The toad, by ready instinct taught,
An antidote, when wounded, sought
From the herb Plantane, growing near,
Well known to toads its virtues rare,
The spider's poison to repel;
It cropp'd the leaf, and soon was well.
This remedy it often try'd,
And all the spider's rage defy'd.
The person who the contest view'd,
While yet the battle doubtful stood,
Remov'd the healing plant away-
And thus the spider gain'd the day:
For when the toad return'd once more
Wounded, as it had done before,
To seek relief, and found it not,
It swell'd, and dy'd upon the spot.

In ev'ry circumstance but one, (Could that hold too, I were undone,) No glass can represent my face More justly than this tale my case. The toad's an emblem of my heart, And Satan acts the spider's part. Envenom'd by his poison, I Am often at the point to die; But he who hung upon the tree, From guilt and wo to set me free, Is like the Plantane leaf to me. To him my wounded soul repairs,

He knows my pain, and hears my pray'rs;

From him I virtue draw, by faith,
Which saves me from the jaws of death:
From him fresh life and strength I gain,
And Satan spends his rage in vain.
No secret arts or open force
Can rob me of this sure resource;
Though banish'd to some distant land,
My medicine would be still at hand;
Though foolish men its worth deny,
Experience gives them all the lie;
Though Deists and Socinians join,
Jesus still lives, and still is mine.
"Tis here the happy diff'rence lies,
My Saviour reigns above the skies,
Yet to my soul is always near,
For he is God, and ev'ry where.
His blood a sov'reign balm is found
For ev'ry grief, and ev'ry wound;
And sooner all the hills shall flee,
And hide themselves beneath the sea;
Orocean, starting from its bed, [head;
Rush o'er the cloud-topt mountain's
The sun exhausted of its light,
Become the source of endless night ;
And ruin spread from pole to pole;
Than Jesus fail the tempted soul.

TO THE