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3 Vain, vexing world, and flesh and fenfe, Retire, while I approach my God;

Nor let

my

fins divide me thence ;

Nor creatures tempt my thoughts abroad.

4 While to thy arms, my God, I prefs,'
No mortal hope, nor joy, nor fear,
Shall call my foul from thy embrace,
'Tis heav'n to dwell for ever there.

CCVIII. The Scale of Blessed

A

nels.

SCEND my thoughts, by juft degrees,
Let contemplation rove,

O'er all the rifing ranks of blifs,

Here, and in worlds above.

2 Bleft is the nation near jo God,

Where he makes known his ways; Bleft are the men whofe feet have trod The lower courts of grace.

3 Bleft were the Levite, and the Prieft,
Who near his altar stood;
Bleft are the fouls from fin releas'd,
And reconcil'd with blood.

4 Bleft are the fouls difmifs'd from clay;

Before his face they stand:

Bleft angels, in their bright array
Attend his great command.

R 3

5 Jefus

5 Jefus is more divinely blest,
Where man to Godhead join'd,
Hath joys tranfcending all the reft,
More noble, more refin'd.

6 But O! what words, or thoughts can trace
The bleffed THREE IN ONE ?
Here reft my fpirit, and confefs
The INFINITE UNKNOWN.

CCIX.

I

Appearance before God

here and hereafter. Pfalm. xlii.

2

W

HILE I am banish'd from thy house, I mourn in fecret, Lord: "When fhall I come and pay my vows, "And hear thy holy word ?"

2 So while I dwell in bonds of clay,
Methinks my foul should groan ;
"When shall I wing my heav'nly way,
"And ftand before thy throne ?"

3 I love to fee my Lord below,
His church difplays his grace :
But upper worlds his glory know,
And view him face to face.

4 I love to worship at his feet,

Tho' fin attack me there:

But

But faints exalted near his feat,
Have no affaults to fear.

5 I'm pleas'd to meet him in his courts,
And tafte his heav'nly love:
But ftill I think his vifits fhort,
Or I too foon remove.

6 He fhines, and gives my foul delight,
And takes away my pain:

When fhall I fee the realms of light,
And with my Saviour reign?

CCX.

I

S

A rational Defence of the
Gospel Rom. i. 16.

HALL Atheists dare t' infult the cross
Of our Redeemer-God?

Shall Infidels reproach his laws,
Or trample on his blood?

2 What if he chufe myfterious ways
To take away our faults?
May not the works of fov'reign grace,
Tranfcend our feeble thoughts?

3 What if his gospel bid us fight
With flesh, and fenfe and fin ?
The prize is moft divinely bright,
That we are call'd to win.

4 What if the foolish and the poor,
His glorious grace partake?

This

This but confirms his truth the more;
For fo the prophets spake.

5

Do fome that own his facred name,
Indulge themselves in fin?

Jefus fhall never bear the blame ;

His laws are pure and clean.

1

6 Then let our faith grow firm and strong;
Our lips profefs his word :

Nor blush, nor fear, to walk among
The men that love the Lord.

CCXI

The Gofpel the Power of

God to Salvation. Rom. i. 16

W

HAT fhall the dying finner do,

That feeks relief for all his woe?

Where shall the guilty confcience find
Eafe for the torment of his mind.

2 How fhall we get our fins forgiv'n ?
Or form our natures meet for heav'n?
Can fouls all o'er defil'd with fin

Make their own pow'rs or paffions clean ?

3 In vain we fearch, in vain we try,
'Till Jefus brings his gospel nigh:
'Tis there fuch pow'r and glory dwell,
As faves rebellious fouls from hell.

4 This is the pillar of our hope
This bears our fainting spirits up:

We

5

We read the grace, we truft the word,
And find falvation in the Lord.

Let men or angels dig the mines
Where nature's golden treasure shines;
Brought near the doctrine of the cross,
All nature's gold appears but drofs.

6 Should vile blafphemers, with difdain,
Pronounce the truths of Jefus vain;
I'll meet the fcandal and the shame;
And fing and triumph in his name,

CCXII.

I

J

None excluded from
Hope.

ESUS, thy bleffings are not few,
Nor is thy gofpel weak :

Thy grace can melt the ftubborn Jew
And heal the dying Greek.

2 Wide as the reach of Satan's rage,
Doth thy falvation flow:
'Tis not confin'd to fex or age,
The lofty or the low.

3 While grace is offer'd to the prince,
The poor may take his share;
No mortal hath a just pretence
To perish id despair.

4

Be wife, ye men of ftrength and wit,
Nor boaft your native pow'rs;

But

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