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2 For Satan there in arms resides,
And calls the place his own;
With care against assaults provides,
And rules as on a throne.

3 Each traitor thought on him as chief,
In blind obedience waits;

And pride, self-will, and unbelief,
Are posted at the gates.

4 Thus Satan for a season reigns,
And keeps his goods in peace;
The soul is pleas'd to wear his chains,
Nor wishes a release.

5 But Jesus, stronger far than he,
In his appointed hour,

Appears to set his people free

From the usurper's pow'r.

6 "This heart I bought with blood," he says, "And now it shall be mine;"

His voice the strong one arm'd dismays,
He knows he must resign.

7 In spite of unbelief and pride,
And self, and Satan's art,
The gates of brass fly open wide,
And Jesus wins the heart.

8 The rebel soul that once withstood
The Saviour's kindest call,

Rejoices now, by grace subdu'd,
To serve him with her all.

CII. The Worldling. Chap. xii. 16—21.

1 "My barns are full, my stores increase, "And now for many years,

"Soul, eat and drink, and take thine ease, "Secure from wants and fears."

2 Thus while a worldling boasted once,
As many now presume,

He heard the Lord himself pronounce
His sudden, awful doom.

3 "This night, vain fool, thy soul must pass "Into a world unknown:

"And who shall then the stores possess

"Which thou hast call'd thine own."

3 Thus blinded mortals fondly scheme
For happiness below;

Till death disturbs the pleasing dream,
And they awake to wo.

5 Ah! who can speak the vast dismay
That fills the sinner's mind,

When, torn by death's strong hand away, He leaves his all behind.

6 Wretches, who cleave to earthly things,
But are not rich to God;

Their dying hour is full of stings,
And hell their dark abode.

7 Dear Saviour, make us timely wise, Thy Gospel to attend,

That we may live above the skies,

When this poor life shall end.

CIII. The Barren Fig-tree. Chap. xiii. 6-9.

1 THE church a garden is

In which believers stand,

Like ornamental trees

Planted by God's own hand : His Spirit waters all the roots,

And every branch abounds with fruits.

2 But other trees there are

In this enclosure grow,
Which, though they promise fair,
Have only leaves to show:

No fruits of grace are on them found,
They stand but cumb'rers of the ground.

8 The under gard'ner grieves,

In vain his strength he spends,
For heaps of useless leaves

Afford him small amends:

He hears the Lord his will make known,
To cut the barren fig-trees down.

4 How difficult his post,

What pangs his bowels move,

To find his wishes crost,

His labours useless prove!

His last relief, his earnest pray'r,

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Lord, spare them yet another

another year:

5 " Spare them, and let me try
"What further means may do;

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My digging I'll renew:

"Who knows but yet they fruit may yield!

"If not-'tis just, they must be fell'd."

6 If under means of grace
No gracious fruits appear,

It is a dreadful case;

Though God may long forbear,

At length he'll strike the threat'ned blow*, And lay the barren fig-tree low.

CIV. The Prodigal Son. Chap. xv. 11-24.

1 AFFLICTIONS, though they seem severe, In mercy oft are sent;

They stopp'd the prodigal's career,
And forc'd him to repent.

2 Although he no relentings felt,
Till he had spent his store;
His stubborn heart began to melt
When famine pinch'd him sore.

3" What have I 'gain'd by sin," he said,
"But hunger, shame, and fear;

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My father's house abounds with bread,
"While I am starving here.

4" I'll go and tell him all I've done,
"And fall before his face;
"Unworthy to be call'd his son
"I'll seek a servant's place."

5 His father saw him coming back,
He saw, and ran, and smil'd;

And threw his arms around the neck
Of his rebellious child.

6" Father, I've sinn'd-but, Oh forgive!" "I've heard enough," he said;

"Rejoice my house, my son's alive,
"For whom I mourn'd as dead.

* Book II, Hyma 26.

7" Now let the fatted calf be slain,
"And spread the news around;
"My son was dead, but lives again,
"Was lost, but now is found."

8 'Tis thus the Lord his love reveals,
To call poor sinners home;
More than a father's love he feels,
And welcomes all that come.

CV. The Rich Man and Lazarus. Ch. xvi. 19-25.

1 A WORLDLING spent each day

In luxury and state;
While a believer lay,

A beggar at his gate :

Think not the Lord's appointment strange; Death made a great and lasting change.

2 Death brought the saint release From want, disease, and scorn; And to the land of peace,

His soul by angels borne,

In Abr'ham's bosom safely plac'd,
Enjoys an everlasting feast.

3 The rich man also dy'd,
And in a moment fell
From all his pomp and pride
Into the flames of hell:

The beggar's bliss from far beheld,
His soul with double anguish fill'd.

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4 "O Abr'ham send," he cries,

(But his request was vain,) "The beggar from the skies "To mitigate my pain!

"One drop of water I entreat,

"To sooth my tongue's tormenting heat."

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