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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,
The crimes that blot my confcience o'er
My forrows, like a flood,
Pour out a long complaint.
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 loudeft cries!
He offers all his grace,
And all his heaven to mc; Offers! but 'tis to fenfelefs 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 ftupid fool,
How long have I withstood
The bleflings purchas'd with his foul,
And paid for all in blood!
The heavenly Dove came down
Lord, I'm afham'd to fay
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 fins like arrows rife,
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,
And weep, and love, and die.
"Rife, fays the Prince of Mercy, rise,
Young Men and Maidens, Old Men and Babes, praise ye the LORD, Pfal. cxlviii. 12.
ONS 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;
His favour is your life, his arm is your fupport,
Virgins, who roll your artful eyes,
That heavenly bridegroom claims your blooming hours:
O make it your perpetual care
To please that Everlasting Fair;
His beauties are the fun, and but the fhade is yours.
Infants, whose different deftinies
Are wove with threads of different size ;
But from the fame fpring-tide of tears,
(A tedious train!) and date your following years: Break your first filence in his praise
Who wrought your wondrous frame:
Ye heads of venerable age,
As long as e'er the glass 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,
WEET flocks, whose soft enamel'd wing
Whose charming notes address the spring
With an artless harmony.
Lovely minstrels of the field,
Who in leafy fhadows fit,
And your wondrous ftructures build,
Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light: