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Dialogue-Anthem.

Chriftian.

Death.
LAS, poor Death! where is thy glory?

Chr. A fting ?

Dea. Alas, poor mortal, void of story!

Go Spell and read how I have kill'd thy King. Chr. Poor Death! and who was hurt thereby ?

Thy curse being laid on him makes thee accurft.
Dea. Let losers talk. yet thou shalt die ;

These arms shall crush thee. Chr. Spare not, do thy work.
I shall be one day better than before :
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

The Water Course.

'HOU who doft dwell and linger' here below,

Where of all plants affli&ion soonest grow :
If troubles overtake thee, do not wail :

Life ?
For who can look for less, that loveth

Strife?
But rather tum the pipe and water's course
To serve thy fins, and furnish thee with store
Of sov'reign tears, springing from true remorse;
That so in pureness thou may'st him adore,

Salvation.
Who gives to man, as he fees fit,

Damnation.

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Self-Condemnation. THOU who condemneft Jewish hate For chusing Barabbas, a murderer,

Before the Lord of glory :

Look back upon thine own estate, Call home thine eye (that busy wanderer)

That choice may be thy story.

He that doth love, and love amiss.
This world's delights before true christian joy,

Hath made a Jewish choice :

The world an ancient murderer is; Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy

With her enchanting voice.

He that hath made a sorry wedding Between his soul and gold, and hath preferr'd

False gain before the true,

Hath done what he condemns in reading:
For he hath fold for money his dear Lord,

And is a Judas- Few.

Thus we prevent the last great day,
And judge ourselves. That light which sin and passion

Did before dim and choak,

When once those stuffs are ta’n away,
Shines bright and clear, ev'n unto condemnation,

Without excuse or cloak,

Bitter-Sweet.

A

Since thou doft love, yet strike;
Caft down, yet help afford;
Sure I will do the like.

I will complain, yet praise :
I will bewail, approve :
And all my four-sweet days,
I will lament, and love.

The Glance.
When firte chay sweet and gráefdd's eye
Vouchsaf'd even in the midst of youth' and night"
To look upon me, who before did lieb

Well’ring in fin:
I felt a sugard strange delight,
Passing all cordials made by any art;-
Bedew, embalmy and over-rún miy: heart,

And take it in.'

Since that time manyla bittet forms
My soul hath, fek, ev'n able to deftroy,hi
Had the malicious and ill-meaning hajmr

His swing and sway:
But till thy sweet original joy,
Sprung from thine eye, did work withim my soul,
And surging griefs, when they grew bold, control,

And got the day

If thy first glance so powerful be,
Amirth but open'd and feat'd up again;
What wonders shall we feel, when we shall see

Thy full-ey'd love!
When thou shalt look us ont of paits,"
And one aspect of thine (pend in delights
More than a thousand suns di barfe light

In heav'n above!

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The 23d Psalm.

The God of love my Shepherd is,
THE

And he'that doth me feed;
While he is mine, and I am his,

What can I want or need ?

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He leads me to the tender grass,

Where I both feed and rest; Then to the streams that gently pass :.

Ih both I have the best.

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Or if I ftray, he doth convert,

And bring my mind in frame : And all this not for my desert,

But for his holy name.

Yea, in death's shady:black abode!

Well may I walk, not fear : For thou art with me, and thy rod

To guide, thy staff to bear.

Nay, thou dost make me fit and'dines,

Evin in my en’ınies' sight;
My head with oil, my.cup with wine

Runs over day and night.

Surely thy sweet and wond'rous love

shall measure all my days : And as it never shall remove,

So neither shall my praise.

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Mary Magdalen.
WH HEN blessed Mary wip'd her Saviour's feet,

(Whose precepts she had trampled on before) And wore them for a jewel on her head :

Shewing his steps should be the street

Wherein she henceforth evermore
With pensive humbleness would live and tread :
She being stain's herself, why did she strive
To make him clean, who could not be defil'd ?
Why kept she not her tears for her own faults,

And not his feet? Though we could dive

In tears like seas, our fins are pild Deeper than they, in words, and works, and thoughts. Dear soul, she knew who did vouchsafe and deiga To bear her filth; and that her fins did dash Ev'n God himself : Wherefore she was not loth,

As she had brought wherewith to Aain,

So to bring in wherewith to wash :
And yet, in washing one, she washeth both.

Aaron.
HOLINESS

OLINESS on the head,
Light and perfections on the breast,
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead,
To lead them unto life and rest ;

Thus are true Aarons drest.

Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in iny breast,
A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no reft ;

Poor priest thus am I dreft.

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