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Hence from my heart, ye idols, flee,
Ye founding names of vanity!
No more my lips shall facrifice

To chance and nature, tales and lies :
Creatures without a God can yield me no supplies.

What is the sun, or what the shade,

Or frosts, or flames, to kill or save ?
His favour is my life, his lips pronounce me dead ;

And as his awful dictates bid,
Earth is my mother, or my grave.

In Imitation of the cxiyth Pfalm.
WHEN the Eternal bows the skies,

To visit earthly things, With scorn divine he turns his eyes

From towers of haughty kings;
Rides on a cloud disdainful by

A Sultan, or a Czar,
Laughs at the worms that rise so high,

Or frowns them from afar ;

He bids his awful chariot roll

Far downward from the skies,
To visit every humble soul,

With pleasure in his eyes.
Why should the Lord that reigns above

Disdain fo lofty kings ?
Say, Lord, and why such looks of love

Upon such worthless things ?


Mortals, Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares

Dispute his awful will ? Alk no account of his affairs,

But tremble, and be ftill.
Just like his nature is his grace,

All sovereign, and all free;
Great God, how searchless are thy ways!

How deep thy judgments be!


OME seraph, lend your heavenly tongue,

Or harp of golden string,
That I may raise a lofty song

To our Eternal King.
Thy names, how infinite they be!

Great Everlasting One !
Boundless thy might and majesty,

And unconfin’d thy throne.
Thy glories shine of wondrous size,

And wondrous large thy grace;
Immortal day breaks from thine eyes,

And Gabriel veils his face. Thine essence is a vast abyss,

Which angels cannot sound, An ocean of infinities

Where all our thoughts are drown'd.


The mysteries of creation lie

Beneath enlighten'd minds, Thoughts can ascend above the sky,

And fly before the winds. Reason may grasp the massy hills,

And stretch from pole to pole, But half thy name our spirit fills,

And overloads our soul.

In vain our haughty reason swells,

For nothing's found in Thee But boundless unconceivables,

And yaft eternity.


ALAS, my aking heart!

Here the keen torment lies;
It racks my waking hours with smart,

And frights my flumbering eyes.

Guilt will be hid no more,

My griefs take vent apace,
The crimes that blot my conscience o'er
Flush crimson in



My sorrows, like a flood,

Impatient of restraint,
Into thy bosom, O my God,

Pour out a long complaint.


This impious heart of mine

Could once defy the Lord,
Could rush with violence on to fin,

In presence of thy sword.
How often have I stood

A rebel to the skies,
The calls, the tenders of a God,

And mercy's loudest cries !
He offers all his grace,

And all his heaven to mc;
Offers ! but 'tis to senseless brass,

That cannot feel nor fee.
Jesus the Saviour flands

To court me from above,
And looks and spreads his wounded hands,

And shews the prints of love.
But I, a stupid fool,

How long have I withstood
The bleflings purchas'd with his soul,

And paid for all in blood !
The heavenly Dove came down

And tender'd me his wings
To mount me upward to a crown,

And bright immortal things.
Lord, I'm alham’d to say

That I refus’d thy Dove,
And fent thy Spirit griev'd away,

To his own realms of love.


Not all thine heavenly charms,

Nor terrors of thy hand,
Could force me to lay down my arms,

And bow to thy command.
Lord, 'tis against thy face

My sins like arrows rise,
And yet, and yet (O matchless grace!)

Thy thunder filent lies.
O fhall I never feel

The meltings of thy love ?
Am I such hell-harden'd steel

That mercy cannot move ?
Now for one powerful glance,

Dear Saviour, from thy face !
This rebel-heart no more withstands,

But finks beneath thy grace.
O'ercome by dying love I fall,

Here at thy cross I lie ;
And throw my felh, my soul, my all,

And weep, and love, and die.
“Rise, says the Prince of Mercy, rise,
" With joy and pity in his eyes :
“Rise, and behold my wounded veins,
“ Here flows the blood to wash thy stains.


Great Father reconcil'd :"
He said. And lo, the Father fmild:
The joyful cherubs clap'd their wings,
And founded grace on all their strings.

6 See


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