XVIII. The Ministry of Angels.

IGH on a Hill of dazzling Light,

H The King of Glory fpreads his Seat,

And Troops of Angels ftretch'd for Flight,
Stand waiting round his awful Feet.

*

2" Go, faith the LORD, my Gabriel, go, "Salute the Virgin's fruitful Womb; "Make hafte, † ye Cherubs, down below, "Sing and proclaim the Saviour come.” 3 Here a bright Squadron † leaves the Skies, And thick around Elisha stands ;

Anon a heav'nly Soldier flies,

And breaks the Chains from Peter's || Hands, 4 Thy winged Troops, O God of Hofts, Wait on thy wand'ring Church below; Here we are failing to thy Coats, Let Angels be our Convoy too.

5

Are they not all thy Servants, Lord ?
At thy Command they go and come;
With chearful Hafte obey thy Word,
And guard thy Children to their Home.

• Lukei. 26. † Luke ii. 13. † 2 Kings vi, 17,
|| Acts xii. 7.
Heb. i. 14.

XIX. Our frail Bodies, and GoD our
Preferver.

ET others boaft how strong they bej
Nor Death, nor Danger fear;

But we'll confefs, O LORD, to thee,
What feeble Things we are.

2 Fresh as the Grafs our Bodies ftand,
And flourish bright and gay!

A blafting Wind fweeps o'er the Land,
And fades the Grals away.

3 Our Life contains a thousand Springs,
And dies if one be gone

Strange! that a Harp of thousand Strings
Should keep in Tune so long.

4 But 'tis our God fupports our Frame,
The God that built us first;
Salvation to th' Almighty Name,

That rear'd us from the Duft.

[5 He spoke, and straight our Hearts and Brains, In all their Motions rofe;

"Let Blood, faid he, flow round the Veins," And round the Veins it flows.

6 While we have Breath, or use our Tongues, Our Maker we'll adore;

His Spirit moves our heaving Lungs,
Or they would breathe no more.]

XX. Backflidings and Returns: or, The
Inconftancy of our Love.

WHY

7HY is my Heart so far from thee,
My Goo, my chief Delight?
Why are my Thoughts no more by Day
With thee, no more by Night?

[2 Why fhould my foolish Paffions rove?
Where can fuch Sweetness be
As I have tafted in thy Love,
As I have found in thee?]

3 When my forgetful Soul renews
The Savour of thy Grace, a
My Heart prefumes I cannot lofe
The Relish all my Days.

4 But ere one fleeting Hour is pass'd,
The flatt'ring World employs
Some fenfual Bait to seize my Taste,
And to pollute my Joys,

[5 Trifles of Nature or of Art,
With fair deceitful Charms,
Intrude into my thoughtless Heart,
And thruft me from thy Arms]
6 Then I repent, and vex my Soul
That I fhould leave thee fo;

Where will those wild Affections roll,
That let a Saviour go?

[7 Sin's promis'd Joys are turn'd to Pain, And I am drown'd in Grief;

But my dear LORD returns again,
He flies to my Relief;

8 Seizing my Soul with fweet Surprise,
He draws with loving Bands ;
Divine Compaffion in his Eyes,
And Pardon in his Hands.]

[9 Wretch that I am, to wander thus
In chafe of falfe Delight!
Let me be faften'd to thy Cross,
Rather than lofe thy Sight.

10 Make hafte, my Days, to reach the Goal,
And bring my Heart to rest
On the dear Center of my Soul,
My GoD, my Saviour's Breaft.]

XXI. A Song of Praife to GOD the Redeemer.

1 ET the old Heathens tune their Song
Of great Diana, and of Jove ;

But the sweet Theme that moves my Tongue,
Is my
Redeemer and his Love.

2 Behold a GOD defcends and dies,

To fave my Soul from gaping Hell!
How the black Gulph where Satan lies,
Yawn'd to receive me when I fell!

3 How Juftice frown'd, and Veng'ance stood,
To drive me down to endless Pain !
But the Great Son propos'd his Blood,
And heav'nly Wrath grew mild again.

4 Infinite Lover, gracious LORD!

To thee be endless Honours giv'n;
Thy wondrous Name fhall be ador'd,
Round the wide Earth, and wider Heav'n.

XXII. With GOD is terrible Majefty.

TE

1

Errible Gop, that reign'ft on high, How awful is thy thund'ring Hand! Thy fiery Bolts how fierce they fly! Nor can all Earth or Hell withstand. 2 This the old Rebel-Angels knew, And Satan fell beneath thy Frown: Thine Arrows ftruck the Traitor through, And weighty Veng'ance funk him down. 3 This Sodom felt, and feels it ftill, And roars beneath th' eternal Load; "With endless Burnings who can dwell, "Or bear the Fury of a Gop!"

4 Tremble, ye Sinners, and fubmit

10

Throw down your Arms before his Throne;
Bend your Heads low beneath his Feet,
Or his ftrong Hand fhall crufh you down.

5 And ye, blefs'd Saints, that love him too,
With Reverence bow before his Name;
Thus all his heav'nly Servants do:
GOD is a bright and burning Flame.

"A