Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares

Difpute his awful will ?

Afk no account of his affairs,
But tremble, and be ftill.

Juft like his nature is his grace,

All fovereign, and all free;

Great God, how fearchless are thy ways!
How deep thy judgments be!

THE INFINIT E.

SOME feraph, lend your heavenly tongue,

Or harp of golden ftring,

That I may raise a lofty fong

To our Eternal King.

Thy names, how infinite they be!
Great Everlasting One!
Boundless thy might and majesty,
And unconfin'd thy throne.

Thy glories fhine of wondrous size,
And wondrous large thy grace;
Immortal day breaks from thine eyes,
And Gabriel veils his face.

Thine effence is a vast abyss,

Which angels cannot found,

An ocean of infinities

Where all our thoughts are drown'd.

The

The mysteries of creation lie

Beneath enlighten'd minds, Thoughts can afcend above the sky,

And fly before the winds.

Reafon may grafp the maffy hills,
And stretch from pole to pole,
But half thy name our spirit fills,
And overloads our foul.

In vain our haughty reason swells,
For nothing's found in Thee
But boundless unconceivables,
And vaft eternity.

CONFESSION AND PARDO N.

ALAS, my aking heart!

Here the keen torment lies;

It racks my waking hours with smart,
And frights my flumbering eyes.

Guilt will be hid no more,

My griefs take vent apace,

The crimes that blot my confcience o'er
Flush crimson in my face.

My forrows, like a flood,
Impatient of restraint,

Into thy bofom, O my God,

Pour out a long complaint.

This impious heart of mine

Could once defy the Lord,

Could rush with violence on to fin,
In prefence of thy fword.

How often have I ftood

A rebel to the fkies,

The calls, the tenders of a God,

And mercy's loudest cries!

He offers all his grace,

And all his heaven to mc; Offers! but 'tis to fenfeless brass, That cannot feel nor fee.

Jefus the Saviour stands

To court me from above,

And looks and fpreads his wounded hands,
And fhews the prints of love.

But I, a ftupid fool,

How long have I withstood

The bleffings purchas'd with his foul,

And paid for all in blood!

The heavenly Dove came down
And tender'd me his wings
To mount me upward to a crown,
And bright immortal things.

Lord, I'm afham'd to fay
That I refus'd thy Dove,

And fent thy Spirit griev'd away,

To his own realms of love.

Not

Not all thine heavenly charms,

Nor terrors of thy hand,

Could force me to lay down my arms,

And bow to thy command.

Lord, 'tis against thy face

My fins like arrows rife,

And yet, and yet (O matchlefs grace!)
Thy thunder filent lies.

O fhall I never feel

The meltings of thy love?
Am I fuch hell-harden'd fteel
That mercy cannot move?
Now for one powerful glance,
Dear Saviour, from thy face!
This rebel-heart no more withstands,
But finks beneath thy grace.

O'ercome by dying love I fall,
Here at thy cross I lie;

And throw my flesh, my foul, my all,
And weep, and love, and die.

"Rife, fays the Prince of Mercy, rise,
"With joy and pity in his eyes :
"Rife, and behold my wounded veins,
"Here flows the blood to wash thy stains.
"See my Great Father reconcil'd:"
He faid. And lo, the Father fmil'd:
The joyful cherubs clap'd their wings,
And founded grace on all their strings.

Young

L

Young Men and Maidens, Old Men and Babes, praise ye the LORD, Pfal. cxlviii. 12.

NS of Adam, bold and young,

SONS

In the wild mazes of whose veins

A flood of fiery vigour reigns,

And weilds your active limbs, with hardy sinews ftrung; Fall proftrate at th' eternal throne

Whence your precarious powers depend; Nor fwell as if your lives were all your own,

But choose your Maker for your friend;

His favour is your life, his arm is your fupport,

His hand can stretch your days, or cut your minutes short.

Virgins, who roll your
artful eyes,
And shoot delicious danger thence;
Swift the lovely lightning flies,
And melts our reafon down to fenfe;
Boaft not of those withering charms
That must yield their youthful grace
To age and wrinkles, earth and worms ;
But love the Author of your smiling face;

That heavenly bridegroom claims your blooming hours:
O make it your perpetual care

To please that Everlasting Fair;

His beauties are the fun, and but the fhade is yours.

Infants, whofe different deftinies

Are wove with threads of different fize

But