Prefumptuous thought! to fix the bound,
To limit mercy's fov'reign reign;
What other happy fouls have found,
I'll feek, nor fhall I feek in vain.
I own my guilt, thy charge confefs,
Nor can thy malice make it more;
Of crimes already numberless,
Vain the attempt to fwell the score.
Set the black lift before my fight ;-
While I remember Jefus dy'd,
"Twill only urge my speedier flight
To feek falvation at his fide.
Low at his feet I'll caft me down,
To him reveal my guilt and fear;
And, if he fpurns me from his throne,
I'll be the first who perish'd there.
THAT are poffeffions, fame, and pow'r,
The boafted fplendor of the great?
What gold, which dazzl'd eyes adore,
And feek with endless toils and sweat?
Express their charms, declare their use,
That we their merit may defcry;
Tell us what good they can produce,
Or what important want fupply?
NATHER, before we hence depart,
Send thy good Spirit down:
Let him refide in ev'ry heart,
And bless the feed that's fown.
Thou Fountain of Eternal Love,
Who gav'ft thy Son to die;
Let thy fweet Unction, from above,
Enlighten and apply.
The convinced Sinner encouraged.
7HO is the trembling finner, who That owns eternal death his due? Who mourns his fin, his guilt, his thrall, And does on God for mercy call? Peace, troubled foul, difmifs thy fear, Hear, Jefus fpeaks, be of good cheer, Upon his grace and work rely, And thou shalt never, never die.
325... L. M. WATTS'S H.
Michael's War with the Dragon.
ET mortal tongues attempt to fing
The wars of heav'n when Michael stood
Chief gen'ral of the Eternal King,
And fought the battles of our God.
Against the dragon and his hoft
The armies of the Lord prevail :
In vain they rage, in vain they boast;
Their courage finks, their weapons fail.
Down to the earth was fatan thrown;
Down to the pit his legions fell;
Then was the trump of triumph blown,
And thook the dreadful deeps of hell.
Now is the hour of darkness past,
Chrift has affum'd his reigning pow'r ; Behold the great accuser caft
Down from the skies, to rife no more.
'Twas by thy blood, immortal Lamb! Thine armies trod the tempter down; 'Twas by thy word, and pow'rful name, They gain'd the battle and renown.
Rejoice, ye heav'ns; let ev'ry star
Shine with new glories round the sky:
Saints, while ye fing the heav'nly war,
Raise your deliv'rer's name on high.
Victory over Satan by the Blood of the Lamb.
EE the old dragon from his throne
Sink with enormous ruin down! Banish'd from heav'n, and doom'd to dwell Deep in the fiery gloom of hel!!
Ye heav'ns, with all your hofts, rejoice :
Ye faints, in concert lend your voice: -
Approach your Lord's victorious feat,
And tread the foe beneath your feet:
But whence a conqueft fo divine
Gain'd by fuch feeble hands as mine?
Or whence can finful mortals boast
O'er fatan and his rebel-hoft?
'Twas from thy blood, thou flaughter'd Lamb,
That all our palms and triumphs came;
Thy crofs, thy fpear, inflicts the ftroke,
By which the monster's head is broke.
Thy faithful word our hope maintains
Thro' all our combat and our pains;
The accents of thy heav'nly breath
Thy foldiers bear thro' wounds and death.
Triumphant-Lamb, in worlds unknown,
With transport round thy radiant throne,
Thy happy legions, all complete,
Shall lay their laurels at thy feet.
Satan Repulfed.
IS falfe thou vile accufer, go,
Tffee thro' all the thin difguife
Back, to thy native realms below,
Thou parent of deceit and lies!
Think not to drive my trembling foul,
Laden with guilt, to black defpair;
Haft thou furvey'd the facred roll,
And found my name not written there?
Prefumptuous thought! to fix the bound,
To limit mercy's fov'reign reign;
What other happy fouls have found,
I'll feek, nor fhall I seek in vain.
I own my guilt, thy charge confefs,
Nor can thy malice make it more;
Of crimes already numberless,
Vain the attempt to fwell the fcore.
Set the black lift before my fight ;-
While I remember Jefus dy'd,
"Twill only urge my speedier flight
To feek falvation at his fide.
Low at his feet I'll caft me down,
To him reveal my guilt and fear
And, if he fpurns me from his throne,
I'll be the first who perish'd there.
THAT are poffeffions, fame, and pow'r,
The boafted fplendor of the great?
What gold, which dazzl'd eyes adore,
And feek with endless toils and sweat ?
Express their charms, declare their use,
That we their merit may descry;
Tell us what good they can produce,
Or what important want fupply?
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