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Self in myself I hate,
That's matter of my groan; Nor can I rid me from the mate
That causes me to moan.
Soon trapt in ev'ry gin;
Plung’d in the gulph of fin.
My Lord's most bloody foe? I feel its pow'rful fway within ;
How long shall it be fo? How long, Lord, shall I say?
How long in Mesech here? Dishon’ring thee from day to day,
Whose name's to me so dear?
And makes me sadly pine ;
Till beanis of glory thine!
COMPLAINT of Sin, Sorrow, and want of Love. IF F black doom by defert should go,
Then, Lord, my due delert is death; Which robs froin fouls immortal joy,
And from their b dies mortal breath. But in fo great a Saviour,
Can e'er fo bale a worm's annoy
Or any gladness to thy joy?
And everlasting flames of fire ;
Can never fure be worth tbine ire. Since Jesus the atonement was,
Let tender mercy me release; Let him be umpire of my cause,
And pass the gladsome doom of peace,
Let grace forgive, and love forget
My bafe, my vile apostacy; And temper thy deserved hate
With love and mercy toward me. The rufling winds and raging blasts
Hold me in constant cruel chace; They break my anchors, fails and masts,
Allowing no reposing place. The boist'rous feas with swelling floods,
On ev'ry fide against me fight. Heav'n, overcast with stormy clouds,
Dims all the planet's guiding light. The hellish furies ly in wait
To win my soul into their pow'r; To make me bite at ev'ry bait,
And thus my killing bane devour: I lie inchain'd in fin and thrall,
Next border unto black despair; Till grace restore, and of my fall
The doleful ruins all repair. My hov'ring thoughts would fee to glore,
And nestle safe above the sky;
At that sure anchor quiet lie.
With heavy poise of corrupt load;
An harbour of secure abode. To drown the wight that wakes the blast,
Thy fin-subduing grace afford ; The storm might ceafe, could I but caft
This troublous Jonah over-board. Bafe fcíh, with fleshly pleasures gain’d,
Sweet grace's kindly fuit declines; When mercy courts me for its friend,
Anon my fordid Aeth repines. Soar up, my foul, to Tabor hill,
, Cast off this loathsome presling load; Long is the date of thine exile, While absent from the Lord, tlay God.
Dote not on earthy weeds and toys,
· Which do nut, cannut tuit thy taste: The fluw’rs of everlafling joys
Grow up apace for thy repast. Sith that the glorious God above
In Jelus bears a love to thee;
Of any being lets than he?
Content in love to live and die:
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?
His love does thine fo hot pursue ;
Thy mite a thousand-fold is due.
Young little dawn of endless day:
and fin.fubduing presence. K!
IND Jelus, come in love to me,
And make no longer stay; Or else receive my soul to thee,
That breathes to be away.
As well it me becomes,
O grant a dog the crumbs.
Thy needful help infure:
My rags, that I am poor.
Thou many at thy door dost feed,
With mercy when distreft ;
To me among the rest.
None else can cale my moan,
All other joys be gone.
How can I be at rest?
To want my noble guest.
Cease not on any terms,
My Lord within my arms.
When hiding off he goes;
And work my daily woes.
Will all my sins deliroy?
Will banith all annsy!
And wait on Pifgah's hill,
Then thould my ful be ftill.
While I in Kedar dwell;
For ablence is a hell,
Who me so dear has bought:
Før goud which thou hast wrought.
Oh promis'd favour send !
Out of the way remove the lets,
Cleanse this polluted den;
Sweet Jefus, say, Ameň.
SECT. VI. Tbe Song of Heaven desired by Saints on Earsi. AURORA vails her rofy face,
When brighter Phæbus takes her place; So glad will grace resign her room To glory in the heav'nly home. Happy the company that's gone From cross to crown, from thrall to throne; How loud they fing upon the shore, To which they fail'd in heart before ! Bless'd are the dead, yea, faith the word, That die in Christ the living Lord, And on the other side of death Thus joyful spend their praising breath: " Death from all death hath set us free, « And will our gain for ever be; " Death loos'd the maliy chains of woe, • To let the mournful captives go. • Death is to us a sweet repose; “ The bud was op'd to shew the rose; “ The cage was broke to let us fly, “ And build our happy nest on high. " Lo! here we do triumphant reign, " And joyful sing in lofty strain, “ Lo! here we rest, and love to be, “ Enjoying more than faith could see, " The thousandth part we now behold, “ By mortal tongues was never told; “ We got a taste, but now above “ We forage in the fields of love. « Faith once stole down a distant kiss; “ Now love cleaves to the cheek of bliss ;
Beyond the fears of more mifhap * We gladly rest in glory's lap.