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Self in myself I hate,
That's matter of my groan; Nor can I rid me from the mate
That causes me to moan.
Soon trapt in ey’ry gin;
Plung’d in the gulph of fin.
My Lord's most bloody foe?
How long shall it be fo?
How long in Mesech here?
Whose name's to me so dear?
And makes me sadly pine ;
Till beanis of glory thine!
SLC T. IV.
COMPLAINT of Sin, Sorrow, and want of Love.
Then, Lord, my due delert is death;
And from their b dies mortal breath. But in fo great a Saviour,
Can e'er fo base a worm's annoy
Or any gladness to thy joy?
And everlasting flames of fire ;
Can never fure be worth thine ire. Since Jefus the atonement was,
Let tender mercy me release; Let him be umpire of my cause,
And pass the gladfone doom of peace,
Let grace forgive, and love forget
My bafe, my vile apostacy; And temper thy deserved hate
With love and mercy toward me. The ruffling winds and raging blafts
Hold me in constant cruel chace ; They break my anchors, fails and masts,
Allowing no reposing place. The boist'rous seas with swelling floods,
On ev'ry fide against me fight. Heav'n, overcast with stormy clouds,
Dims all the planet's guiding light. The hellish furies ly in wait
To win my foul into their pow'r ; To make me bite at ev'ry bait,
And thus my killing bane devour: I lie inchain'd in fin and thrall,
Next border unto black despair; Till grace restore, and of
fall The doleful ruins all repair. My hov'ring thoughts would fee to glore,
And nestle safe above the sky; Fain would my tumbling ship ashore
At that sure anchor quiet lie. But mounting thoughts are haled down
With heavy poise of corrupt load; And blust'ring itornis deny with frown
An harbour of secure abode. To drown the wight that wakes the blast,
Thy fin-fubduing grace afford; The Atorm might cease, could 1 but caft
This troublous Jonah over-board. Base Acíh, with fleshly pleasures gain'd,
Sweet grace's kindly suit declines; When mercy courts ne for its friend,
fordid Aeth repines. Soar up, my foul, to Tabor bill,
Cast off this loathfonie pressing load; Long is the date of thine exile, While abfent from the Lord, thy God.
Dote not on earthy weeds and toys,
Which do nut, cannot luit thy talle : The flow'rs of everlalling joys
Grow up apace for thy repast. Sith that the glorious God above
In Jefus bears a love to thee;
Of any being lets than he?
Content in luve to live and die:
And with his life thy love did buy. Since then the God of richest love
With thy poor love enamour'd is; How high a crime will thee reprove,
If not enamour'd deep with his?
His love does thine fo hot pursue ;
Thy mite a thousand-fold is due.
Young little dawn of endless day:
and fin-fubduing presence. IND Jefus, come in love to me,
And make no longer stay; Or else receive my soul to thee,
That breathes to be away.
As well it me becomes,
O grant a dog the crumbs.
Thy needful help infúre:
My rags, that I am poor.
Thou many at thy door doft feed,
With mercy when distreft ;
To me among the rest.
None else can cale my moan,
All other joys be gone.
How can I be at rest ?
To want my noble guest.
Cease not on any terms, Until I have my heart's desire, My Lord within my
my arms. My heart, my hand, my spirits fail,
When hiding off be goes;
And work my daily woes.
Will all my fins deltroy?
Will banilh all annoy!
And wait on Pilgah's hill,
Then thould my ful be still.
While I in Kedar dwell;
For ablence is a hell.
Who me lo dear has bought:
For good which thou hast wrought. With fear I crave, with hope I cry,
Oh promis'd favour send ! Be thou thyself, though chang'ling I Ungratefully offend.
Out of the way remove the lets,
Cleanse this polluted den;
Sweet Jesus, say, Amen.
SECT. VI. The Song of Heaven desired by Saints on Earth. AURORA vails her rofy face,
When brighter Phebus takes her place ; So glad will grace resign her room To glory in the heav'nly home. Happy the company that's gone From cross to crown, from thrall to throne; How loud they fing upon the shore, To which they fail'd in heart before ! Bless'd are the dead, yea, saith the word, That dię in Christ the living Lord, And on the other side of death Thus joyful spend their praising breath: " Death from all death hath fet us free, « And will our gain for ever be ; " Death loos’d the maliy chains of woe, " To let the mournful captives go. " Death is to us a sweet repose; “ The bud was op'd to shew the rose; “ The cage was broke to let us fly, “ And build our happy nest on high. “ Lo! here we do triumphant reign, “ And joyful sing in lofty strain, " Lo! here we rest, and love to be, “ Enjoying more than faith could fee, • The thousandth part we now behold,
By mortal tongues was never told; “ We got a taste, but now above “ We forage in the fields of love. “ Faith once stole down a distant kiss; “ Now love cleaves to the cheek of blifs ;
Beyond the fears of more mifhap * We gladly rest in glory's lap.