And God in Christ is all my trust,
Because he's merciful and just. i

CONCLUSION.
ERE is the Riddle, where's the man

Of judgment, to expound ?
For masters fain'd that cannot scan,

In Ifrael may be found. 2 We justly those in wisdom's list

Establish'd saints may call,
Whose bitter-sweet experience blest

Can clearly grasp it all. 3
Some babes in grace may mint and mar,

Yet aiming right succeed : 4
But strangers they in Isr’el are,

Who not at all can read. 5 (viz. David my servant): and in my name shall his horn be exalted. Ver. 28: My mercy will I keep for him for evermore, and my covenant shall stand falt with him.

PART IV.

The BELIEVER'S LODGING and INN,

While on Earth : or,

A POEM AND PARAPHRASE ON Psalm lxxxiv.

Ver. 1. How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of bofos!

Ghost, Sole Monarch of the universal hoft, Whom the attendant armies still revere, Which in bright robes surround the higher sphere; Whose fov'reign empire fways the hellish band Of ranked legions in th’infernal land; Who hold'st the earth at thy unrivallid beck, And stay'lt proud forces with a humble check; Ev’n thou whose name commands an awful dread, Yet deign's to dwell with man in very deed : ( what refreshment fills the dwelling-place Of thine exuberant unbounded grace! Which with sweet pow'r does joy and praise extort, In Zion's tents, thine ever-loy'd refort: Where glad’ning streams of mercy from above Make souls brim-full of warm seraphic love. Of sweetest odours all thy garments smells ; Thy dismal absence proves a thousand hells, But heav'ns of joy are where thine hon ur dwells. Ver. 2. My soul longetb, yea, even fainteth for the courts

of ibe Lord: my bears and my flejo crietb out for

the living God.
Therefore on thee I centre my desire,
Which veh'mently bursts out in ardent fire.
Deprived, ah! I languish in my plaint,
My bones are feeble, and my spirits faint.

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My longing foul pants to behold again
Thy temple fill'd with thy majenic train ;
Those palaces with heav'nly od ur strew'd,
And regal courts, where Ziun's King is view'd :
To see the beauty of the highest One,
Upon his holy mount, his lotty throne :
Whence virtue running from the living-Head
Restores the dying, and revives the dead.
For him my heart with cries repeated founds,
To which my fesh with echoes loud rebounds ;
For him, for him, who life in death can give,
For him, for him, whofe fole prorogative
Is from and to eternity to live.

Ver. 3. Yea, the Sparrow batb found an bouse, and tbe

Swallow a nefi for berself, where she may lay ber young, even tbine oltars, O Lord of bofts, my King and my God.

Alas! how from thy lovely dwellings I,
Long banish'd, do the happy birds envy ;
Which, chusing thy high altars for their nest,
On rafters of thy tabernacle reli!
Here dwells the sparrow of a chirping tongue,
And here the swallow lays her tender young :
Faint facrilege! they seize the sacred spot,
And seem to glory o'er my absent lut.
Yet sure I have more special right to thee
Than all the brutal holis of earth and sea ;
That Sov'reign, at whose government they bow,
Is wholly mine by his eternal vow;
My King to rule my heart, and quell my foes,
My God t extract my well from present woes,
And crown with endless glory at the close.
Ver. 4. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house : tbey

will be still praising thee.
O happy they that haunt thy house below,
And to thy royal fanctuary flow;
Not for itself, but for the glorious One,
Who there inhabits his erected throne
Others pass by, but here their dwelling is;
O happy people, crown'd with bays of bliss !

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Bless'd with the splendid lustre of his face,
Bless'd with the high melodious found of grace,
That wakens fouls into a sweet amaze,
And turns their spirits to a harp of praise ;
Which loudly makes the lower temple ring
With Hallelujahs to the miglity King:
And thus they antedate the nobler fong
Of that celestial and triumphant throng
Who warble notes of praise eternity along.
Ver. 5. Blessed is the man whose firengib is in thee:--

What weights of bliss their happy shoulders load,
Whose strength lies treasur’d in a potent God?
Self-drained fouls, yet flowing to the brin,
Because void in themselves, but full in him.
Adam the first discuss’d their stock of strength,
The second well retriey'd the sum at length;
Who keeps 't himself, a surer hand indeed,
To give not as they list, but as they need.
When raging furies threaten fudden harms,
He then extends his everlasting arms;
When Satan drives his pointed fiery darts,
He gives them courage and undaunted hearts,
To quell his deadly force with divine skill,
And adds new strength to do their Sov'reign's will :
When fore barafs'd by fome outragious luft,
He levelling its pow'r unto the dust,
Makes saints to own him worthy of their truft.
Ver. 6. In whose bearts are the ways of them. Wbe

paling brough the valley of Baca, make it a well :
ibe rain also filleth'ibe pools.

Such heav'n born fouls are not to earth 'd,
Truth's high-way fills their elevated mind :
They bound for Zion, press with forward aim,
As Ifr’el's males to old Jerusalem.
Their holy path lies through a parched land,
Through oppositions numerous and grand.

Traverling scorched desarts, ragged rocks,
And Baca’s wither'd vale, like thirsty flocks;
Yet with unshaken vigour homeward go,
Not moy'd by all opposing harms below,

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They digging wells on this Gilboa' top,

The vale of Achor yields a door of hope :
For heav'n in plenty does their labour crown,
By making silver show'rs to trickle down ;
Till empty pools imbibe a pleasant fill,
And weary souls are heart'ned up the hill,
By mally drops of joy which down distill. .
Ver. 7. Tbey go from strength to strength, every one

of them in Zion appeareth before God.
Thus they, refreshed by superior aid,
Are not defatigated nor disınay'd;
Because they are, O truth of awful dread!
As potent as Jehovan in their Head.
Hence they hall travel with triumphant minds,
In spite of ragged paths and built'rous winds.
The roughest ways their vigour ne'er abates,
Each new assault their strength redintegrates.
When they through mortal blows seem to give o'er,
Their strength by intermitting gathers more.
And thus they, with unweary'd zeal endu'd,
Still as they journey have their strength renew'd.
So glorious is the race, that once begun,
Each one contends his fellow to out-run;
Till at uniting in a glorious band,
Before the Lamb's high throne adoring stand,
And harp his lofty praise in Zion-land.
Ver. 8, O Lord God of bofts, bear my prayer: give ear,

O God of Jacob.
Great God of num'rous hofts, who reigns alone
The sole pofiessor of th' imperial throne;
Since mental tastes of thy delicious grace
So sweetly relish in thy holy place,
This is the subject of my tabled pray’r,
To have the vision of thy glory there.
O let my cry pierce the etherial frame,
And mercy's echo follow down the same,
Omniscient Being, favour my desire,
Hide not thy goodness in paternal ire :
Why, thou hast giv’n in an eternal band
To Jacob and his feed thy royal hand,

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