Create my foul anew,

Elfe all my worship's vain;

This wretched heart will ne'er be true,

Until 'tis form'd again.

Defcend, celeftial fire,

And feize me from above; Melt me in flames of pure defire, A facrifice to love.

Let joy and worship spend

The remnant of my days,

And to my God, my foul, ascend,

In sweet perfumes of praise.

TRUE LEARNING.

Partly imitated from a French Sonnet of Mr. Poiret.

HAPPY the feet that fhining Truth has led

With her own hand to tread the path she please,

To fee her native luftre round her spread,
Without a veil, without a fhade,

All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is.

Our fenfes cheat us with the preffing crowds
Of painted shapes they thruß upon the mind :
The truth they thew lies wrap'd in sevenfold shrouds,
Our fenfes caft a thousand clouds

On unenlighten'd fouls, and leave them doubly blind.

I hate the duft that fierce difputers raise,
And lofe the mind in a wild maze of thought:
What empty triflings, and what fubtle ways,
To fence and guard by rule and rote !

Our God will never charge us, That we knew them Not,
Touch, heavenly Word, O touch thefe curious fouls;
Since I have heard but one foft hint from Thee,
From all the vain opinions of the schools
(That pageantry of knowing fools)

I feel my powers releas'd, and stand divinely free.
'Twas this Almighty Word that all things made,
He grafps whole nature in his fingle hand;
All the eternal truths in him are laid,

The ground of all things, and their head,

The circle where they move, and centre where they ftand.

Without his aid I have no fure defence,

From troops of errors that besiege me round;
But he that refts his reafon and his fenfe

Faft here, and never wanders hence,
Unmoveable he dwells upon unfhaken ground.

Infinite Truth, the life of my defires,

Come from the tky, and join thyself to me;
I'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires ;
But never tir'd of telling Thee,

'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to fee.

Speak to my foul, alone, no other hand
Shall mark my path out with delufive art:
All nature filent in his prefence ftand;
Creatures, be dumb at his command,

And leave his fingle voice to whisper to my heart.

Retire,

Retire, my foul, within thy felf retire,
Away from fenfe and every outward fhow:
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes afpire,
My knowledge now on wheels of fire
May mount and spread above, furveying all below.

The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light,
And pours whole floods on fuch a mind as this:
Fled from the eyes, fhe gains a piercing fight,
She dives into the infinite,

And fees unutterable things in that unknown abyfs.

PRo

TRUE WISDOM.

Ronounce him blest, my Muse, whom Wisdom guides In her own path to her own heavenly feat; Through all the ftorms his foul fecurely glides,

Nor can the tempefts, nor the tides,

That rife and roar around, fupplant his steady feet.
Earth, you may let your golden arrows fly,
And seek, in vain, a passage to his breast,
Spread all your painted toys to court his eye,
He fmiles, and fees them vainly try

To lure his foul afide from her eternal reft.

Our head-ftrong lufts, like a young fiery horse,
Start, and flee raging in a violent course;

He tames and breaks them, manages and rides them,

Checks their career, and turns and guides them,

And bids his reafon bridle their licentious force.

Lord

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts,
And boldly acts what calmly he defign'd,
Whilft he looks down and pities human faults
Nor can he think, nor can he find

;

A plague like reigning paffions, and a fubject mind.

But oh! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height,
To vanquish felf is a laborious art;
What manly courage to sustain the fight
To bear the noble pain, and part

With those dear charming tempters rooted in the heart!

'Tis hard to ftand when all the paffions move,
Hard to awake the eye that paffion blinds;
To rend and tear out this unhappy love,
That clings fo close about our minds,

And where th' inchanted foul so sweet a poison finds.

Hard;
but it may be done. Come, heavenly fire,
Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray
Melt off my lufts, my fetters: I can bear

But

A while to be a tenant here,

not be chain'd and prifon'd in a cage of clay.

Heaven is my home, and I must use my wings;
Sublime above the globe my flight aspires :
I have a foul was made to pity kings,

And all their little glittering things;

I have a foul was made for infinite defires.

Loos'd from the earth, my heart is upward flown ; Farewell, my friends, and all that once was mine;

Now, fhould you fix my feet on Cæfar's throne,
Crown me, and call the world my own,
The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my foul confine.

I am the Lord's, and Jefus is my love;
He, the dear God, fhall fill my vast desire.
My flesh below; yet I can dwell above,

And nearer to my Saviour move;

There all my foul fhall center, all my powers confpire.

Thus I with angels live; thus half-divine

I fit on high, nor mind inferior joys:

Fill'd with his love, I feel that God is mine,

His glory is my great defign,

That everlasting project all my thoughts employs.

A SONG to Creating WISDOM.

ET

PART I.

TERNAL Wifdom, thee we praise,
Thee the creation fings :

With thy loud name, rocks, hills, and feas,
And heaven's high palace rings.

Place me on the bright wings of day

To travel with the fun;

With what amaze fhall I furvey

The wonders thou haft done!

Thy hand how wide it spread the sky!
How glorious to behold?

Ting'd with a blue of heavenly dye,
And starr'd with sparkling gold.

4

There