Chr. ALAS, poor Death! where is thy glory? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient fting? Dea. Alas, poor mortal, void of ftory! Go Spell and read how I have kill'd thy King. Chr. Poor Death! and who was hurt thereby? Thefe arms fhall crush thee. Chr. Spare not, do thy worft. Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more. The Water-Course. HOU who doft dwell and linger here below, Tsince the condition of this world is frail, For who can look for less, that loveth Life? Strife? But rather turn the pipe and water's course Who gives to man, as he fees fit, Salvation. Damnation. Self-Condemnation. THOU who condemneft Jewish hate For chufing Barabbas, a murderer," Look back upon thine own eftate, He that doth love, and love amiss. The world an ancient murderer is; He that hath made a forry wedding Between his foul and gold, and hath preferr'd Falfe gain before the true, Hath done what he condemns in reading: For he hath fold for money his dear Lord, And is a Judas-Jew... Thus we prevent the laft great day, And judge ourselves. That light which fin and paffion Did before dim and choak,, When once thofe stuffs are ta'n away, Shines bright and clear, ev'n unto condemnation, Bitter Sweet.' AH my dear angry y Lord! Since thou dost love, yet strike; Caft down, yet help afford; Sure I will do the like. I will complain, yet praife: The Glance: WHEN firft thy fweet and gracious eye Vouchfaf'd even in the midst of youth and night" To look upon me, who before did lieb: Welt'ring in fin I felt a fugar'd ftrange delight, Paffing all cordials made by any art;Bedew, embalm, and over-run my heart, And take it in. Since that time many a bitter forms My foul hath felt, ev'n able to deftroy,bi Had the malicious and ill-meaning harm His fwing and fway: But ftill thy fweet original joy, Sprung from thine eye, did work withim my foul, And furging griefs, when they grew bold, control, And got the day. If thy first glance fo powerful be, When thou shalt look us out of pain, And one aspect of thine spend in delight The 23d Psalm. HE God of love my Shepherd is, THE And he that doth me feed'; While he is mine, and I am his, 1 He leads me to the tender grafs, Or if I ftray, he doth convert, And bring my mind in frame: And all this not for my defert, Yea, in death's fhady black abode! Nay, thou doft make me fit and dine, My head with oil, my cup with wine Surely thy fweet and wond'rous love And as it never fhall remove, So neither fhall my praife. 1. WHE Mary Magdalen. 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 With pensive humbleness would live and tread : Deeper than they, in words, and works, and thoughts. So to bring in wherewith to wash : Aaron. HOLINESS on the head, Light and perfections on the breaft, Profaneness in my head, Defects and darkness in my breast, Poor priest thus am I dreft. |