To boundless joy and folid mirth

My nobler thoughts aspire.

4 [Where pleafure rolls its living flood, From fin and dross refin'd,

Still fpringing from the throne of God,
And fit to cheer the mind.

s Th' Almighty Ruler of the fphere,

The glorious and the great,
Brings his own Allfufficience there,
To make our blifs complete.]

6 Had I the pinions of a dove,

I'd climb the heav'nly road;
There fits my Saviour dreft in love,
And there my fmiling God.

3

Nor kid nor bullock flain : Incense and spice of costly names

Would all be burnt in vain.

Aaron muft lay his robes away,

His mitre and his vest,

When God himself comes down to be
The off'ring and the priest.

4 He took our mortal flesh, to show
The wonders of his love;
For us he paid his life below,
And prays for us above.

5 Father, he crys, forgive their ûns,
For I myself have dy'd;

And then he fhows his open'd veins,
And pleads his wounded fide.

The Lord that rear'd this stately frame; Let all the nations found his praise, And lands unknown repeat his name.

2 He form'd the feas, and form'd the hills, Made ev'ry drop, and ev'ry duft, Nature and time, with all their wheels, And put them into motion first. 3Now from his high imperial throne, He looks far down upon the fpheres. He bids the shining orbs roll on, And round he turns the hafty years.. 4. Thus fhall this moving engine last 'Till all his faints are gather'd in, Then for the trumpet's dreadful blast To shake it all to duft again!

Yet when the found fhall tear the skies, And lightning burn the globe below, Saints you may lift your joyful eyes, There's a new heav'n and earth for you..

3 One day amidst the place

Where my dear God hath been, Is fweeter than ten thousand days Of pleasurable fin.

4 My willing foul would stay In fuch a frame as this, And fit and fing herself away, To everlasting bliss.

XV. LONG METRE.

3 While fuch a scene of facred joys,
Our raptur'd eyes and fouls employs,
Here we could fit and gaze away,
A long, an everlasting day.

Worship.

A drop of heav'n on worms below.

be gone,

Let my religious hours alone:

Fain would my eyes my Saviour fee,
I wait a visit, Lord, from thee.

2 My heart grows warm with holy fire,
And kindles with a pure defire:
Come, my dear Jefus, from above,
And feed my foul with heav'nly love..
3 [The trees of life immortal stand
In beauteous rows at thy right hand,
And in sweet murmurs by their fide
Rivers of blifs perpetual glide.

4 Hafte then, but with a fmiling face,
And fpread the table of thy grace:
Bring down a taste of truth divine,
And cheer my heart with facred wine.]
Blefs'd Jefus, what delicious fare !
How fweet thy entertainments are!
Never did angels taste above
Redeeming grace and dying love.
6 Hail, great Immanuel, all divine!
In thee thy Father's glories fhine:
Thou brighteft, fweetest, fairest One,
That eyes have seen, or angels known.

XVI. LONG METRE.

Part the Second.

I

While we pass through this barren land; And in thy temple let us fee

A glimpfe of love, a glimpse of Thee.

XVII. COMMON METRE.
God's Eternity.

RISE, my foul, and leave the ground,

Stretch all thy thoughts abroad,
And roufe up ev'ry tuneful found
To praife th' eternal God.

2 Long e'er the lofty skies were spread,
Jehovah fill'd his throne;

Or Adam form'd, or angels made,
Jehovah liv'd alone.

3 His boundlefs years can ne'er decrease,
But ftill maintain their prime;
Eternity's his dwelling place,
And ever is his time.

4 While like a tide our minutes flow,
The prefent and the past,

He fills his own immortal NOW,
And fees our ages waste.

5 The fea and fky must perish too,
And vaft deftruction come;

The creatures, look! how old they grow, And wait their fiery doom.

6 Well, let the fea fhrink all away, And flame melt down the skies,

Shines through the beauties of thy
face,

And lights our paffions to a flame!
Lord, how we love thy charming name.
When I can fay, My God is mine,
When I can feel thy glories fhine,
I tread the world beneath my feet,
And all the earth calls good or great.

When old creation dies.

XVIII. LONG METRE.

The Ministry of Angels.

IGH on a hill of dazzling light

H The King of glory fpreads his feat,

And troops of angels, ftretch'd for flight, Stand waiting round his awful feet.

But the great Son propos'd his blood,
And heav'nly wrath grew mild again.
Infinite Lover, gracious Lord,
To thee be endles's honours giv'n;
Thy wond'rous name shall be ador'd,
Round the wide earth, and wider heav'n.

'T

XXII.

LONG METRE,

With GOD is terrible Majesty.

