But me, vile wretch! should pitying love embrace
Deep in its ocean, hell itself would blaze,
And flash, and burn me through the boundless seas.

Yea, Lord, my guilt, to such a vastness grown,
Seems to confine thy choice to wrath alone,
And calls thy power to vindicate thy throne.

Thine honour bids, Avenge thine injured Name,'
Thy slighted loves a dreadful glory claim,
While thy moist tears might but incense thy flame.

Should heaven grow black, Almighty thunder roar,
And vengeance blast me, I could plead no more,
But own thy justice dying, and adore.

Yet can those bolts of death that cleave the flood
To reach a rebel, pierce this sacred shroud,
Tinged in the vital stream of my Redeemer's blood.

THE PENITENT PARDONED.
HENCE from my soul, my sins depart,
Your fatal friendship now I see;
Long have you dwelt too near my heart,
Hence to eternal distance flee.

Ye gave my dying Lord his wound,
Yet I caress'd your viperous brood,
And in my heart-strings lapp'd you round,
You, the vile murderers of my God.

Black heavy thoughts, like mountains, roll
O'er my poor breast, with boding fears,
And crushing hard my tortured soul,
Wring through my eyes the briny tears.

Forgive my treasons, Prince of Grace,
The bloody Jews were traitors too,
Yet thou hast pray'd for that cursed race,
"Father, they know not what they do."

Great Advocate, look down and see
A wretch whose smarting sorrows bleed;
O plead the same excuse for me!
For, Lord, I knew not what I did.

Peace, my complaints; let every groan
Be still, and silence wait his love;
Compassions dwell amidst his throne,
And through his inmost bowels move.
Lo, from the everlasting skies,
Gently, as morning-dews distil,
The Dove immortal downward flies,
With peaceful olive in his bill.

How sweet the voice of pardon sounds!
Sweet the relief to deep distress!
I feel the balm that heals my wounds,
And all my powers adore the grace.

A HYMN OF PRAISE FOR THREE

GREAT SALVATIONS, viz.

1. From the Spanish Invasion, 1588.
2. From the Gun-powder Plot, Nov. 5th.

3. From Popery and Slavery by K. William of glorious memory, who landed, Nov. 5th, 1688.

COMPOSED, Nov. 5th, 1695.
INFINITE God, thy counsels stand
Like mountains of eternal brass,

Pillars to prop our sinking land,
Our guardian rocks to break the seas.

From pole to pole thy name is known,
Thee a whole heaven of angels praise;

Our labouring tongues would reach thy throne
With the loud triumphs of thy grace.

Part of thy church, by thy command,
Stands raised upon the British Isles;
"There," said the Lord, " to ages stand,
Firm as the everlasting hills."

In vain the Spanish ocean roar'd,
Its billows swell'd against our shore,
Its billows sunk beneath thy word,
With all the floating wars they bore.

"Come," said the sons of bloody Rome,
"Let us provide new arms from hell:""
And down they digg'd through earth's dark womb,
And ransack'd all the burning cell.

Old Satan lent them fiery stores,
Infernal coal, and sulphurous flame,
And all that burns, and all that roars,
Outrageous fires of dreadful name.

Beneath the Senate and the throne,
Engines of hellish thunder lay;
There the dark seeds of fire were sown,
To spring a bright, but dismal day.

Thy love beheld the black design,
Thy love that guards our island round;
S range! how it quench'd the fiery mine,
And crush'd the tempest under ground.

THE SECOND PART.

ASSUME, my tongue, a noble strain,
Sing the new wonders of the Lord:
The foes revive their powers again,
Again they die beneath his sword."

Dark as our thoughts our minutes roll,
While tyranny possess'd the throne,
And murderers, of an Irish soul,
And threat'ning death, through every town.

The Roman priest, and British prince,
Join'd their best force, and blackest charms,
And the fierce troops of neighbouring France
Offer'd the service of their arms.

