7 Nor dens of prey, nor flow'ry plains, Nor earthly joys, nor earthly pains, Shall hold my feet, or force my stay, When Chrift invites my foul away. HYMN LXXIV. Long Metre. The Church the Garden of Christ.

Song, iv. 12, 13, 15, and v. 1.

Solomon's

WE are a garden wall'd around,

Chofen and made peculiar ground;

A little fpot, inclos'd by grace, Out of the world's wide wilderness. 2 Like trees of myrrh and spice we stand, Planted by God the Father's hand; And all his fprings in Zion flow, To make the young plantation grow. 3 Awake, O heav'nly wind, and come, Blow on this garden of perfume; Spirit divine, defcend and breathe A gracious gale on plants beneath. Make our beft fpices flow abroad, To entertain our Saviour God: And faith, and love, and joy appear, And ev'ry grace be active here. [Let my beloved come and taste His pleasant fruits at his own feaft; "I come, my fpoufe, I come," he cries, With love and pleafure in his eyes. 6 Our Lord into his garden comes, Well pleas'd to fmell our poor perfumes, And calls us to a feast divine, Sweeter than honey, milk or wine. 7 "Eat of the tree of life, my friends, "The bleffings that my Father fends;

+5

"Your tafte fhall all my dainties prove, "And drink abundance of my love." 8 Jefus, we will frequent thy board, And fing the bounties of our Lord : But the rich food on which we live Demands more praise than tongue can give.] HYMN LXXV. Long Metre. The Defeription of Chrift the Beloved. Solomon's Song, v. 9-12, 14—16.

HE wond'ring world inquires to know
Why I fhould love my Jefus fo:

"What are his charms, fay they, above "The objects of a mortal love ?"

2 Yes, my beloved to my fight
Shews a fweet mixture, red and white :
All human beauties, all divine,
In my beloved meet and fhine.

3 White is his foul, from blemish free
Red with the blood he fhed for me;
The fairest of ten thousand fairs;
A fun amongst ten thousand stars.
4 [His head the finest gold excels;
There wisdom in perfection dwells,
And glory like a crown adorns
Thofe temples once befet with thorns.
5 Compaffions in his heart are found,
Clofe by the fignals of his wound :
His facred fide no more shall bear
The cruel fcourge, the piercing fpear.]
6 [His hands are fairer to behold
Than diamonds fet in rings of gold;
Thofe heav'nly hands, that on the tree
Were nail'd, and torn, and bled for me.

Though once he bow'd his feeble knees,
Loaded with fins and agonies,

Now, on the throne of his command,
His legs like marble pillars ftand.]
8 [His eyes are majesty and love,
The eagle temper'd with the dove ;
No more fhall trickling forrows roll
Through those dear windows of his foul.]
9 His mouth, that pour'd out long complaints,
Now fmiles, and cheers his fainting faints;
His countenance more graceful is
Than Lebanon with all its trees.

10 All over glorious is my Lord,

Must be belov'd, and yet ador'd;
His worth if all the nations knew,
Sure the whole earth would love him too.

HYMN LXXVI. Long Metre. Chrift dwells in Heaven, but vifits on Earth. Solomon's Song, vi. 1, 2, 3, 12.

I

WE

HEN ftrangers ftand and hear me tell What beauties in my Saviour dwell; Where he is gone, they fain would know, That they may feek and love him too. 2 My beft beloved keeps his throne On hills of light, in worlds unknown: But he defcends and fhows his face In the young gardens of his grace. 3 [In vineyards planted by his hand, Where fruitful trees in order ftand ; He feeds among the fpicy beds, Where lilies fhow their fpotlefs heads.

4 He has engrofs'd my warmest love, No earthly charms my foul can move : I have a manfion in his heart,

Nor death, nor hell, fhall make us part.] 5 [He takes my foul ere I'm aware, And fhows me where his glories are ; No chariot of Amminadib

The heav'nly rapture can defcribe. 60 may my fpirit daily rife

On wings of faith above the fkies,
Till death fhall make my laft remove,
To dwell for ever with my love.]

HYMN LXXVII. Long Metre. The Love of Chrift to the Church, in his Language to her, and Provifions for her. Solomon's Song, vii. 5, 6, 9, 12, 13.

1

N

TOW, in the gall'ries of his grace, Appears the King, and thus he fays, "How fair my faints are in my fight, "My love how pleasant for delight!" 2 Kind is thy language, fov'reign Lord, There's heav'nly grace in ev'ry word; From that dear mouth a ftream divine Flows fweeter than the choiceft wine. 3 Such wond'rous love awakes the lip Of faints, that were almoft afleep, To speak the praises of thy name, And make our cold affections flame,

4 Thefe are the joys he lets us know
In fields and villages below:
Gives us a relifh of his love,
But keeps his nobleft feast above.

5 In Paradife, within the gates,
An higher entertainment waits ;
Fruits new and old, laid up in ftore,
Where we fhall feed, but thirst no more.

HYMN LXXVIII. Long Metre.

The Strength of Chrift's Love, and the Soul's Jealousy of her own. Solomon's Song, viii.

5-7, 13, 14.

W

HO is this fair one in diftrefs,
That travels from the wilderness,
And prefs'd with forrows and with fins,
On her beloved Lord fhe leans?

2 This is the spouse of Chrift our God,
Bought with the treasures of his blood;
And her requeft, and her complaint,
Is but the voice of ev'ry faint.

3

"O let my name engraven ftand "Both on thy heart, and on thy hand; "Seal me upon thine arm, and wear "That pledge of love for ever there. 4 "Stronger than death thy love is known, "Which floods of wrath could never drown; "And hell and earth in vain combine "To quench a fire fo much divine.

5

"But I am jealous of my heart,
"Left it fhould once from thee depart;
"Then let thy name be well impress'd
"As a fair fignet on my breast.

6 "Till thou haft brought me to thy home,
"Where fears and doubts can never come;
"Thy count'nance let me often fee,
"And often thou fhalt hear from me.