ERRIBLE God that reign'ft on high,

Nor can all earth or hell withstand.

2 This the old rebel angels knew, And Satan fell beneath thy frown: Thine arrows ftruck the traitor through, And weighty vengeance funk him down. sro This Sodom felt, and feels it ftill,

And roars beneath th' eternal load: With endless burnings who can dwell, to Or bear the fury of a God?

ze

us

LONG METRE.

The Sight of GOD and CHRIST in Heaven.
ESCEND from heav'n, immortal
Dove,
Stoop down and take us on thy wings,
And mount and bear us far above
The reach of these inferiour things;

2 Beyond, beyond this lower fky,
Up where eternal ages roll,
Where folid pleasures never die,
And fruits immortal feast the soul.

30 for a fight, a pleasant fight
Of our Almighty Father's throne !
There fits our Saviour crown'd with light,
Cloth'd in a body like our own.
4 Adoring faints around him stand,

And thrones and pow'rs before him fall; The God fhines gracious through the man, And sheds fweet glories on them all.

2

4

WHE

and Men.

HEN the great Builder arch'd the fkies, And form'd all nature with a word, The joyful cherubs tun'd his praife, And ev'ry bending throne ador'd.

High in the midst of all the throng
Satan, a tall archangel, fat,
Amongst the morning ftars he fung,
'Till fin deftroy'd his heav'nly state.
3['Twas fin that hurl'd him from his throne,
Grov'ling in fire the rebel lies;
How art thou funk in darkness down,
Son of the morning, from the skies!

And thus our two firft parents flood,
'Till fin defil'd the happy place;
They loft their garden and their God,
And ruin'd all their unborn race :]

5[So fprung the plague from Adam's bower,
And fpread deftruction all abroad;
Sin, the curs'd name! that in one hour,
Spoil'd fix days labour of a God.]

Tremble, my foul, and mourn for grief,
That fuch a foe fhould feize thy breaft ;
Fly to thy Lord for quick relief;
Oh! may he flay this treach'rous guest.
7 Then to thy throne, victorious King,
Then to thy throne our fhouts fhall rise,
Thine everlasting arm we fing,

For fin, the monster, bleeds and dies.

XXV. COMMON METRE.

Complaining of fpiritual Sloth.

MY drowsy pow'rs, why fleep ye fo?
Awake my fluggish soul !
Nothing has half thy work to do,
Yet nothing's half so dull.

The little ants for one poor grain

Labour, and tug, and strive:
Yet we who have a heav'n t' obtain,
How negligent we live!

3 We, for whofe sake all nature stands
And ftars their courfes move,
We, for whofe guard the angel bands
Come flying from above.

4 We, for whom God the Son came down,
And labour'd for our good :
How careless to secure that crown
He purchas'd with his blood!

5 Lord, fhall we lie fo fluggish ftill,
And never act our parts!

Come, holy Dove, from th' heav'nly hill, And fit, and warm our hearts. 6 Then shall our active spirits move, Upward our fouls shall rife: With hands of faith and wings of love, We'll fly and take the prize.

XXVI. LONG METRE.

GOD invifible.

3

But, O ye fiery flames, declare

The brighter glories of his face.

"Tis not for fuch poor worms as we
To fpeak fo infinite a thing;
But your immortal eyes furvey
The beauties of your fov'reign King.

4 Tell how he fhews his fmiling face,
And clothes all heav'n in bright array:
Triumph and joy run through the place,
And fongs eternal as the day.

5 Speak, for you feel his burning love,
What zeal it fpreads thro' all your frame;
That facred fe dwells all above,
For we on earth have loft the name.

6 [Sing of his pow'r and juftice too,
That infinite right hand of his,
That vanquish'd Satan and his crew,
And thunder drove them down from bliss.]
[What mighty ftorms of poifon'd darts
Were hurl'd upon the rebels there!
What deadly jav'lins nail'd their hearts
Fast to the racks of long despair!]

7

8

19

Τ

[Shout to your King, you heav'nly hoft, You that behold the finking foe; Firmly ye ftood when they were loft Praise the rich grace that kept ye fo. Proclaim his wonders from the skies Let ev'ry diftant nation hear : And while you found his lofty praise, Let humble mortals bow and fear.

XXVIII.

STOO

COMMON METRE.
Death and Eternity.

TOOP down, my tho'ts, that us'd to
Converse a while with death: [rife,
Think how a gafping mortal lies,
And pants away his breath.

2 His quiv'ring lip hangs feeble down,
His pulfe is faint and few,
Then fpeechlefs, with a doleful groan,
He bids the world adieu.