Conclude not he in wrath difowns, When trouble thee furrounds; These are his favourable frowns, Thy Hufband's healing wounds. Yea, when he gives the deepest lafh, Love leads the wounding hand: His ftroke, when fin has got a dash, Thy Hufband will remand. SECT. IX. Comfort to BELIEVERS, in CHRIST'S Rlations, in bis dying Love, bis Glory in Heaven, to which he will lead them through Death, and fupply with neceffaries by the way. BEHOLD the patrimony broad That to thee by line; In him thou art an heir of God, Thy Friend will help in thrall; All these he does amafs and fhare, His blood abundant value bore, To make his purchase broad; 'Twas fair divinity in gore, Thy Hufband is thy God. Who purchas'd at the higheft price, 150 He is of heav'n the comely rofe, His beauty makes it fair; Heav'n were but hell, couldft thou suppose He thither did in pomp afcend, And nought but death is now betwixt He'll lead thee fafe, and bring theé home, Of grace while here, till glory come : His ftore can answer ev'ry bill, Thy food and raiment's bought; Though on thy hand, that has no might, Nor work, nor warfare, needs thee fright, But he uplifts, and leads the too; Thy Hufband knows the way. SECT. X. Comfort to BELIEVERS from the text, Thy Maker is thy Husband, inverted thus, Thy Hufband is thy Maker; and the conclufion of this fubject. OF F light and life, of grace and glore, Rejoice in him for evermore, Thy Hufband is thy Maker. He made thee, yea, made thee his bride, The fun that guides the golden day, The grazing herd, the beafts of prey, The creatures great and small, For thy behoof their tribute pay; Thy Hufband made them all. Thine's Paul, Apollos, life and death, Let armies ftrong of earthly gods Thy Hufband's Lord of hofts. What can thee hurt? whom doft thou fear? All things are at his call. Thy Maker is thy Hufband dear, Thy Hufband all in all. What doft thou feek? what doft thou want? He'll thy defires fulfil; He gave himself, what won't he grant? Thy Hufband's at thy will. The more thou doft of him defire, The more he loves to give : High let thy mounting aims afpire, Thy Husband gives thee leave. The lefs thou feek'ft, the lefs thou doft His bounty fet on high; But higheft feekers here do moft Thy husband glorify. Wouldst thou have grace? Well; but 'tis meet He should more glory gain. Wouldst thou have Father, Son, and Sp'rit? Thy Hufband fays, AMEN. He'll kindly act the lib'ral God, With royal gifts his fubjects load: GOSPEL-SONNETS. PART. III. The BELIEVER'S RIDDLE: Or, The MYSTERY of FAITH. THE PRE FACE, Shewing the Use and Design of the Riddle. READER, the following enigmatic Song Does not to wifeft nat'ralifts belong: For though they glance the words, the meaning chokes; They read the lines, but not the paradox. The fubject will, howe'er the phrase be blunt, If with their nat'ral and acquired fight They fhare not divine evangelic light. Great wits may roufe their fancies, rack their brains, And after all their labour lofe their pains: Their wifeft comments were but witlefs chat, Unapt to frame an explication pat. No unregen'rate mortal's best engines Can right unriddle these few rugged lines; |