Its beams with force and glory beat, And fruitful earth is fill'd with heat. Father, alfo with thy fire

Warm the cold, the dead defire.

And make the facred love of thee,
Within my foul, a fun to me.
Let it fhine fo fairly bright,
That nothing else be took for light;
That worldly charms be feen to fade,
And in its luftre find a fhade.
Let it strongly fhine within,
To scatter all the clouds of fin,

That drive when gufts of paffion rife,
And intercept it from our eyes.
Let its glory more than vie
With the fun that lights the sky:
Let it swiftly mount in air,
Mount with that, and leave it there;
And foar, with more afpiring flight,
To realms of everlasting light,
Thus, while here I'm forc'd to be,
I daily wish to live with thee;
And feel that union which thy love
Will. after death, complete above.
From my foul I fend my prayer,
Great Creator, bow thine ear;
Thou, for whofe propitious fway
The world was taught to fee the day;
Who fpake the word, and earth begun,
And fhew'd its beauties in the fun;
With pleasure I thy creatures view,
And would, with good affection too;
Good affection fweetly free,

Loose from them, and move to thee;
O, teach me, due returns to give,
And to thy glory let me live;
And then my days fhall fhine the more,
Or pass more bleffed than before.

HYMN FOR EVENING.

THE beam-repelling mifts arife,
And evening spreads obscurer skies:
The twilight will the night forerun,
And night itself be foon begun.
Upon thy knees devoutly bow,
And pray the Lord of glory now,
To fill thy breast, or deadly fin
May caufe a blinder night within.
And whether pleafing vapours rise,
Which gently dim the clofing eyes;
Which make the weary members blefs'd,
With sweet refreshment in their reft;
Or whether spirits in the brain
Dispel their foft embrace again;
And on my watchful bed I stay,
Forfook by fleep, and waiting day;
Be God for ever in my view,
And never he forfake me too;
But fill as day concludes in night,
To break again with new-born light;
His wondrous bounty let me find,
With ftill a more cnlighten'd mind;

When grace and love in one agree,
Grace from God, and love from me;
Grace that will from heaven inspire,
Love that feals it in defire;

Grace and love that mingle beams,
And fill me with encreafing flames.
Thou that haft thy palace far
Above the moon and every star,
Thou that fittest on a throne

To which the night was never known,
Regard my voice and make me bless'd,
By kindly granting its request.
If thoughts on thee my foul employ,
My darkness will afford me joy,
Till thou shalt call, and I fhall foar,
And part with darkness evermore.

THE SOUL IN SORROW.

WITH kind compaffion hear me cry,
O, Jefu, Lord of life, on high!
As when the fummer's feafons beat,
With fcorching flame and parching heat:
The trees are burnt, the flowers fade,
And thirsty gaps in earth are made:
My thoughts of comfort languish so,
And fo my foul is broke by woe.
Then on thy fervant's drooping head
Thy dews of bleffing fweetly fhed;
Let thofe a quick refrefiment give,
And raife my mind, and bid me live.
My fears of danger, while I breathe,
My dread of endless hell beneath :
My sense of forrow for my fin,
To fpringing comfort, change within;
Change all my fad complaints for ease,
To cheerful notes of endless praife:
Nor let a tear mine eyes employ,
But such as owe their birth to joy;
Joy transporting, fweet, and strong,
Fit to fill and raise my fong;
Joy that fhall refounded be,

While days and nights fucceed for me:
Be not as a judge severe,

For fo thy prefence who may bear?
On all my words and actions look,
(I know they're written in thy book;)
But then regard my mournful cry,
And look with mercy's gracious eye;
What needs my blood, fince thine will do,
To pay the debt to justice due?

O, tender mercy's art divine!·

Thy forrow proves the cure of mine!
Thy dropping wounds, thy woeful smart,
Allay the bleedings of my heart;

Thy death, in death's extreme of pain,
Reftores my foul to life again.
Guide me then, for here I burn,
To make my Saviour fome return.
I'll rife (if that will please him, ftill,
And fure I've heard him own it will);
I'll trace his feps, and hear my cross,
Defpifing every grief and lofs;

Since he, defpifing pain and fhame, First took up his, and did the fame.

