LOUD I cry'd-aloud I pray'd,
When in the fishes belly laid,
And hell's deep gloom I saw !
The foaming billows dafh'd around,
But, oh, more awful ftill I found
The terrors of thy law.
The fea-weeds wrapp'd about my head,
The hoary deep thy wrath difplay'd,
And ftill increas'd my fear:
Wave follow'd wave with dreadful noife, And feem'd to drown my feeble voice, But yet my God could hear.
Could hear a guilty wretch complain,
And when I thought my fighs were vain
A kind deliv'rance fend:
Tho' flying from his gracious fight,
I, rebel like, defy'd his might,
He prov'd the finner's friend.
The High and Lofty One look'd down,
The Lord took pity on his own,
And deign'd my life to fave:
His injur'd goodness took my part,
His pity heal'd my broken heart,
His hand unlock'd my grave.
Thanksgiving, love, and humble praise
Shall fill the remnant of my days,
Shall bow my grateful knee:
My gracious Savior, and my God,
I'll praise thee for thy chaft'ning rod,
Which brought me back to thee.
The Perfecuted Chriftian.
The Triumph of Faith.
Chriff's,unchangeable Love.
HO fhall the Lord's elect condemn ?-
'Tis God that juftifies their fouis;
And mercy, like a mighty stream,
O'er all their fins divinely rolls.
Who fhall adjudge the faints to hell?
"Tis Chrift that fuffer'd in their stead ;
And the falvation to fulfil,
Behold him rifing from the dead !
He lives! he lives, and fits above
For ever interceeding there:
Who fhall divide us from his love?
Or what shall tempt us to defpair?
Shall perfecution, or distress,
Famine, or fword, or nakedness ›
He that hath lov'd us bears us thro',
And makes us more than conqu'rors too.
Faith hath an overcoming pow'r,
It triumphs in the dying hour:
Chrift is our life, our joy, our hope;
Nor can we fink with fuch a prop.
Not all that inen on earth can do,
Nor pow'rs on high, nor pow'rs below,
Shall caufe his mercy to remove,
From the dear objects of his love.
HAT tender pity, love and care,
For fuff'ring faints doth Jesus bear;
While they his glorious name confefs,
'Midft perfecution and distress.
Tho' by th' oppreffor's rod they smart,
See the Redeemer still impart
His confolations all divine,
With chearful beams their faces shine.
Thus Stephen the first martyr dies,
To truth a joyful facrifice;
To vindicate the caufe of God,
He feals the gospel with his blood.
Lo! on his countenance appears
Such radiance as an angel wears;
Reflected rays of glory bright,
Meet the spectator's wond'ring fight.
Not death, with all its dread array,
His heav'n-born foul could e'er dismay;
Jefus, the faint expiring cheers,
And to his raptur'd fight appears.
"Behold (he cries) heav'n's gates expand,
Exalted fee at God's right hand,
The Son of man with glory crown'd,
And the bright Seraphim around."
Thus would the view of Jesus' face,
Each fear difarm, each terror chase ;
Thus bleft with joy, we yield our breath
Triumphing o'er the monfter, death.
Q
280. C. M. WATTS'S H.
The Martyrs glorified.
HESE glorious minds, how bright "they shine!
"Whence all their white array ? "How came they to the happy feats "Of everlasting day?":
From tort'ring pains to endless joys
On fiery wheels they rode,
And strangely wash'd their raiment white
In Jesus' dying blood.
Now they approach a spotlefs God,
And bow before his throne;
Their warbling harps and facred fongs
Adore the Holy One.
The unveil'd glories of his face
Amongft his faints refide,
While the rich treafures of his grace
Sees all their wants fupply'd.
Tormenting thirft fhall leave their fouls,
And hunger flee as faft;
The fruit of life's immortal tree.
Shall be their sweet repaft.
The Lamb fhall lead his heav'nly flock,
Where living fountains,rife,
And love divine fhall wipe away
The forrows of their eyes.
The afflicted Believer encouraged.
EEPING faint, no longer mourn :
W surely chrift thy griefs hath borne::
Jefus, beft of friends, for thee,
Number'd with tranfgreffuts, fee!
He the wine-prefs trod alone
Hear the Man of forrows groan!
Mock'd, and bruis'd, and crown'd with thorns He his Father's abfence mourns.
All thy fins, when Jefus bled,
Met on his devoted head:
All thy hope on Jefus place;
Plead his promife, truft his grace..
At his feet thy burden lay;
Chrift fhall smile thy fears away
He thy guilt and forrow bore
Weeping faint, lament no more.
BROUGHT fafely by his hand thus far,
Wilt thou, defponding chriftian, fear? How canft thou want, if God provide, Or lofe thy way, with fuch a guide? When firft, before the mercy-feat, Thou didst to him thy all commit;
He gave thee warrant, from that hour, a To truft his wifdom, love, and pow'r.
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