Shut up in unbelief release, And bid them go in perfect peace Thy confessors to heaven. Hymns on the Trinity, 1767. JEREMIAH 7, 4. The Temple of the Lord are these. THE men who slight Thy faithful Word, The only Church and true, Who live in pomp, and wealth, and ease, And Jesus never knew! The Temple of the Lord they pull Thy living temples down, And cast out every gracious soul That trembles at Thy frown. they from their pale expel Whom Thou hast here forgiven; And all the synagogue of hell Are the sole heirs of heaven! O wouldst thou, Lord, reveal their sins, The world, the Christian world, convince Of damning unbelief! The formalists confound, convert, And to Thy people join ; And break, and fill the broken heart With confidence divine! Scripture Hymns, 1762. FOR THE UNIVERSITIES. TEACHER divine, with melting eye As heretics and Lollards still Thy faithful confessors they brand; With all their strength and knowing skill Thy Spirit and His work withstand, In league with hell Thy throne to o'erthrow, And raise the kingdom of Thy foe. Where knowledge vain, unsanctified And wage with Heaven immortal war: The prophets' nursing-schools are these, True prophets once they surely bred, But wilt Thou let the fountains fail, Thy Word from age to age endure, Hymns of Intercession, 1758. ON PERFECTION. (From the Scripture Hymns, 1762.) 2 Chronicles 6, 36. There is no man which sinneth not. No every fallen child of man : Must sin in thought, and word, and deed : But bursting our oppressor's chain When Jesus hath His prisoners freed, The dire necessity is o'er, And born of God, we sin no more. 2 Corinthians 13, 11. Be perfect. (i. e., Aspire to the highest degree of holiness.-Mr. John PRESS to the mark (the Spirit cries, Perfection is attained the last. John 5, 31. If I bear witness of myself, my witness is not true. AND shall mere man of men demand We ought not to his word alone Or confident assertions trust; Philippians 3, 12. Not as though I were already perfect. "THEN know thy place (a novice cries, It is Philippians 3, 13. I count not myself to have apprehended. No not after twenty years And sufferings for his Lord, Daily still the Apostle dies, And lives imperfect still! "But we now, the prize to attain, An easier method see, Save ourselves the toil and pain And lingering agony; |