So let thy faith and pray'rs afcend together,
Then may'st thou foon expect a change of weather,
When clouds of Gofpel-incense rise amain,
'Tis a fure token of a gracious rain,
WHEN faithful Mofes, God's familiar friend,
From Sinai's facred mountain did descend;
Where he, with freedom, had obtain'd the grace,
To commune with his Maker, face to face,
And from his mouth wrote that eternal law
Of him, whofe effence mortals never faw;
His vifage fhone, fuch luftre did appear
On Mofes, that the fons of Ifraei were
Amaz'd, amus'd to see those beams divine
On his majestic front fo clearly shine;
Nor were they able to behold the rays,
Or him approach till he had veil'd his face,
So Peter, when he had with Jesus been,
Such grace was in his fpeech and visage feen,
As made him known unto the ftanders-by,
When he, through fear, his Saviour did deny.
Heav'n ftamps a glory, makes the face to fhine,
And render mortals more than half divine.
Hence 'twas such luftre on their brows abode,
Mofes and Peter had convers'd with God.
WHO grasp at fecrets, often like the fly,
Prying too near the flame, are scorch'd thereby.
THIS life's a paffage through a sea of tears,
Where faints with fins and forrows are oppreft,
'Tis vain t'expect a freedom from our fears,
Till death fhall land us in eternal rest
IT is a facred art, whereby
In getting low, we foar above the sky,
And hold communion with the Deity.
'Tis not more strange than true, the way to rife With God, is to be low in our own eyes; Who counts himself a fool, is truly wife.
The roots of talleft cedars always grow
Deep i'th' earth; with grace 'tis even fo
He's truly high, whofe heart is truly low.
Formio, or a Time-ferver.
FORMIO's a zealot for religion, when
She's borne upon the foaring wings
Of popular applause, and entertain❜d by men,
And countenanc'd by kings,
Or when the profit brings:
But while fhe wants public efteem,
He's not for launching againft wind and ftream.
The easy duties, and th' external part
Of worship, he'll not stick to do;
He'll wash the cup and platter too:
But when it comes to cleanfing of the heart,
Oh! then he starts, and will no farther go.
He follows Chrift, while Titan's rays,
With brightness fill the circumambient air:
But if the weather prove not fair,
His hot love foon decays,
He cannot perfecution bear,
: But falls away like fruit,
Wither'd for want of union with the root.
When Chrift is with Hofannas bleft,
And rides in peaceful triumph with a fong,
Formio will follow with the reft,
And makes up one among the throng;
As willing and as ready as the best,
While he's fecure from harms,
He'll cry Hofannah too, and ftrew the way with palms:
But when our Saviour's ready footsteps bend
Unto that folitary place,
Wherefoul diftrefs made drops of gelid gore defcend,
Like fweat from off the face;
Or when he wears a crown of thorns,
Then Formio flacks his pace,
And looks like one forlorn :
Now fearful of his Saviour's company,
He durft not own him, or come nigh,
But leaves him all alone to go to Calvary.
Like a dull jade, when he perceives the load, With eafy motions follows on;
Upon fome even plain, or in a down-hill road, He's ready then to run,
With chearful neighs without, or whip, or goad,
His fellow fteeds among:
And when the burden's weight he feels,
And miry ways obftruct the wheels,
Beneath the afcent of fome craggy hill,
His courage then gives o'er ;
He backward runs, or else stands still :
He shakes his harness off, and draws no more.
Or like a lazy foldier, who with ease Hath ferv'd his captain many years, Within fome garrifon immur'd in times of peace When he's fecure from fears:
But when the trumpet fills his ears,
With an alarm, to let him know
That time admits of no delay;
The foes approach, and forthwith he must go
To meet them-his fpirits now decay;
And rather than he'll fight, he fairly runs away.
Thus Formio does, when perfecutions rise,
He turns his back, and his first faith denies, And will at last be found among Chrift's enemies.
'TWAS man that fin'd, and justice doth exact
That he should pay who did the debt contract.
But ftay, th' offence is of an higher nature
Than man can anfwer; 'tis the great Creator,
Whofe juftice is offended, and from thence
Man's fin becomes an infinite offence.
|