XWI. Part the fecond.

LORD, what a heav'n of faving grace
Shines through the beauties of thy face,
And lights our paffions to a flame;
Lord, how we love thy charming name
2 When I can fay-My God is mine;
When I can feel thy glories fhine,
I tread the world beneath my feet,
And all the earth call 8 good or great.
3 While fuch a scene of facred joys
Our raptur'd eyes and fouls employs,
Here we could fit, and gaze away,
A long, an everlasting day.

4 Well we fhall quickly pafs the night
To the fair coaft of perfect light;
Then fhall our joyful fenfes rove

O'er the dear object of our love.

Is There fhall we drink full draughts of bliss,
And pluck new life from heav'nly trees!
Yet now and then, dear Lord beftow

A drop of heav'n on worins below.

6 Send comforts down from thy right hand While we pass through this barren land; And, in thy temple, let us fee

A glimpfe of love, a glimple of Thee.]

Xyu. God's Eternity.

RISE, rife, my foul and leave the ground,

Stretch all thy thoughts abroad!

And roufe up ev'ry tuneful found

To praise th'eternal God.

2 Long, e'er the lofty skies were spread,
Jehovah fill'd his throne:

E'er Adam form, or angels made,
The Maker liv'd alone.

3 His boundless years can ne'er decrease,
But ftia maintain their prime;
ETERNITY's his dwelling place
And EVER is his time.

4 While, like a tide, our minutes flow,
The prefent and the past:

He fills his own immortal NOW,
And fees our ages wafte.

5 The fea and fky muft perish too,
And vaft deftruction come;

The creatures look how old they grow,
And wait their fiery doem!

6 Well-let the fea fhrink all away,
And flame melt down the fķics;
My God fhall live an endless day,-.
When th' old creation dies.

XVII.› The Ministry of Angels.

HIGH

on a hill of dazzling light The King of glory fpreads his feat, And troops of angels, ftreach'd for flight, Stand waiting at 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 Saviourcome.”
3 Here a bright fquadron leaves the fkies,
And thick around Elisha ftands;
Anon, a heav'nly foldier 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 coafts,
Let angels be our convoy too.

5 Are they not all thy fervants, Lord?
Atthy command they go and come ;.

With cheerful hafte obey thy word,

And guard thy children to their home.

XIX Our frail Bodies, and God our Preferver.
ET others boat how ftrong they be,
Nor death, nor danger fear;

LE

But we ll confefs, O Lord, to thee,
What feeble things we are.

Frefh as the grafs, our bodies ftand-
And flourish bright and gay:
A blafting wind fweeps o'er the land,
And fades the grafs away.

3 Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies, if one be gone :

Strange that a harp, of thousand ftrings,
Should keep in tune fo long.

4 But 'tis our Go fupports our frame-
The God who built us firft;
Salvation to th' Almighty name.
That rear'd us from the duft.

5

He fpake- andftraight 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. Backfliding and Returns

THY is

WHY! my heart fo far from Thee,

My God, my chief delight? Why are my thoughts no more by day With thee, no more by night?

[Why fhould my foolish paffions rove? Where can fuch fweetnefs be,

As I have tafted in thy love,

As I have found in thee?]

3 When my forgetful foul renews
The favor of thy grace,

My heart prefumes I cannot lofe
The relish, all my days.

But e'er one fleeting hour is past,
The flatt'ring world employs
Some fenfual bait, to feize my tafte,
And to pollute my joys.

Is Trifles of nature, or of art,
With fair deceitful charms,
Intrude into my thoughtless heart,
And thruft thee from my arms.

6 Then I repent, and vex my

That I fhould lofe thee fo

foul

Where will thofe wild affections roll
Which let a Saviour go?}

17 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 foul with sweet furprize,
He draws with loving bands;
Divine compaffion's in his eyes,
And pardon's 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 fight.

to Make hafte, my days, to reach the goal,
And bring my heart to rest

On the dear centre of my foul,

My God, my Saviour's breaft!

XXI. A Song of Praie to God the Redeemer.

ET the old heathen tune their long

LE

Of great Diana, and of Jove;

But the fweet theme which moves my tongue,
Is my Redeemer and his love.

2 Behold a God defcends and dies,
To fave my foul from gaping hell!
How the black guph, wher fatan Mess
Yawn'd to receive me, when I fell!

3 How juftice frown'd, and Vengeance flood,
To drive me down to endlets pain;
But the great fon propos'd his blood,
And heav'nly wrath grew mild again.
4 Infinite Lover! gracious Lord!
To Thee be endless honors giv❜n:
Thy wond'rous Name fhall be ador❜d,
Round the wide earth, and wider heav'n.

XXII. With Gol is terrible Majefty.

TERRIBLE Gist by the ring hand
ERRIBLE God, who reign'ft on high,

Thy fiery bolts, how fierce they fly!
Nor can all earth, or hell withstand.
2 This the old rebel-angels knew,
And fatan fell beneath thy frown,
Thine arrows ftruck the traitor through,
And weighty vengeance funk him down.

3This Sodom felt-and feels it fill-
And roars beneath th' eternal load :
With endless burning, who can dwell,
Or bear the fury ofa God?

4 Tremble, ye finners, and fubmit:
Throw down your arms before his throne
Bend your heads low beneath his feet,
Or his ftrong hand fhall crush you 'down :