Where freed souls dwell by living fountains Alas! my God! take home thy sheep; THE STONE. Josh. xxiv. 27. I HAVE it now: But where to act that none shall know ; What man will show? If nights, and shades, and secret rooms, Will not conceal nor assent to My dark designs, what shall I do? But these dumb creatures are so true, 66 Hedges have ears,” saith the old sooth, "And ev'ry bush is something's booth;" This cautious fools mistake, and fear Nothing but man when ambush'd there. But I, alas! Was shown one day in a strange glass And into loud discoveries break, As loud as blood. Not that God needs All things with life, before whose eye * But he that judgeth as he hears, He that accuseth none, so steers His righteous course, that though he knows Are shak'd for witnesses, and stones, With one attesting voice detect Those secret sins we least suspect. For know, wilde men, that, when you erre, Each thing turns scribe and register And, in obedience to his Lord, Doth your most private sins record. * John v. 30, 45. The law delivered to the Jews, Who promis'd much, but did refuse Performance, will for that same deed Against them by a stone proceed; Whose substance, though 'tis hard enough, Will prove their hearts more stiff and tuff. But now, since God on himself took What all mankinde could never brook, If any (for he all invites) His easie yoke rejects or slights, The gospel then, for 'tis his word, * And not himself, shall judge the world, THE DWELLING-PLACE. St. John, i. 38, 39. WHAT happy, secret fountain, Whose undiscover'd virgin glory Boasts it this day, though not in story, Was then thy dwelling? Did some cloud, Fix'd to a tent, descend and shrowd My distrest Lord? or did a star, Beckon❜d by thee, though high and far, * St. John, xii. 47, 48. In sparkling smiles haste gladly down What lodged thee then, nor where nor how; Where thou too hast but the least part; My God, I mean my sinful heart. THE MEN OF WAR. St. Luke, xxiii. 11. "IF any have an ear," Saith holy John,* "then let him hear! Leads others shall a captive be. Who with the sword doth others kill, Were not thy word, dear Lord! my light, * Rev. xiii. 10. Nor for a temporal self-end Successful wickedness commend. For in this bright, instructing verse But seeing soldiers long ago Did spit on thee, and smote thee too; Crown'd thee with thorns, and bow'd the knee, But in contempt, as still we see, Dear Jesus, give me patience here, |