But could not from Myself retire,
Or 'scape the Inner Man.
5. I took the Morning's Wings and fled
For Reft to Worlds unknown;
Sin found me in the fecret Shade,
And claim'd me for Its own.
6. O who shall bid this Self depart,
This World of Sin exclude,
Empty, and make my peaceful Heart
An holy Solitude?
7. 'Tis not the Defart, or the Cell
Can hide me from my Pain,
I carry with me my own Hell,
While Self and Pride remain.
8. Baffled, o'ercome I yield at last,
I yield to Self-despair,
My unavailing Strife is past,
And void returns my Prayer.
9. I cannot pray, I cannot praife,
For Grace I cannot call,
I cannot feel my Want of Grace,
My Soul is ftript of all.
10. A vile, unworthy Worm, my Eyes. I dare not lift to Heaven,
Let Him, who fees me from the Skies,
Speak if I am forgiven.
11. Or let my LORD ftill hold His Peace, And do as feems Him good,
Forfake me in my last Distress,
And leave me in my Blood.
12. If He can find it in His Heart,
His Fury let Him pour
On me, and from my Soul depart,
And never love me more.
13. I leave it all to Him alone,
It lies within His Breast,
His Will, His only Will be done,
Let me be Curft, or Bleft.
MNISCIENT GOD, whofe Eyelids try
The Self-deceiving Sons of Men,
To Thee how fhall I dare draw nigh,
A Man of Lips and Heart unclean!
Thou know'ft, I mean not what I fay,
Thou know'ft, I only feem to pray.
2. Doubtless Thou art of purer Eyes
Than to behold Iniquity,
And all my Nature naked lies,
And all my Thoughts appear to Thee,
No Fig-Leaves from Thy Sight can hide
My Filthiness of Self, and Pride.
3. O my Abominable Heart!
Its Secrets all to Thee are known, The Sin from which I cannot part,
The Sin that claims me for its own;
Thou feeft it All, my Nature's Shame,
Thou feeft, what I fhou'd die to Name.
4. The foul Reproach I groan to bear,
And vainly ftruggle to get free,
Yet ftill I breath a tainted Air,
Tainted, alas! by Sin and Me,
And wish for Wings to flee away2
And ever in the Defart stay.
O that I had a Cottage there
To lodge a poor Wayfaring Man!
Far from the World of Noife, and Care,
Of Grief, Anxiety, and Pain,
O could I from my People roam,
And be, where none but God could come.
6. Me as a Bowl if now He turn,
To foreign Climes with Violence tofs,
I would not for a Moment mourn
My Kindred, or my Country's Lofs;
A voluntary Exile I
Would there confent to live, and die.
7. O might I have my One Requeft,
My fond, and foolish Heart's Defire,
And get me hence, and be at reft,
Into the deepest Shades retire,
Be clean forgot, and out of Mind
O where fhall I the Defart find!
8. Can Earth afford that Secret Place?
Long have I fought it out in vain,
And fled before the Human Face,
And drag'd to diftant Worlds my Chain,
Yet ftill I found the Carnal Mind,
I could not leave Myself behind.
9. 'Tis vain, I find, from Self to flee
For Reft, to Earth's remotest Bound,
The Deep cries out, 'Tis not in Me!
Happiness is not to be found,
Save only, JESUS, in Thy Breaft:
Thou art the Soul's Eternal Reft.
10. But how shall I to Thee attain, Thee, whom I finfully purfue, Unprofitable I, and vain!
Thy Glory is not in my View:
What shall I fay, Thy Grace to win?
My very Prayer is turn'd to Sin.
11. Nothing in Me Thy Grace can move,
A Wretched Man of Sin I am;
But Thou art Good, but Thou art Love,
And JESUS is Thy healing Name:
Oh! for Thy Name, and Mercy's Sake,
The Sinner to Thy Bofom take.
12. Do as Thou findeft in Thy Heart,
Reject me, Saviour, or receive,
Bid me from Thee to Hell depart,
Or bid me come to Thee, and live;
I truft my Soul to This alone,
Let all Thy Will on me be done.
A Poor SINNER.
OW happy is the Man
Who fees his Mifery,
Who ever feels his Nature's Chain,
Nor murmurs to be free.
Who waits in Patient Hope,
And languifhing for Home
With chearful Confidence looks up,
And fays, My LORD will come.
2. He neither hopes nor fears
Evil, or Good below,
But fighs for GoD, and lets his Tears
In fecret Silence flow.
Stript of his Joy, he grieves
Quiet, and meek, and ftill;
The Matter to his Father leaves,
And bids Him work His Will.
He cannot fnatch undue Relief,
Or with his Mifery lefs:
"My Father's Will is good,
(The Patient Mourner cries)
"He never gives a Stone for Food,
"Or flights his Children's Sighs.
O that I thus refign'd
Might bear my Nature's Load,
O that in Me were fuch a Mind
To leave the whole to GOD!
With Him to truft my Cause,
And quietly endure,
Till He remove the Hallow'd Cross,
And all my Sickness cure.
I would (but Thou canst tell)
I would be humble, LORD,
My Burthen every Moment feel,
And tremble at Thy Word:
I would be ftript of All,
And calmly wait Thy Stay,
Poor at Thy Feet, and helpless fall,
And weep my Life away.
I would be truly ftill,
Nor fet a Time to Thee,
But act according to Thy Will,
And speak, and think, and be.
I would with Thee be One, And till the Grace is given, Inceffant pray, Thy Will be done In Earth, as 'tis in Heaven.
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