GOD GLORIOUS, AND SINNERS SAVED.
FATHER, how wide thy glory fhines!
How high thy wonders rife !
Known through the earth by thousand figns,
By thousand through the skies.
Thofe mighty orbs proclaim thy power,
Their motions fpeak thy skill;
And on the wings of every hour,
We read thy patience still.
Part of thy name divinely ftands
On all thy creatures writ,
They fhew the labour of thine hands,
Or imprefs of thy feet.
But when we view thy ftrange defign
To fave rebellious worms,
Where vengeance and compaffion join
In their divineft forms;
Our thoughts are loft in reverend awe :
We love and we adore;
The first arch-angel never faw
So much of God before.
Here the whole Deity is known,
Nor dares a creature guess
Which of the glories brightest fhone,
The juftice or the grace.
When finners broke the father's laws,
The dying fon atones;
Oh, the dear myfteries of his crofs !
The triumph of his groans!
Now the full glories of the Lamb
Adorn the heavenly plains;
Sweet Cherubs learn Immanuel's name,
And try their choiceft ftrains.
O may I bear fome humble part
In that immortal fong!
Wonder and joys shall tune my heart,
And love command my tongue.
A French Sonnet imitated. 1695.
"Grand Dieu, tes Jugemens, &c."
GRACE rules below, and fits enthron'd above,
How few the sparks of wrath! how flow they move,
And drop and die in boundlefs feas of love!
But me, vile wretch! fhould pitying love embrace
Deep in its ocean, hell itself would blazc,
And flash, and burn me through the boundless feas.
Yea, Lord, my guilt to fuch a vastness grown
Seems to confine thy choice to wrath alone,
And calls thy power to vindicate thy throne.
Thine honour bids, “ avenge thine injur'd name,"
Thy flighted loves a dreadful glory claim,
While my moift tears might but incenfe thy flame.
Should heaven grow black, almighty thunder roar,
And vengeance blait me, I could plead no more,
But own thy juftice dying, and adore.
Yet can thofe bolts of death that cleave the flood
To reach a rebel, pierce this facred shroud,
Ting'd in the vital stream of my redeemer's blood.
HENCE from my foul, my fins, depart,
Your fatal friendship now I see;
Long have you dwelt too near my heart,
Herce, to eternal diftance flee.
Ye gave my dying Lord his wound,
Yet I carefs'd your viperous brood,
And in my heart-ftrings lapp'd you round,
You, the vile murderers of my God.
Black heavy thoughts, like mountains, roll
O'er my poor breaft, with boding fears,
And, crushing hard my tortur'd foul,
Wring through my eyes the briny tears.
Forgive my treafons, Prince of Grace!
The bloody Jews were traitors too,
Yet thou haft pray'd for that curs'd race,
"Father, they know not what they do."
Great advocate, look down and fee
A wretch, whofe fmarting forrows bleed;
O plead the fame excufe for me!
For, Lord, I knew not what I did.
Peace, my complaints; let every groan
Be ftill, and filence wait his love;
Compaffions dwell amidft his throne,
And through his inmoft bowels move.
Lo, from the everlasting fkies,
Gently, as morning-dews diftil,
The dove immortal downward flies,
With peaceful olive in his bill.
How sweet the voice of pardon sounds !
Sweet the relief to deep diftrefs!
I feel the balm that heals my wounds,
And all my powers adore the grace.
A HYMN of PRAISE for three great Salvations.
1. From the Spanish Invafion, 1588.
2. From the Gun-powder Plot, Nov. 5.
3. From Popery and Slavery by K. WILLIAM of Glorious Memory, who landed, Nov. 5, 1688.
NFINITE God, thy counfels ftand
Like mountains of eternal brass,
Pillars to prop our finking land,
Or guardian rocks to break the feas.
From pole to pole thy name is known,
Thee a whole heaven of angels praise;
Our labouring tongues would reach thy throne
With the loud triumphs of thy grace.
Part of thy church, by thy command,
Stands rais'd upon the British ifles;
"There," faid the Lord, " to ages ftand,
"Firm as the everlasting hills."
In vain the Spanish ocean roar'd;
Its billows fwell'd against our shore,
Its billows funk beneath thy word,
With all the floating war they bore.
Come, faid the fons of bloody Rome,
Let us provide new arms from hell:
And down they digg'd through earth's dark womb,
And ranfack'd all the burning cell.
Old Satan lent them fiery ftores,
Infernal coal, and fulphurous flame,
And all that burns, and all that roars,
Outrageous fires of dreadful name.
Beneath the fenate and the throne,
Engines of hellish thunder lay;
There the dark feeds of fire were fown,
To fpring a bright, but difmal day.
Thy Love beheld the black design,
Thy Love that guards our island round;
Strange! how it quench'd the fiery mine,
And cruf'd the tempeft under ground.
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