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 amidst his throne,
And through his inmoft bowels move.
Lo, from the everlasting skies,
Gently, as morning-dews diftil,
The dove immortal downward flies,
With peaceful olive in his bill.
How sweet the voice of pardon founds!
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 isles;
"There," faid the Lord, " to ages stand,
"Firm as the everlasting hills."
In vain the Spanish ocean roar'd;
Its billows fwell'd against our fhore,
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 stores,
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 dismal day.
Thy Love beheld the black design,
Thy Love that guards our ifland round;
Strange! how it quench'd the fiery mine,
And crush'd the tempest under ground.
SSUME, my tongue, a nobler ftrain,
Sing the new wonders of the Lord;
The foes revive their powers again,
Again they die beneath his sword.
Dark as our thoughts our minutes roll,
While tyranny possess'd the throne,
And murderers of an Irish foul
Ran, threatening death, through every town.
The Romish prieft, and British prince,
Join'd their best force, and blackeft charms,
And the fierce troops of neighbouring France
Offer'd the fervice of their arms.
'Tis done, they cry'd, and laugh'd aloud,
The courts of darkness rang with joy,
Th'old Serpent hifs'd, and hell grew proud,
While Zion mourn'd her ruin nigh.
But lo, the great deliverer fails,
Commiffion'd from Jehovah's hand,
And fmiling feas, and wishing gales,
Convey him to the longing land.
The happy day*, and happy year,
Both in our new falvation meet:
The day that quench'd the burning fnare,
year that burnt th' invading fleet.
Now did thine arm, O God of Hofts,
Now did thine arm fhine dazling bright,
The fons of might their hands had loft,
And men of blood forgot to fight.
Brigades of angels lin'd the way,
And guarded William to his throne:
There, ye celeftial warriors, stay,
And make his palace like your own.
Then, mighty God, the earth hall know
And learn the worship of the sky:
Angels and Britons join below,
To raise their Hallelujahs high.
All Hallelujah, heavenly King;
While diftant lands thy victory fing,
And tongues their utmoft powers employ,
The world's bright roof repeats the joy.
AR in the heavens my God retires,
My God, the mark of my defires,
And hides his lovely face;
When he defcends within
He charms my reason to purfue,
But leaves it tir'd and fainting in th' unequal chace,
Or if I reach unusual height
Till near his prefence brought,
There floods of glory check my flight,
Cramp the bold pinions of my wit,
And all untune my thought;
Plung'd in a sea of light I roll,
Where wisdom, juftice, mercy, fhines;
Infinite rays in croffing lines
Beat thick confusion on my fight, and overwhelm my soul.
Come to my aid, ye fellow-minds,
And help me reach the throne; (What fingle ftrength, in vain defigns,
United force hath done;
Thus worms may join, and grafp the poles,
Thus atoms fill the fea)
But the whole race of creature-fouls
Stretch'd to their last extent of thought, plunge and are loft in thee.
Great God, behold my reafon lies
Adoring; yet my love would rife
On pinions not her own :
Faith fhall direct her humble flight,
Through all the tracklefs feas of light,
To Thee, th' Eternal Fair, the Infinite Unknown.
Y thoughts, that often mount the skies,
Go, fearch the world beneath,
Where nature in all ruin lies,
And owns her fovereign, death.
The tyrant, how he triumphs here !
His trophies fpread around!
And heaps of duft and bones appear
Through all the hollow ground.
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