While Truth, convey'd in fimplest Sounds,
The Rage of impious Wit confounds.

Yes, Lord! When thro' the starry Height,

Thy Work, I fend my ravish'd Sight;
When I the filver Moon behold,

And sparkling Worlds of burnish'd Gold,
(Bleft Manfions, where for ever shine
Angelic Natures, Forms divine:)

O! What is Man? What's all his Race,
Once in thy Thoughts to find a Place?
How could thy Greatness condefcend
To make this filly Worm thy Friend?
Him haft thou fo far deign'd to crown
With God-like Honours, high Renown,
Thou mak'ft him, tho' more frail, to Vie
With Cherubs felves in Dignity.

For him thy Love did first create

This fpacious World to ferve his State;

;

Here rais'd this Earth to be his Throne,
And bad his Pow'r each Creature own.
The fleecy Kind the Mountains feed;
The lowing Herds that graze the Mead
The Beasts, the Birds, the finny Prey,
Thro' Streams, or Seas that cut their way;
What Earth and Air, and what the Main,
In all their ample Stores contain;
All, all on Man thou haft bestow'd,
And thus thy Love, thy Bounty fhow'd.
O God! How glorious is thy Name!
Thy Praise Heav'n's highest Orbs proclaim,
And distant Earth refounds the fame.

On

On the Paffion of our Saviour.

I.

ROM whence these dire Portents around,

FRO

That Earth and Heav'n amaze?

Wherefore do Earthquakes cleave the Ground? Why hides the Sun his Rays?

II.

Not thus did Sinai's trembling Head
With facred Horrour nod,

Beneath the dark Pavilion spread
Of Legislative God!

III.

Thou Earth, thy lowest Centre fhake,

With Jefu fympathize!

Thou Sun, as Hell's deep Gloom be black,

'Tis thy Creator dies!

IV.

What Tongue the Tortures can declare

Of this vindictive Hour?

Wrath He alone had Will to share,

As He alone had Pow'r !

V.

See ftreaming from th' accurfed Tree

His all-attoning Blood!

Is this the Infinite? "Tis He!

My Saviour and my God!
VI.

For me these Pangs his Soul affail,
For me the Death is born!

My Sin gave Sharpness to the Nail,
And pointed ev'ry Thorn!

VII.

Let Sin no more my Soul enflave;
Break, Lord, the Tyrant's Chain!

Oh, fave me whom Thou cam'ft to fave,

Nor bleed nor die in vain.

Part

Part of the xlvith PSALM Paraphras'd.

I.

N God fupreme our Hope depends,
Whose omnipresent Sight

Ev'n to the pathlefs Realms extends

Of uncreated Night.

II.

Plung'd in th' Abyss of deep Distress,
To Him we raise our Cry:

His Mercy bids our Sorrows cease,
And fills our Tongue with Joy!

III.

Tho' Earth her antient Seat forfake,

By Pangs convulfive torn;

Tho' her felf-balanc'd Fabrick shake,

And ruin'd Nature mourn:

IV. Tho