The mysteries of creation lie Beneath enlighten'd minds, Thoughts can afcend above the sky, And fly before the winds. Reafon may grafp the maffy hills, In vain our haughty reafon fwells, CONFESSION AND PARDON. ALAS, my aking heart! Here the keen torment lies ; It racks my waking hours with smart, Guilt will be hid no more, My griefs take vent apace, The crimes that blot my confcience o'er My forrows, like a flood, Pour out a long complaint. This This impious heart of mine Could once defy the Lord, Could rush with violence on to fin, In prefence of thy fword. How often have I ftood 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 me; Offers! but 'tis to fenfeless brass, That cannot feel nor fee. Jefus the Saviour flands To court me from above, And looks and fpreads his wounded hands, But I, a stupid fool, How long have I withstood The bleffings purchas'd with his foul, And paid for all in blood! The heavenly Dove came down Lord, I'm afham'd to say To his own realms of love. Not 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 fins like arrows rise, And yet, and yet (O matchlefs grace!) O fhall I never feel The meltings of thy love? O'ercome by dying love I fall, And throw my flesh, my foul, my all, "Rife, fays the Prince of Mercy, rife, "See Young Young Men and Maidens, Old Men and Babes, praise ye the LORD, Pfal. cxlviii. 12. SONS of Adam, bold and young, In the wild mazes of whofe veins A flood of fiery vigour reigns, And weilds your active limbs, with hardy finews ftrung; Fall proftrate at th' eternal throne Whence your precarious powers depend; Nor fwell as if your lives were all your own, But choose your Maker for your friend; His favour is your life, his arm is your support, His hand can stretch your days, or cut your minutes fhort. Virgins, who roll your artful eyes, That heavenly bridegroom claims your blooming hours: To please that Everlasting Fair; His beauties are the fun, and but the fhade is yours. Infants, whofe different deftinies Are wove with threads of different fize; But But from the fame spring-tide of tears, (A tedious train !) and date your following years: Who wrought your wondrous frame: Ye heads of venerable age, As long as e'er the glafs of life would run, Through flowery fields a fair long summer's day; Flying Fowl, and Creeping Things, praife ye the LORD, Pfal. cxlviiii. ro, S WEET flocks, whose soft enamel'd wing Whofe charming notes address the spring With an artlefs harmony. Lovely minstrels of the field, Who in leafy fhadows fit, And your wondrous ftructures build, Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light: Το |