Jefus, then, purge my crimes away, 'Tis guilt creates my fears, 'Tis guilt gives death its fierce array, Oh! if my threatening fins were gone, I could invite the angel on, Away these interpofing days, But kind, and foft, and sweet. I'd leap at once my feventy years, And lofe my breath, and all my cares, Joyful I'd lay this body down, ALMIGHTY Maker, God! How wondrous is thy name! Thy glories how diffus'd abroad Nature Nature in every drefs Her humble homage pays, And finds a thousand ways t' express Thine undiffembled praise, In native white and red The rose and lily stand, And, free from pride, their beauties spread, To fhew thy fkilful hand. The lark mounts up the sky, With unambitious fong, And bears her Maker's praise on high Upon her artless tongue. My foul would rise and fing To her Creator too, Fain would my tongue adore my King, And pay the worship due. But pride, that busy sin, Curs'd pride, that creeps fecurely in, And fwells a haughty worm. Thy glories I abate, Or praise thee with design; The very fongs I frame And steal the honours of thy name To build their own applause. Create 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, afcend, In fweet perfumes of praife. TRUE LEARNING. Partly imitated from a French Sonnet of Mr. Poiret. HAPPY the feet that shining Truth has led 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 On unenlighten'd fouls, and leave them doubly blind. I hate the duft that fierce difputers raise, To fence and guard by rule and rote ! Our God will never charge us, That we knew them Not. I feel my powers releas'd, and stand divinely free. The ground of all things, and their head, The circle where they move, and centre where they stand. Without his aid I have no sure defence, From troops of errors that befiege me round; Faft here, and never wanders hence, Infinite Truth, the life of my defires, Come from the iky, and join thyself to me; 'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to fee. Creatures, be dumb at his command, heart. Retire, Retire, my foul, within thy felf retire, The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light, And fees unutterable things in that unknown abyss. PRO TRUE WISDO M. Ronounce him bleft, my Muse, whom Wisdom guides In her own path to her own heavenly feat; Through all the ftorms his foul securely 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, Our head-strong lufts, like a young fiery horse, 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 |