HYMN CCCXLIV.

THEY err who count it glorious to fubdue By conquest far and wide, to over-run Large countries, and in field great battles win, Great cities by affault: what do these worthies But rob and fpoil, burn, flaughter, and inslave Peaceable nations, neighb'ring, or remote, Made captive, yet deferving freedom more Than those their conquerors, who leave behind Nothing but ruin wherefoever they rove, And all the flourishing works of peace deftroy, Then fwell with pride, and must be titled gods, Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers, Till conqu'ror death discover them scarce men, Rolling in brutish vices, and deform'd, Violent or fhameful death their due reward.

IF

HYMN CCCXLV.

F there be in Glory ought of Good, It may by Means far diffi'rent be attain'd Without Ambition, War, or Violence; By Deeds of Peace, by Wisdom eminent, By Patience, Temp'rance, Fortitude of Soul. Who names not now with Honour patient Job, And righteous Enoch, Lot, and perfect Noah? Poor Socrates (who next more memorable?) By what he taught and fuffer'd for to doing,

For

For Truth's Sake fuff'ring Death unjust, lives

now

Equal in Fame to proudest Conquerors.

HYMN CCCXLVI.

WHE
HAT ifGod hath decreed that I shall now
Betry'd inhumblestate, and things adverse,
By tribulations, injuries, infults,

Contempts, and fcorns, and fnares,and violence,
Suffering, abftaining, quietly expecting,
Without diftruft or doubt, that he may know
What I can fuffer, how obey? who best
Can fuffer, beft can do; best reign, who first
Well hath obey'd; just trial ere I obtain
My exaltation without change or end.

HYMN CCCXLVII.

LONG night will over all its darkness spread,
And all muft range the regions of the dead.
The old and young in heaps together lie,
And from the ftroke of death there's none can
fly.

HYMN

CCCXLVIII.

OR Rich, or Poor, by whom begat,
Or King, or Begger, matters no::

Nor

Nor Birth, nor Wealth, nor ought can fave
Man from the unrelenting Grave.

Our Lots are in the Urn of Fate,

And out they come, or foon, or late;
Then pass we to that filent Shore,

From whence there's no Returning more.

HYMN

CCCXLIX.

WHAT e'er thy eyes behold is dead, or dying:

The nights,the days,pass on, and are no more:
'The ftars of heav'n decay: nor aught avail
Earth's firm foundations:theymuft perifh too,
And all its mighty fabrick be diffolv'd.
And can we then lament that man must die,
And perish all his mortal fleeting race?
War cuts off part, and part the feas o'erwhelm:
These lucklefs love swift to destruction brings:
These rage; and thefe unfatisfy'd defire:
Omitting all diftemper's dreadful train,
Some winter's penetrating rigour kills,
Others the baneful fummer's fultry ray,
And others fickly autumn's chilling fhowers.
What had beginning muft expect an end,
All, all muft die; all to the Grave must go.

HYMN CCCL.

RESIST at firft: for help in vain we pray, When fin has gain'd full ftrength by long

delay..

Be