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O that the day, the joyful day were come, When the first Adam from his ancient dust Crown'd with new honours shall revive, and see Jesus his Son and Lord; while shouting saints Surround their King, and God's Eternal Son Shines in the midst, but with superior beams, And like himself: then the Mysterious Word Long hid behind the letter shall appear All spirit and life, and in the fullest light Stand forth to public view; and there disclose His Father's sacred works and wondrous ways: Then wisdom, righteousness, and grace divine, Through all the infinite transactions past Inwrought and shining, shall with double blaze Strike our astonish'd eyes, and ever reign Admir'd and glorious in triumphant light.
Death, and the tempter, and the man of sin, Now at the bar arraign'd, in judgment cast, Shall vex the saints no more: but perfect love And loudest praises perfect joy create, While ever-circling years maintain the blissful state.
LOVE ON A CROSS, AND A THRONE. Now let my faith grow strong, and rise, And view my Lord in all his love; Look back to hear his dying cries, Then mount and see his throne above. See where he languish'd on the cross Beneath my sins he groan'd and died; See where he sits to plead my cause By his Almighty Father's side. If I behold his bleeding heart, There love in floods of sorrow reigns; He triumphs o'er the killing smart, And buys my pleasure with his pains. Or if I climb th' eternal hills Where the dear Conqueror sits enthron'd, Still in his heart compassion dwells, Near the memorials of his wound.
How shall a pardon'd rebel show
How much I love my dying God?
Lord, here I banish every foe,
I hate the sins that cost thy blood.
I hold no more commerce with Hell, My dearest lusts shall all depart; But let thine image ever dwell Stampt as a seal upon my heart.
A PREPARATORY THOUGHT FOR THE LORD'S SUPPER.
IN IMITATION OF ISAIAH LXIII. 1, 2, 3,
WHAT heavenly Man, or lovely God,
Comes marching downward from the skies,
Array'd in garments roll'd in blood,
With joy and pity in his eyes?
The Lord! the Saviour! yes, 'tis he;
I know him by the smiles he wears;
Dear glorious Man that died for me,
Drench'd deep in agonies and tears!
Lo, he reveals his shining breast;
I own those wounds, and I adore :
Lo, he prepares a royal feast,
Sweet fruit of the sharp pangs he bore!
Whence flow these favours so divine?
Lord! why so lavish of thy blood?
Why for such earthly souls as mine,
This heavenly flesh, this sacred food?
'Twas his own love that made him bleed,
That nail'd him to the cursed tree;
'Twas his own love this table spread
For such unworthy worms as we.
Then let us taste the Saviour's love;
Come, Faith, and feed upon the Lord :
With glad consent our lips shall move,
And sweet Hosannas crown the board.
CONVERSE WITH CHRIST.
I'm tir'd with visits, modes, and forms,
And flatteries paid to fellow-worms;
Their conversation 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
When he begins to tell his love,
Through every vein my passions move,
The captives of his tongue:
In midnight shades, on frosty ground, I could attend the pleasing sound, [ness long. Nor should I feel December cold, nor think the dark
There, while I hear my Saviour-God Count o'er the sins (a heavy load) He bore upon the tree,
Inward I blush with secret shame,
And weep, and love, and bless the name [for me. That knew not guilt nor grief his own, but bare it all
Next he describes the thorns he wore,
And talks his bloody passion o'er,
Till I am drown'd in tears:
Yet with the sympathetic smart
There's a strange joy beats round my heart; [bears.
The cursed tree has blessings in't, my sweetest balm it
I hear the glorious sufferer tell, How on his cross he vanquish'd Hell, And all the powers beneath : Transported and inspir'd, my tongue Attempts his triumphs in a song; "How has the Serpent lost his sting, and where's thy victory, Death!"
But when he shows his hands and heart,
With those dear prints of dying smart,
He sets my soul on fire:
Not the beloved John could rest
With more delight upon that breast, [desire.
Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with more intense
Kindly he opens me his ear,
And bids me pour my sorrow there,
And tell him all my pains:
Thus while I ease my burthen'd heart,
In every woe he bears a part,
His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head
Say, thou dear Sovereign of my breast,
Where dost thou lead thy flock to rest?
Why should I appear like one
Wild and wandering all alone,
Unbeloved and unknown?
O my Great Redeemer, say,
Shall I turn my feet astray?
Will Jesus bear to see me rove,
To see me seek another love?
His eyes are glory mixt with grace;
In his delightful awful face Sits majesty and gentleness. So tender is my bleeding heart
That with a frown he kills;
His absence is perpetual smart;
Nor is my soul refin'd enough
To bear the beaming of his love,
And feel his warmer smiles.
Where shall I rest this drooping head?
I love, I love the sun, and yet I want the shade.