And made by wealth, which makes him great, A more confpicuous wretch of state.

THE HAPPY MAN.

How blefs'd the man, how fully fo,
As far as man is blefs'd below,
Who, taking up his crofs, effays
To follow Jefus all his days;
With refolution to obey,
And steps enlarging in his way.
The Father of the faints above
Adopts him with a father's love,
And makes his bofom throughly shine
With wondrous ftores of grace divine;
Sweet grace divine, the pledge of joy,
That will his foul above employ;
Full joy, that, when his time is done,
Becomes his portion as a fon.
Ah me! the sweet infus'd defires,
The fervid wishes, holy fires,
Which thus a melted heart refine,
Such are his, and fuch be mine,
From hence defpifing all befides
That earth reveals, or ocean hides;
All that men in either prize,
On God alone he fets his eyes.
From hence his hope is on the wings,
His health renews, his fafety fprings,
His glory blazes up below,

And all the streams of comfort flow.
He calls his Saviour King above,
Lord of mercy, Lord of love;
And finds a kingly care defend,
And mercy fmile, and love descend,
To cheer, to guide him in the ways
Of this vain world's deceitful maze :
And though the wicked earth display
Its terrors in their fierce array;
Or gape fo wide that horror fhows
Its hell replete with endless woes;
Such fuccour keeps him clear of ill,
Still firm to good, and dauntless still.
So, fix'd by Providence's hands,
A rock anidft an ocean ftands;
So bears, without a trembling dread,
The tempeft beating round its head;
And with its fide repels the wave,
Whofe hollow feems a coming grave:
The skies, the deeps, are heard to roar ;
The rock ftands fettled as before.

I, all with whom he has to do,
Admire the life which bleffes you,
That feeds a foe, that aids a friend,
Without a bye designing end;
Its knowing real intereft lies
On the bright fide of yonder skies,
Where, having made a title fair,

It mounts, and leaves the world to care.
While he that feeks for pleasing days,
In earthly joys and evil ways,
Is but the fool of toil or fame,
(Though happy be the spacious name)

THE WAY TO HAPPINESS,

How long, ye miferable blind,
Shall idle dreams engage your mind;
How long the paffions make their flight
At empty fazdows of delight,
No more in paths of error ftray,
The Lord thy Jefus is the way,
The spring of happiness, and where
Should men feek happiness but there!
Then run to meet him at your need,
Run with boldness, run with speed,
For he forfook his own abode

To meet thee more than half the road.
He laid afide his radiant crown,
And love for mankind brought him down
To thirst and hunger pain and woe,
To wounds, to death itself below;
And he, that fuffer'd thefe alone
For all the world, defpifes none.
To bid the foul, that's fick, be clean,
To bring the loft to life again ;
To comfort those that grieve for ill,
Is his peculiar goodness ftill.
And, as the thoughts of parents rum
Upon a dear and only fon,

So kind a love his mercies fhow,

So kind and more extremely fo.

Thrice happy men! (or find a phrase That speaks your blifs with greater praise} Who most obedient to thy call, Leaving pleasures, leaving all,

With heart, with foul, with ftrength incline,
O sweetest Jefu! to be thine.

Who know thy will, obferve thy ways,
And in thy service spend their days:
Ev'n death, that feems to fet them free,
But brings them closer still to thee.

THE CONVERT'S LOVE.

BLESSED light of faints on high,
Who fill the manfions of the fky;
Sure defence, whofe mercy ftill
Preferves thy fubjects here from ill;
Oh, my Jefus! make me know
How to pay the thanks I owe.

As the fond fheep that idly ftrays,
With wanton play, through winding way,
Which never hits the road of home,
O'er wilds of danger learns to roam,
Till, wearied out with idle fear,
And paffing there, and turning here,
He will, for reft, to covert run,
And meet the wolf he wish'd to fhun.
Thus wretched I, through wanton will,
Run blind and headlong on in ill:
'Twas thus from fin to fin I flew,
And thus I might have perish'd too;

But mercy dropt the likenefs here,

And fhew'd, and fav'd me from my fear.
While o'er the darkness of my mind
The facred fpirit purely fhin'd,
And mark'd and brighten'd all the way
Which leads to everlasting day;
And broke the thickening clouds of fin,
And fix'd the light of love within.