"I is done, they cried, and laugh'd aloud,
The courts of darkness rang with joy,
Th' old Serpent hiss'd, and Hell grew proud,
While Zion mourn'd her ruin nigh.

But lo, the great Deliverer sails
Commission'd from Jehovah's hand,
And smiling seas, and wishing gales,
Convey him to the longing land.

The happy day, and happy year, Nov. 5th, 1688.
Both in our new salvation meet: S
The day that quench'd the burning snare, 2 Nov. 5,
The year that burnt the invading fleet.

Now did thine arm, O God of Hosts,
Now did thine arm shine dazzling bright,
The sons of might their hands had lost,
And men of blood forgot to fight.

Brigades of angels lined the way,
And guarded William to his throne;
There, ye celestial warriors, stay,
And make his palace like your own.

Then, mighty God, the earth shall know
And learn the worship of the sky:
Angels and Britons join below,
To raise their Hallelujahs high.

All Hallelujahs, heavenly King:
While distant lands thy victory sing,
And tongues their utmost powers employ,
The world's bright roof repeats the joy.

THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE.

FAR in the heavens my God retires,
My God, the mark of my desires,
And hides his lovely face;
When he descends within my view
He charms my reason to pursue,

1588.

But leaves it tired and fainting in th' unequal chase.

Or if I reach unusual height

Till near his presence brought,

There floods of glory check my flight,
Cramp the bold pinions of my wit,

And all untune my thought;

my soul.

Plunged in a sea of light I roll,

Where Wisdom, Justice, Mercy, shine ¡
Infinite rays in crossing lines

Beat thick confusion on my sight, and overwhelm

Come to my aid, ye fellow-minds,

And help me reach the throne;
(What single strength in vain designs,
United force hath done;

Thus worms may join, and grasp the poles,
Thus atoms fill the sea)

But the whole race of creature-souls

Stretch'd to their last extent of thought, plunge and are lost in thee.

Great God, behold my reason lies.
Adoring; yet my love would rise

On pinions not her own:

Faith shall direct her humble flight,
Through all the trackless seas of light,

To thee, th' Eternal Fair, the Infinite Unknown.

DEATH AND ETERNITY.

My thoughts that often mount the skies,
Go, search the world beneath,

Where nature all in ruin lies,

And owns her sovereign, Death.

The tyrant, how he triumphs here!
His trophies spread around!
And heaps of dust and bones appear
Through all the hollow ground.

These skulls, what ghastly figures now!
How loathsome to the eyes!
These are the heads we lately knew
So beauteous and so wise.

But where the souls, these deathless things,
That left this dying clay ?

My thoughts, now stretch out all your wings, And trace eternity.

O that unfathomable sea!

Those deeps without a shore!
Where living waters gently play,
Or fiery billows roar.

Thus must we leave the banks of life,
And try this doubtful sea;
Vain are our groans, and dying strife,
To gain a moment's stay,

There we shall swim in heavenly bliss,
Or sink in flaming waves,
While the pale carcase thoughtless lies,
Amongst the silent graves.

Some hearty friend shall drop his tear
On our dry bones, and say,

These once were strong, as mine appear,
And mine must be as they.'

Thus shall our mouldering members teach
What now our senses learn:
For dust and ashes loudest preach
Man's infinite concern.

A SIGHT OF HEAVEN IN SICKNESS,

Orr have I sat in secret sighs,
To feel my flesh decay,
Then groan'd aloud with frighted eyes,
To view the tottering clay.

But I forbid my sorrows now,
Nor dares the flesh complain;
Diseases bring their profit too;
The joy o'ercomes the pain.

My cheerful soul now all the day
Sits waiting here and sings;
Looks through the ruins of her clay,
And practises her wings.

Faith almost changes into sight,
While from afar she spies,
Her fair inheritance, in light
Above created skies.

