A thousand specious arts essayed,
Called the deep Mystic to my aid:
His boasted skill the brute refined,
But left the subtler fiend behind.

Frail, dark, impure, I still remain,
Nor hope to break my nature's chain.
The fond self-emptying scheme is past,
And lo! constrained, I yield at last.

At last I own it cannot be

That I should fit myself for Thee:
Here, then, to Thee I all resign;
Thine is the work, and only Thine.

No more to lift my eyes I dare,
Abandoned to a just despair;
I have my punishment in view,
I feel a thousand hells my due.

What shall I say Thy grace to move?
Lord, I am sin - but Thou art Love:
I give up every plea beside,

Lord, I am damned

- but Thou hast died!

While groaning at Thy feet I fall,
Spurn me away, refuse my call,
If Love permit, contract Thy brow,
And, if Thou canst, destroy me now!

FREE GRACE.

AND can it be that I should gain

An interest in the Saviour's Blood? Died He for me, who caused His pain? For me, who Him to death pursued? Amazing Love! how can it be,

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

'Tis mystery all: the Immortal dies! Who can explore His strange design? In vain the first-born seraph tries

To sound the depths of Love divine. 'Tis mercy all! let earth adore; Let angel-minds inquire no more.

He left His Father's throne above,
(So free, so infinite His grace!)
Emptied Himself of all but Love,
And bled for Adam's helpless race:
'Tis mercy all, immense and free,
For, O my God, it found out me!

Long my imprisoned spirit lay,

Fast bound in sin and nature's night: Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray;

I woke; the dungeon flamed with light; My chains fell off, my heart was free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

Still the small inward voice I hear

That whispers all my sins forgiven; Still the atoning Blood is near,

That quenched the wrath of hostile Heaven. I feel the life His wounds impart,

I feel

my Saviour in my heart.

No condemnation now I dread,
Jesus, and all in Him, is mine:
Alive in Him, my living Head,

And clothed in righteousness divine,

Bold I approach the eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ, my own.

1739.

CHRIST THE FRIEND OF SINNERS.

WHERE shall my wondering soul begin?
How shall I all to heaven aspire?
A slave redeemed from death and sin,
A brand plucked from eternal fire,
How shall I equal triumphs raise,
And sing my great Deliverer's praise?

O how shall I the goodness tell,

Father, which Thou to me hast showed?

That I, a child of wrath and hell,

I should be called a child of God,

Should know, should feel my sins forgiven, Blest with this antepast of heaven!

And shall I slight my Father's Love,
Or basely fear His gifts to own?
Unmindful of His favors prove?

Shall I, the hallowed cross to shun,
Refuse His righteousness to impart,
By hiding it within my heart?

No: though the ancient dragon rage,
And call forth all his hosts to war,
Though earth's self-righteous sons engage,
Them and their god alike I dare:
Jesus, the sinner's Friend, proclaim;
Jesus, to sinners still the same.

Outcasts of men, to you I call,

Harlots, and publicans, and thieves;
He spreads His arms to embrace you all;
Sinners alone His grace receives:

No need of Him the righteous have;
He came the lost to seek and save.

Come all ye Magdalens in lust,

Ye ruffians fell in murders old; Repent, and live: despair and trust! Jesus for you to death was sold. Though hell protest, and earth repine, He died for crimes like yours and mine.

Come, O my guilty brethren, come,
Groaning beneath your load of sin;
His bleeding heart shall make you room,
His open side shall take you in.

He calls you now, invites you home
Come, O my guilty brethren, come.

For you the purple current flowed

In pardons from His wounded side; Languished for you the eternal God; For you the Prince of Glory died. Believe, and all your guilt 's forgiven; Only believe and yours is heaven!

1739.

FOR THE ANNIVERSARY DAY OF ONE'S CONVERSION.

GLORY to God, and praise and love,
Be ever, ever given;

By saints below and saints above,
The Church in earth and heaven.

On this glad day the glorious Sun
Of Righteousness arose,
On my benighted soul He shone,
And filled it with repose.