7 To Adam, foon as he tranfgrefs'd,
Thus Eden bloom'd invain;
Not paradife could give him reft,
Or footh his heart-felt pain.
8 Yet here an emblem I perceive
Of what the LORD can do ;
Dear Saviour, help me to believe,
That I may flourish too.
9 Thy word can foon my hopes revive,
Can overcome my foes:
And make my languid graces thrive,
And bloffom like the rofe.
PLeafing Spring again is here!
Trees and fields in bloom appear
Hark! the birds, with artlefs lays,
Warble their Creator's praife!
Where, in winter, all was fnow,
Now the flow'rs in clufters
grow;
And the corn, in green array,
Promises a harvest-day.
2 What a change has taken place!
Emblem of the spring of grace;
How the foul, in winter, mourns
Till the LORD, the Sun, returns;
Till the Spirit's gentle rain,
Bids the heart revive again;
Then the ftone is turn'd to fefh,
And each grace fprings forth afreth.
3 LORD, afford a spring to me!
Let me feel like what 1 fee;
Ah! my winter has been long,
Chill'd my hopes and flopp'd my fong!
Winter threat'ned to destroy
Faith and love, and ev'ry joy;
If thy life was in the root,
Still I could not yield thee fruit.
Speak, and by thy gracious voice
Make my drooping foul rejoice;
O beloved Saviour hafte,
Tell me all the ftorms are paft:
On thy garden deign to fmile,
Raife the plants, enrich the foil;
Soon thy prefence will reftore
Life, to what feem'd dead before.
5 LORD, I long to be at home,
Where these changes never come!
Where the faints no winter fear,
Where 'tis fpring throughout the year;
How unlike this ftate below!
There the flow'rs unwith'ring blow;
There no chilling blafts annoy,
All is love, and bloom, and joy,
XXXIV. Summer storms (q)•
HO' the morn may be ferene.
Not a threat'ning cloud be feen;
Who can undertake to fay
Twill be pleafant all the day?
Tempefts fuddenly may rife,
Darkness overfpread the skies!
Light'nings flash, and thunders roar,
Ere a fhort-liv'd day be o'er.
2. Often thus, the child of grace,
Enters on his chriftian race;
Guilt and fear are overborne,
'Tis with him a fummer's morn;
While his new-felt joys abound,
All things feem to fmile around ;
And he hopes it will be fair,
All the day, and all the year.
Should we warn him of a change,
He would think the caution ftrange;
He no change or trouble fears,
Till the gath'ring ftorm appears(r);
Till dark clouds his fun conceal,
'Till temptation's pow'r he feel;
Then he trembles, and looks pale,
All his hopes and courage fail.
But the wonder-working LORD
Sooths the tempeft by his word;
Stills the thunder, ftops the rain,
And his fun breaks forth again :
Soon the cloud again returns,
Now he joys, and now he mourns;
Oft his fky is overcaft,
Ere the day of life be past.
5 Try'd believers too can fay, In the courfe of one fhort day,
Tho' the morning has been fair,
Prov'd a golden hour of pray❜r:
Sin, and Satan, long ere night,
Have their comforts put to flight;
Ah! what heart-felt peace and joy
Unexpected storms destroy.
6 Deareft Saviour, call us foon
To thine high eternal noon;
Never there fhall tempeft rife
To conceal thee from our eyes:
Satan fhall no more deceive,
We no more thy Spirit grieve;
But thro' cloudlefs, endless days,
Sound, to golden harps, thy praise.
HE grafs, and flow'rs, which clothe the field,
And look fo green and gay;
Touch'd by the fcythe, defenceless yield, And fall, and fade away.
2 Fit emblem of our mortal state!
Thus in the fcripture glass,
The young, the ftrong, the wife, the great, May fee themselves but grafs (s). 3 Ah! truft not to your fleeting breath, Nor call your time your own; Around you fee, the fcythe of death Is mowing thousands down.
4 And you, who hitherto are fpar'd, Muft fhortly yield your lives;
Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,
Before the ftroke arrives.
5 The grafs, when dead, revives no more, You die, to live again;
But oh! if death fhould prove the door,
To everlasting pain.
6 LORD, help us to obey thy call,
That from our fins fet free;
When like the grafs our bodies fall,
Our fouls may spring to thee.
SEE! the corn again in ear!
How the fields and valleys fmile!
Harveft now is drawing near
To repay the farmers toil :
Gracious LORD, fecure the crop,
Satisfy the poor with food;
In thy mercy is our hope,
We have finn'd, but thou art good.
2 While I view the plenteous grain,
As it ripens on the stalk;
May I not inftruction gain,
Helpful, to my daily walk?-
All this plenty of the field
Was produc'd from foreign feeds;
For the earth itself would yield
Only crops of ufelefs weeds.
3 Tho', when newly fown, it lay
Hid awhile beneath the ground,
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