Had but the prison walls been strong,
And firm without a flaw,

In darkness she had dwelt too long,
And less of glory saw.

But now the everlasting hills
Through every chink appear,
And something of the joy she feels,
While she's a prisoner here.

The shines of heaven rush sweetly in
At all the gaping flaws;
Visions of endless bliss are seen;
And native air she draws.

O may these walls stand tottering still,
The breaches never close,

If I must here in darkness dwell,
And all this glory lose!

O rather let this flesh decay,
The ruins wider grow,
"Till glad to see th' enlarged way,
I stretch my pinions through.

THE UNIVERSAL HALLELUJAH.
PSALM CXLVIII. PARAPHRASED.

PRAISE ye the Lord with joyful tongue,
Ye powers that guard his throne:
Jesus the Man shall lead the song,
The God inspire the tune.

Gabriel, and all th' immortal choir
That fill the realms above,
Sing; for he form'd you of his fire,
And feeds you with his love.

Shine to his praise, ye crystal skies,
The floor of his abode,

Or veil your little twinkling eyes
Before a brighter God.

Thou restless globe of golden light,
Whose beams create our days,
Join with the silver queen of night,
To own your borrow'd rays.

Blush and refund the honours paid
To your inferior names:

Tell the blind world, your orbs are fed
By his o'erflowing flames.

Winds, ye shall bear his name aloud
Through the ethereal blue,

For when his chariot is a cloud,
He makes his wheels of you.

Thunder and hail, and fires and storms,
The troops of his command,
Appear in all your dreadful forms,
And speak his awful hand.

Shout to the Lord, ye surging seas,
In your eternal roar;

Let wave to wave resound his praise,
And shore reply to shore;

While monsters sporting on the flood,
In scaly silver shine,
Speak terribly their Maker-God,
"And lash the foaming brine.

But gentler things shall tune his name,
To softer notes than these,
Young zephyrs breathing o'er the stream
Or whispering through the trees.

Wave your tall heads, ye lofty pines,
To him that bids you grow,
Sweet clusters, bend the fruitful vines
On every thankful bough.

Let the shrill birds his honour raise,
And climb the morning sky:

While grovelling beasts attempt his praise
In hoarser harmony.

Thus while the meaner creatures sing,
Ye mortals take the sound,

Echo the glories of your King, Through all the nations round.

Th' Eternal Name must fly abroad From Britain to Japan;

And the whole race shall bow to God That owns the name of Man.

THE ATHEIST'S MISTAKE. LAUGH, ye profane, and swell and burst With bold impiety:

Yet shall ye live for ever curs'd,
And seek in vain to die.

The gasp of your expiring breath
Consigns your souls to chains,
By the last agonies of death
Sent down to fiercer pains.

Ye stand upon a dreadful steep,
And all beneath is hell;

Your weighty guilt will sink you deep,
Where the old Serpent fell.

When iron slumbers bind your flesh,
With strange surprise you'll find
Immortal vigour spring afresh,

And tortures wake the mind!

Then you'll confess the frightful names
Of plagues you scorn'd before,
No more shall look like idle dreams,
Like foolish tales no more.

Then shall ye curse that fatal day,

(With flames upon your tongues) When you exchanged your souls away For vanity and songs.

Behold the saints rejoice to die,

For heaven shines round their heads; And angel-guards prepared to fly, Attend their fainting beds

Their longing spirits part, and rise
To their celestial seat;
Above these ruinable skies

They make their last retreat.

Hence, ye profane, I hate your ways,
I walk with pious souls;
There's a wide difference in our race,
And distant are our goals.

THE LAW GIVEN AT SINAI.
ARM thee with thunder, heavenly muse,
And keep the expecting world in awe;
Oft hast thou sung in gentler mood
The melting mercies of thy God;
Now give thy fiercest fires a loose,
And sound his dreadful law:
To Israel first the words were spoke,
To Israel freed from Egypt's yoke,
Inhuman bondage! The hard galling load
Over-press'd their feeble souls,

Bent their knees to senseless bulls,
And broke their ties to God.

