We have to haften unto thee as faft;' And learn that all the time is loft that's paft? That so we may not want Witness enough against thee, that thou are Original corruption, was not thine, Do prove my joy and gain. Thy circumcifion writ thy death in blood: O blessed change! Yet, rightly understood, To recompence thy pain? Lord, take revenge upon me for this fmart: The Epiphany, or Twelfth-Day. REAT, without controverly great, The mystery of godliness, Whereof the gospel doth intreat. God in the flesh is manifeft, And that which hath for ever been Angels to fhepherds brought the news: His glory from his own: but these, Gold, frankincenfe, and myrrh, they give; The Sun of Righteousness appears, Would work effectually in me, Another new Epiphany, Exhale and elevate me hence: That, as my calling doth require, The Passion, or Good-Friday. HIS day my Saviour dy'd: and do I live? What hath not forrow flain me yet? Did the immortal God vouchsafe to give THIS His life for mine, and do I fet Did his free mercy, and mere love to me, But dying fuffer more thro' grief and shame, 5446) Than mortal men have pow'r to name ? And can ingratitude fo far prevail, To keep my living still? Alas! Methinks fome thorn out of his crown, fome nail, At least his fpear, might pierce, and pafs Through and through, till it reviv'd mine heart; And doth he not expect it should be fo? His juft defire? O no, it cannot be: His death muft needs be death to me. My life's not mine, but his: for he did die Die then, dull foul, and if thou canst not die, Of living tears, whose streams may ne'er go dry. Till they have drown'd all joys, but thofe alone, For Sorrow hath its joys; and I am glad Would be to grieve for ever, with a grief No grief was like that, which he griev'd for me, And like my grief for him no grief should be, But what I would, and cannot, he doth fee, The Resurrection, or Easter-Day. UP, and Saviour's gone before. away, Why doft thou stay, Dull foul? Behold the door Is open, and his precept bids thee rife, Whilft in the grave thou ly'st: He that doth give Thee life, would have thee prize't More highly than to keep it bury'd, where Is rottennefs, And duft fo pleasant to thee, And heaven, cannot wo thee, To shake thy fhackles off, and leave behind thee Those fetters, which to death and hell do bind thee? In vain thou fay'ft,' Th'art bury'd with thy Saviour, If thou delay'ft, To fhew, by thy behaviour," That thou art risen with him; till thou shine And with him brought the day, Which all thy foes -Frighted out of the way: And wilt thou, fluggard-like, turn in thy bed, Open thine eyes, Sin-feized foul, and fee What cobweb-ties They are, that tramel thee; Not profits, pleafures, honours, as thou thinkeft; But lofs, pain, fhame, at which thou vainly winkeft, All that is good Thy Saviour dearly bought With his heart's blood; And it must there be fought, Where he keeps refidence, who rofe this day: Linger no longer then; up, and away. The Ascension, or Holy Thursday. M OUNT, mount, my Son, and climb, or ratherfly Thy Saviour rofe not only, but afcended : And he must be attended |