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From fin and forrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.

II.

O fource of uncreated light!
The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanctify us while we fing.

III.

Plenteous of grace defcend from high,
Rich in thy feven-fold energy!
Thou ftrength of his almighty hand,
Whose power does heav'n and earth command,
Proceeding spirit, our defence,

Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe,
And crown'ft thy gift with eloquence,
Refine, and purge our earthly parts,
But oh! inflame and fire our hearts!

IV.

Our faculties help, and vice controul,
Submit the senses to the foul,
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand and hold 'em down.

V.

Chace from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And left our peace fhou'd step aftray,
Protect and guide us in the way.
VI.
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe;
Give us thy felf, that we may fee
The Father and the Son by thee.

VII.

Immortal honours, endless fame
Attend th' Almighty Father's name :
The Saviour Son be glorify'd,
Who for loft man's redemption dy'd;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee.

The

The cxxxix. PSALM paraphras'd to the 14th verfe.

By Mr. Norris.

I.

N vain, great God, in vain I try

T'efcape thy quick all-fearching eye a
Thou with one undivided view
Doft look the whole creation through.
The unfhap d embryos of my mind,
Not yet to form or likeness wrought,
The tender rudiments of thought,

Thou fee'ft before she can her own conception find.

II.

My private walks to thee are known,

In folitude I'm not alone,

Thou round my bed a guard doft keep,
Thy eyes are open while mine fleep,
My fofteft whilpers reach thy ear,
"Tis vain to fancy fecrefy;

Which way foe'er I turn thou'rt there,
I'm all around befet with thy immenfity.

III.

I can't wade thro' this deep I find,
It drowns and fwallows up my mind:
'Tis like thy immenfe Deity,

I cannot fathom that or thee:
Where then shall I a refuge find,

From thy bright comprehenfive eye?

Whither, O whither shall I fly!

What place is not poffeft with thy all-filling mind!
If to the heavenly orbs I fly,
There is thy feat of majesty ;
If down to hell's abyss I go,
There I am fure to meet thee too.
Shou'd I, with the fwift wings of light,
Seek fome remote and unknown land,
Thou foon would't overtake my flight,

And all my motions rule with thy long-reaching hand.

V.

Shou'd I, t'avoid thy piercing fight,
Retire behind the skreen of night,

Thou

Thou can'ft with one celestial ray
Difpel the fhades and make it day.
Nor need'ft thou by fuch mediums fee;
The force of thy clear radient fight
Depends not on our groffer light:

On light thou fit'st enthron'd, 'tis ever day with thee,

VI.

The springs which life and motion givẹ
Are thine, by thee I move and live;

My frame has nothing hid from thee,
Thou know'ft my whole anatomy.
T'an hymn of praife I'll tune my lyre;
How amazing is this work of thine!
With dread I into my self retire,
For tho' the metal's base, the stamp is all divine.

D

A DESCRIPTION of HELL

In imitation of Milton. By Mrs. Row

EEP, to unfathomable spaces deep,
Defcend the dark, detefted paths of hell,
The gulphs of execration and despair,
Of pain, and rage, and pure unmingled woe;
The realms of endless death, and feats of night,
Uninterrupted night, which fees no dawn,
Prodigious darkness! which receives no light
But from the fickly blaze of fulph'rous flames,
That caft a pale and dead reflection round,
Disclosing all the defolate abyss,

Dreadful beyond what human thought can form,
Bounded with circling feas of liquid fire.
Aloft the blazing billows curl their heads,
And form a roar along the direful strand,
While ruddy cat'racts from on high descend
And urge the fiery ocean's ftormy rage.
Impending horrors o'er the region frown,
And weighty ruin threatens from on high;
Inevitable fnares, and fatal pits,
Gulphs of deep perdition wait below;
Whence iffue long, remedilefs complaints,

With

With endless groans, and everlasting yells.
Legions of ghaftly fiends (prodigious fight!)
Fly all confus'd across the fickly air,
And roaring horrid, shake the vast extent.
Pale meagre spectres wander all around,
And penfive fhades, and black deformed ghofts.
With impious fury some aloud blafpheme,
And wildly ftaring upwards curfe the skies;
While fome, with gloomy terror in their looks,
Trembling all over, downward caft their eyes,
And tell in hollow groans their deep defpair.
Convinc'd by fatal proofs, the atheist here
Yields to the fharp tormenting evidence,
And of an infinite eternal mind

At laft the challeng'd demonstration meets.
The libertine his folly here laments,
His blind extravagance, that made him fell
Unfading bliss, and everlasting crowns,
Immortal transports, and celeftial feafts,
For the fhort pleasure of a fordid fin;
For one fleet moment's despicable joy. }
Too late, all loft, for ever loft, he fees
The envy'd faints triumphing from afar,
And angels basking in the fimiles of God.
But oh! that all was for a trifle loft,
Gives to his bleeding foul perpetual wounds.

The wanton beauty, whose bewitching arts,
Has drawn ten thousand wretched fouls to hell,
Depriv'd of every blandishment and charm,
All black and horrid, feeks the darkest shades
To fhun the fury of revengeful ghosts,
That with vindictive curfes ftill pursue
The author of their miferable fate,
Who from the paths of life feduc'd their fouls,
And sent them down to these accurft abodes.

The fool that fold his heav'n for gilded clay, The fcorn of all the damn'd, ev'n here laments His fordid heaps, which still to purchase, he A fecond time wou'd forfeit all above; Nor covets fields of light nor ftarry wreaths, Nor angels fongs, nor pure unmingled bliss, But for his darling treafures ftill repines ;

Which from afar, to aggravate his doom,
He fees fome thoughtless prodigal confume.
Beyond them all a miferable hell

The execrable profecutor finds,

No fpirit howls among the fhades below
More damn'd, more fierce, nor more a fiend than he.
Aloud he heav'n and holiness blasphemes,
While all his enmity to good appears,
His enmity to good, once falfly call'd
Religious warmth, and charitable zeal.
On high, beyond th' unpaffable abyss,
To aggravate his righteous doom, he views
The blissful realms, and there the fchifmatic,
The vifionary, the deluded faint

By him fo often hated, wrong'd and scorn'd,
So often curs'd and damn'd, and banish'd thence,
He fees him there poffest of all that heav'n,
Those glories, those immortal joys, which he,
The orthodox, unerring catholic,

The mighty fav'rite, and elect of God,
With all his mifchievous, converting, arts,
His killing charity, and burning zeal,
His pompous creeds, and boafting faith, has loft.

By Mr. Welley.

MY harbingers the feven archangels bright,

Hark how their trumps the guilty world affright;

The awful trump of God! a call they found,
Is heard thro' nature's univerfal round;
That fignal heard from the diffolving sky,
Decrepit nature lays her down to dye.
Not fo man's deathless race, who now revive,
And muft in joy or pain for ever live.
From long confining tombs each dusky guest
Disturb'd arife, must never more to reft.
The cluft ring atoms, as before they were,
Together troop, the earth, the fea, the air,
Give up their dead, how different all they rife!
Those light and chearful, these behold the skies

With

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