From hence my ravish'd soul aspires,
And dates the rise of its defires.
From hence to thee, my God! I turn,
And fervent wishes fay I burn;
I burn, thy glorious face to fee,
And live in endless joy with thee.

There's no fuch ardent kind of flame
Between the lover and the dame;
Nor fuch affection parents bear
To their young and only heir,
Though, join'd together, both conspire,
And boast a doubled force of fire,
My tender heart, within its feat,
Diffolves before the scorching heat;
As softening wax is taught to ran
Before the warminefs of the fun.

Oh, my flame, my pleasing pain,
Burn and purify my stain,
Warm me, burn me, day by day,
TH

Till you purge my earth away;
Till at the laft I throughly fhine,
And turn a torch of love divine.

A DESIRE TO PRAISE,

PROPITIOUS Son of God, to thee,
With all my foul, I bend my knee;
My wish I fend, my want impart,
And dedicate my mind and heart:
For, as an abfent parent's fon,
Whofe second year is only run,
When no protecting friend is near,
Void of wit, and void of fear,

With things that hurt him fondly plays,
Or here he falls, or there he flrays;
So, fhould my foul's eternal guide,
The facred Spirit he deny'd,

Thy fervant foon the lofs would know,
And fink in fin, or run to woe.

O, Spirit bountifully kind,
Warm, poffefs, and fill my mind;
Difperfe my fins with light divine,

And raise the flames of love with thine;
Before thy pleasures rightly priz'd,
Let wealth and honour be despis'd;
And let the Father's glory be
More dear than life itfelf to me.
Sing of Jefus Virgins, fing

Him, your everlasting King!
Sing of Jefus ! cheerful youth,
Him, the God of love and truth!
Write, and raise a fong divine,

Or come and hear, and borrow mine.

Son eternal, Word fupreme,
Who made the universal frame,
Heaven, and all its fhining show,
Earth, and all it holds below:
Bow with mercy, bow thine ear,
While we fing thy praifes here;
Son Eternal, ever bless'd,
Refting on the Father's breast,
Whofe tender love for all provides,
Whose power over all prefides;
Bow with pity, bow thine ear;
While we fing thy praifes, hear!
Thou, by pity's foft extreme,
Mov'd, and won, and fet on flame,
Affum'd the form of man, and fell
In pains, to rescue man from hell;
How bright thine humble glories rife,
And match the luftre of the skies,
From death and hell's dejected state
Arifing, thou resum'd thy feat,
And golden thrones of blifs prepar'd
Above, to be thy faints' reward.

How bright thy glorious honours rise,
And with new luftre grace the skies!
For thee, the sweet seraphic choir
Raife the voice, and tune the lyre,
And praises with harmonious found
Through all the highest heaven rebound.
O make our notes with theirs agree,
And bless the fouls that fing of thee!
To thee the churches here rejoice,
The folemn organs aid the voice:
To facred roofs the found we raise,
The facred roofs refound thy praise :
And while our notes in one agree,
O. blefs the church that fings to thee!

ON HAPPINESS IN THIS LIFE. THE morning opens, very freshly gay, And life itfelf is in the month of May. With green my fancy paints an arbour o'er, And flowerets with a thousand colours more; Then falls to weaving that, and spreading thefe, And foftly fhakes them with an easy breeze. With golden fruit adorns the bending shade, Or trails a filver water o'er its bed. Glide, gentle water, ftill more gently by, While in this fummer-bower of blifs I lie, And fweetly fing of fenfe-delighting flames, And nymphs and fhepherds, loft invented names; Or view the branches which around me twine, And praise their fruit, diffufing sprightly wine; Or find new pleasures in the world to praise, And still with this return adorn my lays; "Range round your gardens of eternal fpring, "Go, range my fenfes, while I fweetly fing:" In vain, in vain, alas! feduc'd by ill, And acted wildly by the force of will! I tell my foul, it will be constant May, And charm a feafon never made to ftay;

My beauteous arbour will not stand a storm,
The world but promifes, and can't perform :
Then fade, ye leaves; and wither, all ye flowers;
I'll doat no longer in enchanted bowers;
But fadly mourn, in melancholy fong,

The vain conceits that held my foul fo long.
The lufts that tempt us with delusive show,
And fin brought forth for everlasting woe.
Thus fhall the notes to forrow's object rife,
While frequent refts procure a place for fighs;
And, as I moan upon the naked plain,
Be this the burthen clofing every strain :
Return, my fenfes; range no more abroad;
He'll only find his blifs who feeks for God.

