That nothing being hers but sin and thrall,
She must be debtor unto grace for all.
Hence comes she to him in her naked case,
To be invested with his righteousness.
She comes, as guilty, to a pardon free;
As vile and filthy, to a cleansing sea:
As poor and empty, to the richest stock;
As weak and feeble, to the strongest rock:
As perishing, unto a shield from thrall;
As worse than nothing, to an all in all.
She as a blinded mole, an ign'rant fool,
Comes for instruction to the Prophet's school.
She, with a hell-deserving conscious breast,
Flees for atonement to the worthy Priest.
She, as a slave to sin and Satan, wings
Her flight for help unto the King of kings.
She all her maladies and plagues brings forth
To this Physician of eternal worth.
She spreads before his throne her filthy sore;
And lays her broken bones down at his door.
No mite she has to buy a crumb of bliss,
And therefore comes impov'rish'd, as she is.
By sin and Satan of all good bereft,
Comes e'en as bare as they her soul have left.
To sense, as free of holiness within,
As Christ, the spotless Lamb, was free of sin.
She comes by faith, true; but it shows her want,
And brings her as a sinner, not a saint;
A wretched sinner flying for her good
To justifying, sanctifying blood.
Strong faith no strength, nor pow'r of acting,
But acts in sense of weakness and of wants.
Drain'd now of ev'rything that men may call
Terms and conditions of relief from thrall;
Except this one, that Jesus be her all.
When to the bride he gives espousing faith,
It finds her under sin, and guilt, and wrath,
And makes her as a plagued wretch to fall
At Jesus' footstool for the cure of all.
Her whole salvation now in him she seeks,
And musing thus perhaps in secret speaks:
"Lo! all my burdens may in him be eas'd;
The justice I offended he has pleas'd;
The bliss that I have forfeit he procur'd;
The curse that I deserved he endur'd;
The law that I have broken he obey'd;
The debt that I contracted he has paid:
And though a match unfit for him I be,
I find him ev'ry way most fit for me.
"Sweet Lord, I think, would thou thyself impart, I'd welcome thee with open hand and heart. But thou that sav'st by price, must save by pow'r ; O send thy Spirit in a fiery show'r,
This cold and frozen heart of mine to thaw,
That nought, save cords of burning love, can draw.
O draw me, Lord, then will I run to thee,
And glad into thy glowing bosom flee.
I own myself a mass of sin and hell,
A brat that can do nothing but rebel :
But didst thou not, as sacred pages show,*
(When rising up to spoil the hellish crew,
That had by thousands, sinners captive made,
And hadst in conqu'ring chains them captive led)
Get donatives, not for thy proper gain,
But royal bounties for rebellious men,
Gifts, graces, and the Spirit without bounds,
For God's new house with man on firmer grounds?
O then let me a rebel now come speed,
Thy Holy Spirit is the gift I need.
His precious graces too, the glorious grant,
Thou kindly promis'd, and I greatly want.
Thou art exalted to the highest place,
To give repentance forth, and ev'ry grace.*
O Giver of spiritual life and breath,
The Author and the Finisher of faith ;†
Thou, husband-like, must ev'rything provide,
If e'er the like of me become thy bride."
FAITH'S VIEW OF THE FREEDOM OF GRACE, CORDIAL RENUNCIATION
OF ALL ITS OWN RAGGED RIGHTEOUSNESS, AND FORMAL ACCEPT-
ANCE OF AND CLOSING WITH THE PERSON OF GLORIOUS CHRIST.
THE bride with open eyes, that once were dim,
Sees now her whole salvation lies in him,
The Prince, who is not in dispensing nice,
But freely gives without her pains or price.
This magnifies the wonder in her eye,
Who not a farthing has wherewith to buy;
For now her humbled mind can disavow
Her boasted beauty and assuming brow;
With conscious eye discern her emptiness,
With candid lips her poverty confess.
"O glory to the Lord, that grace is free,
Else never would it light on guilty me.
I nothing have with me to be its price,
But hellish blackness, enmity, and vice."
In former times she durst presuming come
To grace's market with a petty sum
Of duties, prayers, tears, a boasted set,
Expecting Heav'n would thus be in her debt.
These were the price, at least she did suppose
She'd be the welcomer because of those:
But now she sees the vileness of her vogue,
The dung that close doth ev'ry duty clog;
The sin that doth her holiness reprove,
The enmity that close attends her love;
The great heart-hardness of her penitence,
The stupid dulness of her vaunted sense;
The unbelief of former blazed faith,
The utter nothingness of all she hath.
The blackness of her beauty she can see,
The pompous pride of strain'd humility,
The naughtiness of all her tears and pray'rs,
And now renounces all as worthless wares;
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