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Without bis aid I have no sure defence,
From troops of errors that besiege me round;
But he that rests his reason and his sense,

Fast here, and never wanders hence,
Immoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground.

Infinite Truth! the life of my desires,
Come from the sky,'and join thyself to me;
I'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires;

But never tir'd of telling thee,
'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see.

Speak to my soul, alone, no other hand
Shall mark my path out with delusive art:
All nature silent in his presence stand,

Creatures be dumb at his command,
And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart.

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire,
Away from sense and every outward show :
Nor let my thoughts to loftier themes aspire,

My knowledge now on wheels of fire
May mount and spread above, surveying all below.

The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light,
And pours whole floods on such a mind as this :
Fled from the eyes she gains a piercing sight,

She dives into the infinite,
And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss.


PRONOUNCE him bless'd, my Muse, whom Wisdom

guides In her own path to her own heavenly seat; Through all the storms his soul securely glides,

Nor can the tempests, nor the tides, That rise and roar around, supplant his steady feet.

Earth, you may let your golden arrows fly,
And seek, in vain, a passage to his breast,
Spread all your painted toys to court his eye,

He smiles, and sees them vainly try
To lure his soul aside from her eternal rest.

Our head-strong lusts, like a young fiery horse,
Start, and flee raging in a violent course;
He tames and breaks them, manages and rides them,

Checks their career, and turns and guides them, And bids his reason bridle their licentious force.

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts,
And boldly acts what calmly he design’d,
Whilst he looks down and pities human faults ;

Nor can he think, nor can he find
A plague like reigning passions, and a subject mind.

But oh! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height,
To vanquish self is a laborious art;
What manly courage to sustain the fight,

To bear the noble pain, and part [heart! With those dear charming tempters rooted in the

'Tis hard to stand when all the passions move,
Hard to awake the eye that passion blinds,
To rend and tear out this unhappy love,

That clings so close about our minds, [finds.
And where the enchanted soul so sweet a poison.
Hard; but it may be done. Come, heavenly fire,
Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray
Melt off my lusts, my fetters: I can bear

A while to be a tenant here,
But not be chain'd and prison'd in a cage of clay.

Heaven is my home, and I must use my wings;
Sublime above the globe my flight aspires :
I have a soul was made to pity kings,

And all their little glittering things ;
I have a soul was made for infinite desires.

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Loos'd from the earth, my heart is upward flown: Farewell, my friends, and all that once was mine ; Nor, should you fix my feet on Cæsar's throne,

Crown me, and call the world my own, The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my soul


I am the Lord's, and Jesus is my love;
He, the dear God, shall fill my vast desire,
My flesh below; yet I can dwell above,

And nearer to my Saviour move; [spire.
There all my soul shall centre, all my powers con-
Thus I with angels live; thus half divine
I sit on high, nor mind inferior joys:
Fill'd with his love, I feel that God is mine,

His glory is my great design,
That everlasting project all my thought employs.




ETERNAL Wisdom, thee we praise,

Thee the creation sings; With thy loud name, rocks, hills, and seas,

And Heaven's high palace rings.

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Place me on the bright wings of day,

To travel with the sun ;
With what amaze shall I survey

The wonders thou hast done?

Thy hand how wide it spread the sky,

How glorious to behold!
Ting’d with a blue of heavenly dye,

And starr'd with sparkling gold.

There thou hast bid the globes of light

Their endless circles run;
There the pale planet rules the night,

And day obeys the sun.


DowNWARD I turn my wond'ring eyes

On clouds and storms below, Those under regions of the skies

Thy numerous glories show.

The noisy winds stand ready there

'Thy orders to obey, With sounding wings they sweep the air,

To make thy chariot way. There, like a trumpet, loud and strong,

Thy thunder shakes ou coast : While the red lightniy g's wave along,

The banners of thine host.

On the thin air, without a prop,

Hang fruitful showers around:
At thy command they sink, and drop

Their fatness on the ground.


Now to the earth I bend my song,

And cast my eyes abroad, Glancing the British isles alongi

Bless'd isles confess your God.

How did his wondrous skill array

Your fields in charming green; A thousand herbs his art display,

A thousand flowers between!


Tall oaks for future navies grow,

Fair Albion's best defence,
While corn and vines rejoice below,

Those luxuries of sense.

The bleating flocks his pasture feeds :

And herds of larger size, l'hat bellow through the Lindian meads,

His bounteous hand supplies.


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