With grace enrich me from thy plenteous store;
Subdue my will entirely unto thine;

Grant me but this request, I'll ask no more,
Be thou my God, and happiness is mine.

Humble Sincerity.

IN acts of worship, when we bring
Eternal offerings to th' eternal king,
He values not the coftly price,
Nor grandeur of the facrifice.

Affected modes of outward dress,
Or pompous fhews of fervices,
Numbers of duties, nought avail;
He counts by weight, and not by tale.

The ftately offerings of the rich,
With fine embroideries of speech,
Embofs'd with flowery words around,
Like victim beafts with chaplets crown'd.

Such glitt'ring things may mortals please,
But Heav'n is charm'd with none of these :
His eyes impartial justice hold,

And from the tinfel know the gold.

He tries the reins, the inmoft part,

Obferves the movement of the heart;

I

Thofe

Those secret springs he fully knows,
Whence every word and action flows.

To perfons he has no respect,
Nor will the pious poor reject;
He makes the meek his favourite,
A contrite fpirit's his delight.

He lifts the weak above their fears,
And bottles up the mourner's tears;
His love's a never failing prop
To fainting faith and ftagg'ring hope.

His quick'ning grace, like gentle dews,
To dying plants their life renews;
The bruised head his arm will raise,
And make the smoking flax to blaze.

He knows the meaning of the dumb,
No less than accents of the tongue;
And fighs and groans from hearts fincere,
Are mufick in th' Almighty's ear.

Where poverty denies a lamb,

To make the facred altar flame;
Kind Heav'n the willing mind approves,

And takes a pair of turtle doves.

While others of their larger ftore,

Bring greater gifts, Lord, I am poor;

And

And fince my stock amounts no higher,
Accept my mite of pure defire.

The Chriftians Voyage to the Port of Reft.

THE weary matiner long time diftreft,

With cares and fears upon the ftormy main, Driv'n by uncertain gales from east to west,

Confum'd with labours and continual pain, Longing to find his port, with watchful eyes Looks round about him, and at last espiesDelightful view!--the wifh'd-for land arise.

Fresh vigour now his fainting powers poffefs,
His heart revives, and dying hopes renew;
And as the distance leffens, joys encrease,

While near approaches give a clearer view.
At length the country doth itself disclose,
The fpicy hills appear where pleasure grows,
And from the fragrant air refreshing comfort flows.

The royal city next comes on in fight,

Whose rows of stately towers advanc'd on high, At once furprise with wonder and delight, Dazzling with luftre the beholder's eye.

While thus discovering things unfeen before,
The distance vanishes and danger's o'er,

The haven is at hand, he gains the fhore.

-

I'm weary with th' tedious voyage of life,
While failing on the world's tempeftuous feas,
Inconftant winds maintain inconstant strife,

To kill my comforts, and disturb my peace.
Sometimes afflictions, like impetuous fhowers,
And northern blasts attack my vital powers,
Whofe racking pain my health and strength devours.

Next from the eastern coaft a tempeft fprings

Of strong temptations, hiffing through the air; Like fiery ferpents with their dreadful ftings, To drive me to prefumption or despair. To ftem the current of these boisterous tides, Shocks all my powers, my very heart divides, And thro' my joints a chilling terror glides.

Sometimes I'm favour'd with a milder gale,
By gentle Zephyr, whofe indulgent breeze,
With hope new-blooming fills my fwelling fail,
To waft me foftly o'er the calmer feas.
This yields refreshment after former toil,
And fooths my grief with pleasures that beguile :
But ah! this feafon lafts a little while.

Strait from the fouth comes on a gloomy fcene,

With fogs and mifts of heart-tormenting cares; The Heav'ns grow dark which were before ferene,

And troubles heightened with perplex'd affairs : With lab'ring thoughts the mind's distracted fo, I know not what to do, nor where to go; Sometimes I fail too faft, again too flow.

Thus hurry'd up and down this mortal state,
The poor remains of my uncertain days;
Great God, I will for thy falvation wait,

My fpirits languish, and my flesh decays.
My strength enfeebled, and old age comes on,
And pains and fears attend my setting sun,
All tokens fure, that life is nearly done.

While thus upon the parting brink I stand,
With brighter vifions let my faith be bleft;
Give me a Pisgah, fight of Canaan land,

And fhew my title to the promis'd reft.
My last petition grant, which shall be this,
Let Jefus fay he's mine, and I am his;
I'd plunge into the gulph, and realms of bliss.

VOL. I:

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