Now had they pass'd the Arabian bay,

And march'd between the cleaving sea;

The rising waves stood guardians of their wonBut fell with most impetuous force

On the pursuing swarms,

And buried Egypt all in arms,

drous way,

Blending in watery death the rider and the horse: O'er struggling Pharaoh roll'd the mighty tide, And saved the labours of a pyramid.

Apis and Ore in vain he cries,

And all his horned gods beside,

He swallows fate with swimming eyes,
And cursed the Hebrews as he died.

Ah! foolish Israel to comply
With Memphian idolatry!

And bow to brutes (a stupid slave)

To idols impotent to save!

Behold thy God, the Sovereign of the sky, Has wrought salvation in the deep,

Has bound thy foes in iron sleep,

And raised thine honours high;
His grace forgives thy follies past,
Behold he comes in majesty,

And Sinai's top proclaims his law;
Prepare to meet thy God in haste;
But keep an awful distance still:
Let Moses round the sacred hill

The circling limits draw.

Hark! the shrill echoes of the trumpet roar,
And call the trembling armies near;
Slow and unwilling they appear,

Rails kept them from the mount before,

Now from the rails their fear:

'Twas the same herald, and the trump the same
Which shall be blown by high command,
Shall bid the wheels of nature stand,
And heaven's Eternal will proclaim,

That time shall be no more.

Thus while the labouring angel swell'd the sound, And rent the skies and shook the ground,

Up rose th' Almighty; round his sapphire seat Adoring thrones in order fell;

The lesser powers at distance dwell,

And cast their glories down successive at his feet: Gabriel the great prepares his way,

'Lift up your heads, eternal doors,' he cries;
Th' eternal doors his word obey,

Open and shoot celestial day
Upon the lower skies.

Heaven's mighty pillars bow'd their head,

As their Creator bid,

And down Jehovah rode from the superior sphere,
A thousand guards before, and myriads in the rear.

His chariot was a pitchy cloud,
The wheels beset with burning gems;
The winds in harness with the flames

Flew o'er th' ethereal road:
Down through his magazines he past
Of hail and ice, and fleecy snow,
Swift roll'd the triumph, and as fast
Did hail, and ice, in melted rivers flow,
The day was mingled with the night,
His feet on solid darkness trod,

His radiant eyes proclaim'd the God,
And scatter'd dreadful light;

He breath'd, and sulphur ran, a fiery stream:
He spoke, and (though with unknown speed he

came)

Chid the slow tempest, and the lagging flame.

Sinai received his glorious flight, With axle red, and glowing wheel

Did the wing'd chariot light,

And rising smoke obscured the burning hill.
Lo, it mounts in curling waves,

Lo, the gloomy pride out-braves
The stately pyramids of fire,
The pyramids to heaven aspire,

[higher,

And mix with stars, but see their gloomy offspring
So you have seen ungrateful ivy grow
Round the tall oak that sixscore years had stood,

And proudly shoot a leaf or two
Above its kind supporters utmost bough,

And glory there to stand the loftiest of the wood.

Forbear, young muse, forbear;

The flowery things that poets say,

The little arts of simile

Are vain and useless here;

Nor shall the burning hills of old
With Sinai be compared,

Nor all that lying Greece has told,
Or learned Rome has heard;
Etna shall be named no more,
Etna the torch of Sicily;

Not half so high

Her lightnings fly,

Not half so loud her thunders roar

Cross the Sicanian sea to fright the Italian shore. Behold the sacred hill: Its trembling spire

Quakes at the terrors of the fire,

While all below its verdant feet

Stagger and reel under th' Almighty weight:
Press'd with a greater than feign'd Atlas' load
Deep groan'd the mount; it never bore
Infinity before,

It bow'd, and shook beneath the burden of a God.

