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There dust, that out of doors might fill

Thy eies, and blind thee still,

Is fast asleep.

Up, then, and keep

Within those doors, my doors. Dost hear? I will.


SINCE in a land not barren still,
Because thou dost thy grace distill,
My lot is faln, blest be thy will!

And since these biting frosts but kill
Some tares in me which choke or spill
That seed thou sow'st, blest be thy skill!

Blest be thy dew, and blest thy frost,
And happy I to be so crost,

And cur'd by crosses at thy cost.

The dew doth cheer what is distrest,
The frosts ill weeds nip and molest,
In both thou work'st unto the best.

Thus, while thy sev'ral mercies plot,
And work on me now cold, now hot,
The work goes on, and slacketh not;

For as thy hand the weather steers,
So thrive I best 'twixt joyes and tears,
And all the year have some grean ears.


As travellours, when the twilight's come,
And in the sky the stars appear,

The past day's accidents do summe

With," Thus wee saw there, and thus here;'

Then, Jacob-like, lodge in a place,
A place, and no more, is set down,
Where, till the day restore the race,
They rest, and dream homes of their own;

So for this night I linger here,
And, full of tossings to and fro,
Expect still, when thou wilt appear,
That I may get me up, and go.

I long and grone and grieve for thee,
For thee my words, my tears, do gush;
"O that I were but where I see!"
Is all the note within my bush.

As birds robb'd of their native wood,
Although their diet may be fine,

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Yet neither sing, nor like their food,
But with the thought of home do pine;

So do I mourn and hang my head;
And though thou dost me fullnes give,
Yet look I for far better bread,
Because by this man cannot live.

O feed me then! and since I may
Have yet more days, more nights, to count,
So strengthen me, Lord, all the way,
That I may travel to thy mount.

Heb. xi. 13.

And they confessed, that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.



LORD, when thou didst on Sinai pitch, And shine from Paran; when a firie law, Pronounc'd with thunder and thy threats, did thaw Thy people's hearts; when all thy weeds were rich, And inaccessible for light,

Terrour, and might, —

How did poor flesh, which after thou didst weare,

Then faint and fear!

Thy chosen flock, like leafs in a high wind,
Whisper'd obedience, and their heads inclin❜d.


But now since we to Sion came,
And through thy bloud thy glory see,
With filial confidence we touch ev'n thee;
And where the other mount, all clad in flame
And threatning clouds, would not so much
As 'bide the touch,

We climb up this, and have, too, all the way,
Thy hand our stay;

Nay, thou tak'st ours, and, which full comfort brings,
Thy Dove, too, bears us on her sacred wings.


Yet since man is a very brute,

And, after all thy acts of grace, doth kick,
Slighting that health thou gav'st when he was sick,
Be not displeas'd, if I, who have a sute

To thee each houre, beg at thy door
For this one more :

O plant in me thy gospel and thy law,
Both faith and awe;

So twist them in my heart, that ever there
I may, as well as love, find too thy fear!


Let me not spill, but drink, thy bloud;

Not break thy fence, and, by a black excess,

Force down a just curse, when thy hands would


Let me not scatter and despise my food,

Or nail those blessed limbs again

Which bore my pain.

So shall thy mercies flow; for, while I fear,
I know thoul't bear;

But should thy mild injunction nothing move me, I would both think and judge I did not love thee.

John xiv. 15.

If ye love me, keep my commandments.



I SAW eternity the other night,

Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright;

And round beneath it, time in hours, days, years,
Driv'n by the spheres

Like a vast shadow mov'd, in which the world
And all her train were hurl'd.
The doting lover, in his queintest strain,
Did there complain;

Neer him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights,
Wit's sour delights;

With gloves and knots, the silly snares of pleasure,
Yet his dear treasure

All scatter'd lay, while he his eyes did pour

Upon a flowr.


The darksome statesman hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight fog, mov'd there so slow, He did nor stay nor go;

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