With liquid gold of precious blood
Thy Husband bought his bride.
His blood abundant value bore,
To make his purchase broad,
'Twas fair divinity in gore,
Thy Husband is thy God.
Who purchas'd at the highest price,
- Be crown'd with higheft praise;
For in the highest paradise
Thy Husband wears the bays.
He is of Heav'n the comely rofe,
His beauty makes it fair;
Heav'n were but hell, couldst thou fuppofe
Thy Husband were not there.
He thither did in pomp afcend,
His fpoufe along to bring:
That Hallelujah's without end,
Thy Husband's bride may fing.
Ev'n there with him for ever fix'd
His glory fhalt thou fee;
And nought but death is now betwixt
Thy Husband's throne and thee.
He'll order death that porter rude,
To ope the gates of brass;
For, lo! with characters of blood
Thy Husband wrote thy pass.
At Jordan deep then be not fcar'd,
Though difmal like and broad;
Thy fun will guide, thy fhield will guard,
Thy Husband pav'd the road.
He'll lead thee fafe, and bring thee home,
And still let bleffings fall
Of grace while here, till glory come:
Thy Husband's bound for all.
His ftore can answer ev'ry bill,
Thy food and raiment's bought;
Be at his will, thou'lt have thy fill,
Thy Husband wants for nought.
What can thy foul conceive it lacks?
His ftore, his pow'r is thine;
His lib'ral heart to lib'ral acts,
Thy Husband does incline.
Though on thy hand, that has no might,
He should thy task enlarge;
Nor work nor warfare needs thee fright,
Thy Husband bears the charge.
Thou wouldst (if left) thyfelf undo,
So apt to fall and ftray;
But he uplifts and leads thee to:
Thy Husband knows the way.
Comfort to Believers from the text, Thy Maker is thy Husband, inverted thus, Thy Husband is thy Maker; and the conclufion of this Jubject.
F light and life, of grace and glore,
In Chrift thou art partaker;
Rejoice in him for everinore,
Thy Hufband is thy Maker.
He made thee, yea, made thee his bride,
Nor heeds thine ugly patch;
To what he made he'll ftill abide,
Thy Husband made the match.
He made all; yea, he made all thine
All to thee fhall be giv'n:
Who can thy kingdom undermine ?
Thy Husband made the heav'n.
What earthly thing can thee annoy?
He made the earth to be;
The waters cannot thee deftroy,
Thy Husband made the fea.
Don't fear the flaming element
Thee hurt with burning ire;
Or that the scorching heat torment:
Thy Husband made the fire.
Infectious ftreams fhall ne'er destroy,
While he is pleas'd to fpare;
Thou shalt thy vital breath enjoy.
Thy Husband made the air.
The fun that guides the golden day,
The moon that rules the night,
The ftarry frame, the milky way,
Thy Husband made for light.
The bird that wings its airy path,
The fifh that cuts the flood,
The creeping croud that fwarms beneath
Thy Husband made for good.
The grazing herd, the beasts of
The creatures great and fmall,
For thy behoof their tribute pay,
Thy Husband made them all.
Thine's Paul, Apollos, life, and death,
Things prefent, things to be;
And ev'ry thing that being hath,
Thy Husband made for thee.
In Tophet of the damn'd's resort
Thy foul fhall never dwell,
Nor needs from thence imagine hurt,-
Thy Hufband formed hell.
Satan, with inftruments of his,
May rage, yet dread no evil;
So far as he a creature is,
Thy Hufband made the devil.
His black temptations may afflict,
His fiery darts annoy;
But all his works, and hellish trick,
Thy Hufband will deftroy.
Let armies ftrong of earthly gods,
Combine with hellish ghosts,
They live, or languifh, at his nods;
Thy Husband's Lord of hofts.
What can thee hurt? whom doft thou fear?
All things are at his call.
Thy Maker is thy Husband dear,
Thy Husband all in all.
What doft thou feek? what doft thou want?
He'll thy defires fulfil?
He gave himself, what won't he grant?
Thy Husband's at thy will.
The more thou doft of him defire,
The more he loves to give:
High let thy mounting arms afpire,
Thy Husband gives thee leave.
The lefs thou feck'ft, the lefs thou doft
His bounty fet on high;
But higheft feekers here do moft
Thy Husband glorify.
Wouldft thou have grace? Well, but 'tis meet He fhould more glory gain.
Wouldft thou have Father, Son, and Sp'rit?
Thy Hufband fays, Amen.
He'll kindly act the lib'ral God,
Devifing lib'ral things;
With royal gifts his fubjects lead;
Thy Husband's King of kings.
No earthly monarchs have fuch ftore
As thou haft ev'n in hand;
how infinitely more
Thy Husband gives on band! Thou haft indeed the better part, The part will fail thee never:
Thy Husband's hand, thy Husband's heart, Thy Husband's all for ever.
The END of the POEM upon Ifa. liv, 5
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