Fresh horror seized the camp, despair, And dying groans torment the air, And shrieks, and swoons, and deaths were there; The bellowing thunder, and the lightning's blaze Spread through the host a wild amaze; Darkness on every soul, and pale was every face: Confused and dismal were the cries, Let Moses speak, or Israel dies: Moses the spreading terror feels, No more the man of God conceals His shivering and surprise:

Yet, with recovering mind, commands [bands, Silence, and deep attention, through the Hebrew

Hark! from the centre of the flame,
All arm'd and feather'd with the same,
Majestic sounds break through the smoky cloud :
Sent from the All-creating Tongue,

A flight of cherubs guard the words along,
And bear their fiery law to the retreating crowd.
'I am the Lord: 'Tis I proclaim,
That glorious and fearful Name,

Thy God and King: Tis I, that broke
Thy bondage, and th' Egyptian yoke ;
Mine is the right to speak my will,
And thine the duty to fulfil.

Adore no God beside Me, to provoke mine eyes;
Ner worship Me in shapes and forms that men
devise;
[to jest;
With reverence use my name, nor turn my words
Observe my Sabbath well, nor dare profane my

rest;

Honour, and due obedience to thy parents give: Nor spill the guiltless blood, nor let the guilty live: Preserve thy body chaste, and flee th' unlawful bed; [his bread;

Nor steal thy neighbour's gold, his garment, or Forbear to blast his name with falsehood or deceit; Nor let thy wishes loose upon his large estate.'

REMEMBER YOUR CREATOR, &c.
ECCL. XII.

CHILDREN, to your Creator, God,
Your early honours pay,
While vanity and youthful blood
Would tempt your thoughts astray.

The memory of his mighty name,
Demands your first regard;
Nor dare indulge a meaner flame,
"Till you have loved the Lord.

Be wise, and make his favour sure,

Before the mournful days,

When youth and mirth are known no more, And life and strength decays.

No more the blessings of a feast

Shall relish on the tongue,

. The heavy ear forgets the taste And pleasure of a song.

Old age, with all her dismal train,
Invades your golden years

With sighs and groans, and raging pain,
And death that never spares.

What will ye do when light departs,
And leaves your withering eyes,
Without one beam to cheer your hearts,
From the superior skies?

How will you meet God's frowning brow,
Or stand before his seat,
While nature's old supporters bow,
Nor bear their tottering weight?

Can you expect your feeble arms

Shall make a strong defence,
When death, with terrible alarms,
Summons the prisoner hence?

The silver bands of nature burst,
And let the building fall;

The flesh goes down to mix with dust,
Its vile original.

Laden with guilt, a heavy load!
Uncleansed and unforgiven,

The soul returns t' an angry God, To be shut out from heaven.

SUN, MOON, AND STARS, PRAISE YE THE LORD.

FAIREST of all the lights above,

Thou Sun, whose beams adorn the spheres,
And with unwearied swiftness move,
To form the circles of our years;

Praise the Creator of the skies,
That dress'd thine orb in golden rays:
Or may the sun forget to rise,
If he forget his Maker's praise.

Thou reigning beauty of the night,
Fair queen of silence, silver Moon,
Whose gentle beams, and borrow'd light,
Are softer rivals of the noon;

Arise, and to that sovereign Power
Waxing and waning honours pay,
Who bids hee rule the dusky hour,
And half supply the absent day.

Ye twinkling Stars, who gild the skies,
When darkness has its curtains drawn,
Who keep your watch, with wakeful eyes,
When business, cares, and day are gone:

Proclaim the glories of your Lord,
Dispersed through all the heavenly street,
Whose boundless treasures can afford
So rich a pavement for his feet.

Thou heaven of heavens, supremely bright,
Fair palace of the court Divine,
Where, with inimitable light,

The Godhead condescends to shine.

