Now I can fix my thoughts above, So Gabriel, at his King's command, From yon Walks downward to our worthlefs land, He glides along my mortal things, Fulfils his task, and spreads his wings To reach the realms above. MEDITATION in a GROVE. SWEE WEET Mufe, defcend and bless the fhade, Bufinefs, and noife, and day, are fled, And every care, but love. But hence, ye wanton young and fair, Jefus has all my powers poffeft, Shall fill command my voice. Scr Some of the faireft choirs above Shall flock around my fong, With joy to hear the name they love His charms fhall make my numbers flow, While filence fits on every bough, I'll carve our paffion on the bark, Shall drop and bear fome myftic mark That Jefus dy'd for me. The fwains fhall wonder when they read, That heaven itself came down, and bled The Faireft and the Only Beloved. HONOUR to that diviner ray That first allur'd my eyes away From every mortal fair; All the gay things that held my fight Whatever speaks the godhead great, And fit to be ador'd, Whatever makes the creature sweet, And bloom upon his face; Shoot through my heart with dear surprize, All nature's art fhall never cure Hold a long empire of the heart; In vain the envious fhades of night, Would veil his image from my fight, Or tempt my foul away; Jefus is all my waking theme, And knows not to depart : The paffion reigns Through all my veins, And, floating round the crimson ftream, Still finds him at my heart. Dwell there, for ever dwell, my love; Here I confine my sense; Nor dare my wildest wishes'rove And lofe their nature in th' embrace. Thou art my ocean, thou my God; Who could ever bear to be Among the stars, but far from Thee? Mutual Mutual LovE ftronger than DEATH. WOT the rich world of minds above NOT Can pay the mighty debt of love I owe to Chrift my God: With pangs which none but he could feel Kindly he feiz'd me in his arms, From the falfe world's pernicious charms With force divinely fweet. At his demand, With chearful hand, I'd pay the vital treasure down In hourly tributes at his feet. But, Saviour, let me tate thy grace With every fleeting breath? And through that heaven of pleasure pafs To the cold arms of death; Then I could lofe fucceffive fouls Faft as the minutes fly; So billow after billow rolls To kifs the fhore, and die. The |