CONVERSE with CHRIST.

I

'M tir'd with vifits, modes, and forms, And flatteries paid to fellow-worms;

Their converfation cloys;

Their vain amours, and empty stuff:

But I can ne'er enjoy enough

Of thy best company, my Lord, thou life of all my joys.

When he begins to tell his love,

Through every vein my paffions move,
The captives of his tongue:

In midnight fhades, on frofty ground,

I could attend the pleasing found,

[long.

Nor fhould I feel December cold, nor think the darkness

There, while I hear my Saviour-God

Count o'er the fins (a heavy load)

He bore upon the tree,

Inward I blush with fecret fhame,

And weep, and love, and bl.fs the name [for me.

That knew not guilt nor grief his own, but bare it all Next he defcribes the thorns he wore,

And talks his bloody paffion o'er,

Till I am drown'd in tears:

Yet with the fmypathetic finart

There's a ftrange joy heats round my heart;

The curfed tree has bleffings in 't, my sweetest balm it

bears.

I hear the glorious fufferer tell,
How on his crofs he vanquifh'd hell,

And all the powers beneath :

Tranfported and infpir'd, my tongue

Attempts his triumphs in a fong;

[death!"

"How has the ferpent loft his fting! and where 's thy victory,

But when he fhews his hands and heart,

With thofe dear prints of dying fmart,

He fets my foul on fire :

Not the beloved John could reft

With more delight upon

Nor Thomas pry into thofe wounds with more intense

Kindly he opens me his ear,

And bids me pour my forrow there,

And tell him all my pains :

Thus while I eafe my burden'd heart,

In every woe he bears a part,

[fuftains.

His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head

Fly from my thoughts, all human things,

And fporting fwains, and fighting kings,

And tales of wanton love:

My foul difdains that little fnare

The tangles of Amira's hair;

[remove.

Thine arms, my God, are fweeter bands, nor can my heart

GRACE fhining, and NATURE fainting.
Sol. Song i. 3. & ii. 5. & vi. 5.

LL me, faireft of thy kind,

TLL

Tell me Shepherd, all divine,
Where this fainting head reclin'd
May relieve fuch cares as mine:
Shepherd, lead me to thy grove;
If burning noon infect the fky,
The fickening fheep to covert fly,
The sheep not half so faint as I,

Thus overcome with love.

Say, thou dear Sovereign of my breaft,
Where doft thou lead thy flock to rest:
Why should I appear like one
Wild and wandering all alone,
Unbeloved and unknown?
O my Great Redeemer, fay,
Shall I turn my feet aftray!
Will Jefus bear to fee me rove,
To fee me feek another love?

Ne'er had I known his dearest name,

Ne'er had I felt this inward flame,

Had not his heart-strings first began the tender found.

Nor can I bear the thought, that He

Should leave the sky,

Should bleed and die,

Should love a wretch fo vile as me

Without returns of paffion for his dying wound.

3

His

His eyes are glory mix'd with grace;
In his delightful awful face
Sits majefty and gentleness.
So tender is my bleeding heart

That with a frown he kills;
His abfence in perpetual smart
Nor is my foul refin'd enough
To bear the beaming of his love,

And feel his warmer fmiles.

Where fhall I reft this drooping head?

I love, I love the fun, and yet I want the shade.
My finking fpirits feebly strive

T'endure the extafy;

Beneath these rays I cannot live,

And yet without them die.

None knows the pleasure and the pain

That all my inward powers fuftain

But fuch as feel a Saviour's love, and love the God again.

Oh, why should beauty heavenly bright

Stoop to charm a mortal's fight,

And torture with the fweet excefs of light?
Our hearts, alas! how frail their make!
With their own weight of joy they break,
Oh, why is love fo ftrong, and nature's felf fo weak?

Turn, turn away thine eyes,

Afcend the azure hills, and fhine

Amongst the happy tenants of the skies,

They can fuftain a vision fo divine.

L 2.

O turn thy lovely glories from me,

The joys are too intenfe, the glories overcome me.

Dear Lord, forgive my rafh complaint,

And love me ftill

Against my froward will;

Unvail thy beauties, though I faint.
Send the great herald from the sky,
And at the trumpet's awful roar
This feeble state of things fhall fly,
And pain and pleasure mix no more:
Then fhall I gaze with ftrengthned fight
On glories infinitely bright,

My heart fhall all be love, my Jesus all delight.

Love to CHRIST prefent or abfent.

F all the joys we mortals know,

OF

Jefus, thy love exceeds the reft;
Love, the best bleffing here below,
And nearest image of the bleft.

Sweet are my thoughts, and soft my cares,
When the celeftial flame I feel;

In all my hopes, and all my fears,
There's fomething kind and pleasing still.
While I am held in his embrace,
There's not a thought attempts to rove;
Each finile he wears upon his face
Fixes, and charms, and fires my love.