Praise thou thy great Inhabitant,
Who scatters lovely beams of grace
On every angel, every saint,
Nor veils the lustre of his face.

O God of glory, God of love,

Thou art the sun that makes our days:
With all thy shining works above,
Let earth and dust attempt thy prais

THE WELCOME MESSENGER.
LORD, when we see a saint of thine
Lie gasping for his breath,
With longing eyes, and looks divine,
Smiling and pleased in death;

How we could e'en contend to lay
Our limbs upon that bed!
We ask thine envoy to convey
Our spirits in his stead.

Our souls are rising on the wing,
To venture in his place;
For when grim death has lost his sting,
He has an angel's face.

Jesus, then purge my crimes away,

"Tis guilt creates my fears;
"Tis guilt gives death his fierce array,
And all the arms it bears.

Oh! if my threatening sins were gone,
And death had lost his sting,
I could invite the angel on,
And chide his lazy wing.

Away these interposing days,
And let the lovers meet;
The angel has a cold embrace,
But kind, and soft, and sweet.

I'd leap at once my seventy years,
I'd rush into his arms,
And lose my breath, and all my cares
Amidst those heavenly charms.

Joyful I'd lay this body down,

And leave the lifeless clay, Without a sigh, without a groan, And stretch and soar away.

SINCERE PRAISE.

ALMIGHTY Maker, God!
How wondrous is thy name!
Thy glories how diffused abroad
Through the creation's frame!

Nature in every dress,

Her humble homage pays,
And finds a thousand ways t' express
Thine undissembled praise.

In native white and red
The rose and lily stand,

And free from pride, their beauties spread,
To show thy skilful hand.

The lark mounts up the sky,
With unambitious song,

And bears her Maker's praise on high
Upon her artless tongue.

My soul would rise and sing
To her Creator too;

Fain would my tongue adore my King,
And pay the worship due.

But pride, that busy sin,
Spoils all that I perform;

Cursed pride, that creeps securely in,
And swells a haughty worm.

Thy glories I abate,
Or praise thee with design;
Some of thy favours I forget,
Or think the merit mine.

The very songs I frame,
Are faithless to thy cause,

And steal the honours of thy name
To build their own applause.

Create my soul anew,

Else all my worship's vain;

This wretched heart will ne'er be true,
Until 'tis form'd again.

Descend, celestial fire,
And seize me from above,
Melt me in flames of pure desire,
A sacrifice to love.

Let joy and worship spend The remnant of my days, And to my God, my soul, ascend, In sweet perfumes of praise.

TRUE LEARNING.

Partly Imitated from a French Sonnet of Mr. Poiret.

HAPPY the feet that shining Truth has led
With her own hand to tread the path she please,
To see her native lustre round her spread,
Without a veil, without a shade,

All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is.

Our senses cheat us with the pressing crowds
Of painted shapes they thrust upon the mind:
The truth they show lies wrapt in sevenfold
Our senses cast a thousand clouds [shrouds,
On unenlighten'd souls, and leave them doubly
blind.

I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise,
And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought:
What empty triflings, and what subtle ways,
To fence and guard by rule and rote!

Our God will never charge us, That we know them

not.

Without his aid I have no sure defence,
From troops of errors that besiege me round;
But he that rests his reason and his sense

Fast here, and never wanders hence,
Unmoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground.

Infinite Truth, the life of my desires,
Come from the sky, and join thyself to me;
I'm tired with hearing, and this reading tires;
But never tired of telling Thee,

'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see.

Speak to my soul, alone, no other hand
Shall mark my path out with delusive art:
All nature silent in his presence stand,
Creatures be dumb at his command,

And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart.

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire,
Away from sense and every outward show:
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes aspire,

My knowledge now on wheels of fire

May mount and spread above, surveying all below

The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light,
And pours whole floods on such a mind as this:
Fled from the eyes she gains a piercing sight,
She dives into the Infinite,

And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss.