Make me the captive of thy cross,
Submiffive to thy will.
Self in myself I hate,
That's matter of my groan;
Nor can I rid me from the mate
That causes me to moan.
O frail, inconftant flesh!
Soon trapt in ev'ry gin;
Soon turn'd, o'erturn'd, and fo afresh
Plung'd in the gulph of fin,
Shall I be flave to fin,
My Lord's most bloody foe!
I feel its pow'rful fway within,
How long fhall it be fo?
How long, Lord, fhall I ftay?
How long in Mesech here?
Difhon'ring thee from day to day,
Whofe name's to me fo dear?
While fin, Lord, breeds my grief,
And makes me fadly pine;
With blinks of grace, O grant relief,
Till beams of glory fhine.
SECT. IV. Complaint of fin, forrow, and want of love.
If black doom by defert fhould
Then, Lord, my due defert is death
Which robs from fouls immortal joy,
And from their bodies mortal breath.
But in fo great a Saviour,
Can e'er fo base a worm's annoy
Add any glory to thy pow'r,
Or any gladness to thy joy?
Thou justly may'ft me doom to death,
And everlasting flames of fire;
But on a wretch to pour thy wrath
Can never fure be worth thine ire.
Since Jefus the atonement was,
Let tender mercy me release;
Let him be umpire of my caufe,
And pafs the gladfome doom of peace.
Let grace forgive and love forget
My base, my vile apostacy;
And temper thy deserved hate
With love and mercy towards me.
The ruffling winds and raging blasts Hold me in constant cruel chace ; They break my anchors, fails, and masts, Allowing no repofing place.
The boift'rous feas with fwelling floods,
On every fide against me fight.
Heav'n, overcaft with ftormy clouds,
Dims all the planets' guiding light.
The hellish furies lie in wait,
To win my foul into their pow'r;
To make me bite at ev'ry bait,
And thus my killing bane devour.
I lie enchain'd in fin and thrall,
Next border unto black despair;
Till grace reftore, and of my fall
The doleful ruins all repair.
My hov'ring thoughts would flee to glore,
And neftle fafe above the sky;
Fain would my trembling fhip afhore
At that fure anchor quiet lie.
But mounting thoughts are haled down.
With heavy poife of corrupt load;
And bluft'ring ftorms deny with frown
An harbour of fecure abode.
To drown the wight that wakes the blast,
Thy fin-fubduing grace afford;
The storm might ceafe, could I but caft
This troublous Jonah overboard.
Bafe flesh, with flefhly pleasures gain'd,
Sweet grace's kindly fuit declines:
When mercy courts me for its friend,
Anon my fordid flesh repines.
Soar up, my foul, to Tabor hill,
Caft off this loathfome prefling load;
Long is the date of thine exile,
While abfent from the Lord thy God.
Dote not on earthly weeds and toys,
Which do not, cannot fuit thy taste :
The flowers of everlafting joys
Grow up apace for thy repaft.
Sith that the glorious God above
In Jefus bears a love to thee;
How bafe, how brutish is thy love
Of any being lefs than he?
Who for thy love did choose thy grief,
Content in love to live and die:
Who lov'd thy love more than his life,
And with his life thy love did buy.
Since then the God of richest love
With thy poor love enamour'd is ;
How high a crime will thee reprove
If not enamour'd deep with his ?
Since on the verdant field of
grace
His love does thine fo hot pursue;
Let love meet love with chafte embrace,
Thy mite a thousand fold is due.
Rife, love, thou early heaven, and fing,
Young little dawn of endless day:
I'll on thy mounting fiery wing
In joyful raptures melt away.
SECT. V. The deferted Soul's prayer for the Lord's gra cious and fin-fubduing prefence.
KIND Jefus, come in love to me,
And make no longer ftay;
Or elfe receive my foul to thee,
That breathes to be away.
A Lazar at thy gate I lie,
As well it me becomes,
For children's bread afham'd to cry:
O grant a dog the crumbs.
My wounds and rags my need proclaim,
They needful help infure:
My wounds bear witnefs that I'm lame,
My rags that I am poor,
Thou many at thy door doft feed
With mercy when distrest;
O wilt thou not fhew an alms deed
To me among the rest?
None else can give my foul relief,
None else can eafe my moan,
But he whose absence is my grief :
All other joys be gone.
How can I cease from fad complaint,
How can I be at reft?
My mind can never be content
To want my noble guest.
Drop down, mine eyes, and never tire,
Cease not on any terms, Until I have my heart's defire,
My Lord within mine arms.
My heart, my hand, my fpirits fail,
When hiding off he goes;
My flesh, my foes, my lufts prevail,
And work my daily woes.
When shall I fee that glorious fight
Will all my fins destroy?
That Lord of love, that lamp of light,
Will banish all annoy?
O could I but from finning cease,
And wait on Pisgah's hill,
Until I fee him face to face,
Then fhould my foul be ftill.
But fince corruption cleaves to me
While I in Kedar dwell;
O give me leave to long for thee,
For abfence is a hell.
Thy glory fhould be dear to me,
Who me fo dear haft bought :
O fave from rend'ring ill to thee
For good which thou haft wrought.
With fear I crave, with hope I cry,
• Oh promis'd favour fend;
Be thou thyfelf, though changeling L
Ungratefully offend.
Out of thy way remove the lets,
Cleanse this polluted den;
Tender my fuits, cancel my debts:
Sweet Jefus, fay Amen.
SECT. VI. The Song of Heaven defired by Saints on Earth.
AURORA Vails her rofy face
When brighter Phoebus takes her place ;
So glad will grace refign her room
To glory in the heav'nly home.
Happy the company that's gone
From crofs to crown, from thrall to throne ;
How loud they fing upon the fhore,
To which they fail'd in heart before !
Blefs'd are the dead, yea, faith the word,
That die in Christ the living Lord,
And on the other fide of death
Thus joyful fpend their praifing breath:
"Death from all death has fet us free,
"And will our gain for ever be;
"Death loos'd the maffy chain of wo,
"To let the mournful captives go.
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