My sinking spirits feebly strive
T endure the ecstasy;
Beneath these rays I cannot live,
Ne'er had I known his dearest name,
He speaks, and straight immortal joys
Run through my ears, and reach my heart;
My soul all melts at that dear voice,
Ne'er had I felt this inward flame,
Had not his heart-strings first begun the tender sound: And pleasure shoots through every part.
Nor can I bear the thought, that he
Should leave the sky,
Should bleed and die,
Should love a wretch so vile as me
Without returns of passion for his dying wound.
Oh, why should Beauty heavenly bright
Stoop to charm a mortal's sight,
And torture with the sweet excess of light?
And yet without them die.
None know the pleasure and the pain
That all my inward powers sustain
But such as feel a Saviour's love, and love the God
Turn, turn away thine eyes,
Ascend the azure hills, and shine
Among the happy tenants of the skies,
They can sustain a vision so divine.
O turn thy lovely glories from me,
The joys are too intense, the glories overcome me.
LOVE TO CHRIST, PRESENT OR ABSENT.
Of all the joys we mortals know,
Jesus, thy love exceeds the rest;
Love the best blessing here below,
And nearest image of the blest.
Sweet are my thoughts, and soft my cares,
When the celestial flame I feel;
In all my hopes, and all my fears,
There's something kind and pleasing still.
While I am held in his embrace,
There's not a thought attempts to rove;
Each smile he wears upon his face
Fixes, and charms, and fires my love.
Our hearts, alas! how frail their make!
With their own weight of joy they break,
Oh, why is Love so strong, and Nature's self so weak?
If he withdraw a moment's space,
He leaves a sacred pledge behind;
Here in this breast his image stays,
The grief and comfort of my mind.
While of his absence I complain,
And long and weep as lovers do,
There's a strange pleasure in the pain,
And tears have their own sweetness too,
When round his courts by day I rove,
Or ask the watchmen of the night
For some kind tidings of my love,
His very name creates delight.
Jesus, my God; yet rather come;
Mine eyes would dwell upon thy face;
'Tis best to see my Lord at home,
And feel the presence of his grace.
THE ABSENCE OF CHRIST.
COME, lead me to some lofty shade
Where turtles moan their loves;
Tall shadows were for lovers made,
And grief becomes the groves.
"Tis no mean beauty of the ground
That has enslav'd mine eyes;
I faint beneath a nobler wound,
Nor love below the skies.
Jesus, the spring of all that's bright,
The everlasting Fair,
Heaven's ornament, and Heaven's delight,
Is my eternal care.
Dear Sovereign, hear thy servant pray, Bend the blue Heavens, Eternal King, Downward thy cheerful graces bring; Or shall I breathe in vain and pant my hours away? Break, glorious Brightness, through the gloomy veil, Look how the armies of despair Aloft their sooty banners rear Round my poor captive soul, and dare Pronounce me prisoner of Hell.
But thou my Sun, and thou my Shield, Wilt save me in the bloody field; Break, glorious Brightness, shoot one glimmering ray, One glance of thine creates a day, And drives the troops of Hell away.
Happy the times; but ah! the times are gone
When wondrous power and radiant grace
Round the tall arches of the temple shone,
And mingled their victorious rays:
Sin, with all its ghastly train,
Fled to the deeps of Death again,
And smiling triumph sat on every face:
Our spirits raptur'd with the sight
Were all devotion, all delight,
And loud Hosannas sounded the Redeemer's praise. Here could I say,
(And point the place whereon I stood)
Here I enjoy'd a visit half the day
From my descending God:
I was regal'd with heavenly fare,
With fruit and manna from above;
Divinely sweet the blessings were
While mine Emanuel was there :
And o'er the head
The conqueror spread
The banner of his love.
Then why my heart sunk down so low? Why do my eyes dissolve and flow,
And hopeless nature mourn? Review, my soul, those pleasing days, Read his unalterable grace Through the displeasure of his face, And wait a kind return.
A Father's love may raise a frown
To chide the child, or prove the Son,
But love will ne'er destroy;
The hour of darkness is but short,
Faith be thy life, and patience thy support,
The morning brings the joy.
COME, LORD JESUS. WHEN Shall thy lovely face be seen? When shall our eyes behold our God' What lengths of distance lie between! And hills of guilt, a heavy load! Our months are ages of delay, And slowly every minute wears: Fly, winged Time, and roll away These tedious rounds of sluggish years.
Ye heavenly gates, loose all your chains,
Let the eternal pillars bow;
Blest Saviour, cleave the starry plains,
And make the crystal mountains flow.
Hark, how thy saints unite their cries,
And pray and wait the general doom;
Come, Thou, the Soul of all our joys,
Thou, the Desire of Nations, come!
Put thy bright robes of triumph on,
And bless our eyes, and bless our ears,
Thou absent Love, thou dear Unknown,
Thou Fairest of ten thousand Fairs!
Our heart-strings groan with deep complaint; Our flesh lies panting, Lord, for thee,
And every limb, and every joint, Stretches for immortality.
Our spirits shake their eager wings,
And burn to meet thy flying throne;
We rise away from mortal things
T'attend thy shining chariot down.
Now let our cheerful eyes survey
The blazing earth and melting hills,
And smile to see the lightnings play
And flash along before thy wheels.
O for a shout of violent joys
To join the trumpet's thundering sound!
The angel herald shakes the skies,
Awakes the graves, and tears the ground.
Ye slumbering saints, a heavenly host
Stands waiting at your gaping tombs;
Let every sacred sleeping dust
Leap into life, for Jesus comes.
Jesus, the God of might and love,
New-moulds our limbs of cumbrous clay;
Quick as seraphic flames we move,
Active, and young, and fair as they.
Our airy feet with unknown flight,
Swift as the motions of desire,
Run up the hills of heavenly light,
And leave the weltering world in fire.
BEWAILING MY OWN INCONSTANCY.
I LOVE the Lord; but ah! how far
My thoughts from the dear object are!
This wanton heart how wide it roves!
And fancy meets a thousand loves.
If my soul burn to see my God,
I tread the courts of his abode;
But troops of rivals throng the place,
And tempt me off before his face.
Would I enjoy my Lord alone,
I bid my passions all be gone,
All but my love; and charge my will
To bar the door and guard it still.
But cares, or trifles, make, or find,
Still new avenues to the mind,
Till I with grief and wonder see
Huge crowds betwixt the Lord and me.
Oft I am told the Muse will prove
A friend to piety and love;
Straight I begin some sacred song,
And take my Saviour on my tongue.
Strangely I lose his lovely face,
To hold the empty sounds in chase;
At best the chimes divide my heart,
And the Muse shares the larger part.
False confident! and falser breast!
Fickle, and fond of every guest:
Each airy image as it flies
Here finds admittance through my eyes.
This foolish heart can leave her God,
And shadows tempt her thoughts abroad:
How shall I fix this wandering mind,
Or throw my fetters on the wind?
Look gently down, Almighty Grace,
Prison me round in thine embrace;
Pity the soul that would be thine,
And let thy power my love confine.
Say, when shall the bright moment be
That I shall live alone for thee,
My heart no foreign lords adore,
And the wild Muse prove false no more?
FORSAKEN, YET HOPING.
HAPPY the hours, the golden days,
When I could call my Jesus mine,
And sit and view his smiling face,
And melt in pleasures all-divine.
Near to my heart, within my arms
He lay, till sin defil'd my breast,
Till broken vows, and earthly charms,
Tir'd and provok'd my heavenly guest,
And now he's gone, (O mighty woe!) Gone from my soul, and hides his love! Curse on you, sins, that griev'd him so, Ye sins, that forc'd him to remove!
Break, break, my heart; complain, my tongue :
Hither, my friends, your sorrows bring:
Angels, assist my doleful song,
If you have e'er a mourning string.
But, ah! your joys are ever high,
Ever his lovely face you see;
While my poor spirits pant and die,
And groan, for thee, my God, for thee.
Yet let my hope look through my tears,
And spy afar his rolling throne;
His chariot through the cleaving spheres
Shall bring the bright Beloved down.
Swift as a roe flies o'er the hills,
My soul springs out to meet him high;
Then the fair Conqueror turns his wheels,
And climbs the mansions of the sky.
There smiling joy for ever reigns,
No more the turtle leaves the dove;
Farewell to jealousies, and pains,
And all the ills of absent love!
GOD EXALTED ABOVE ALL PRAISE.
ETERNAL Power! whose high abode
Becomes the grandeur of a God;
Infinite length beyond the bounds
Where stars revolve their little rounds:
The lowest step above thy seat
Rises too high for Gabriel's feet;
In vain the tall archangel tries
To reach thine height with wondering eyes.
Thy dazzling beauties whilst he sings,
He hides his face behind his wings;
And ranks of shining thrones around
Fall worshipping, and spread the ground.
Lord, what shall earth and ashes do!
We would adore our Maker too;
From sin and dust to thee we cry,
The Great, the Holy, and the High!
Earth from afar has heard the fame,
And worms have learnt to lisp thy name;
But O, the glories of thy mind
Leave all our soaring thoughts behind.
God is in Heaven, and men below;
Be short, our tunes; our words, be few;
A sacred reverence checks our songs,
And praise sits silent on our tongues.
Tibi silet laus, O Deus. Psal. lxv. 1.