ECSTACY.

THE fleeting joys, which all affords below,
Work the fond heart with unperforming fhow;
The wish that makes our happier life complete,
Nor grafps the wealth nor honours of the great,
Nor loosely fails on pleasure's easy stream;
Nor gathers wreaths from all the groves of fame;
Weak man, whofe charms to thefe alone confine,
Attend my prayer, and learn to make it thine.
From thy rich throne, where circling trains of
light

Make day that's endlefs, infinitely bright;
Thence, heavenly Father thence with mercy dart
One beam of brightness to my longing heart.
Dawn through the mind, drive error's clouds away,
And still the rage in paffion's troubled sea;
That the poor banish'd foul. ferene and free,
May rife from earth, to visit heaven and thee:
Come, peace divine hed gently from above,
Inspire my willing b. fom, wondrous love;
Thy purpled pinions to my fhoulders tie,
And point the paffage where I want to fly.

But whither, whither now what powerful fire
With this blefs'd influence equals my defire?
I rife (or love, the kind deluder, reigns,
And acts in fancy fuch enchanted fcencs);
Earth leffening fiics, the parting fkirs retreat,
The fleecy clouds my waving feathers beat;
And now the fun and now the ftars are gone,
Yet ftill methinks the fpirit bears me on,
Where tracts of æther purer blue difplay,
And edge the golden realm of native day.
Oh, strange enjoyment of a blifs unfcen!
Oh, ravishment! Oh, facred rage within!
Tumultuous pieafure, rais'd on peace of mind,
Sincere, exceflive, from the world refin'd!
I fee the light that veils the throne on high,
A light unpierc'd by man's impurer eye;
I hear the words, that iffuing thence proclaim,
"Let God's attendants praile his awful name!"
Then heads unnumber'd bend before the fhrine,
Myfterious feat of Majelly divine!

And hands unnumber'd frike the filver firing,
And tongues unnumber'd hallelujah fing.
See, where the fhining feraphime appear,
And fink their decent eyes with holy fear.

See flights of angels all their feathers raife, And range the orbs, and, as they range, they praise;

Behold the great apoftles! fweetly met,

And high on pearls of azure æther fet.
Behold the prophets, full of heavenly fire,
With wandering finger wake the trembling lyre;
And hear the martyrs' tune, and all around
The church triumphant makes the region found.
With harps of gold, with boughs of ever-green,
With robes of white, the pious throngs are feen;
Exalted anthems all their hours employ,
And all is mufic, and excess of joy.

Charm'd with the fight, I long to bear a part;
The pleasure flutters at my ravish'd heart.
Sweet faints and angels of the heavenly choir,
If love has warm'd you with celeftial fire,
Affift my words, and. as they move along,
With hallelujahs crown the burthen'd song.
Father of all above, and all below,

O great, and far beyond expression so;

No bounds thy knowledge, none thy power confine, For power and knowledge in their fource are thine;

Around thee glory fpreads her golden wing:
Sing, glittering angels, hallelujah fing.

Son of the Father, firft begotten Son,
Ere the fhort measuring line of time begun,
The world has feen thy works, and joy'd to fee
The bright effulgence manifeft in thee.

The world muft own thee love's unfathom'd fpring;

Sing, glittering angels, hallelujah fing.
Proceeding spirit, equally divine,

In whom the Godhead's full perfections fhine,
With various graces, comforts unexprefs'd,
With holy transports you refine the breast;
And earth is heavenly where your gifts you bring,
Sing, glittering angels, hallelujah sing.

But where's my rapture, where my wondrous
heat,

What interruption makes my blifs retreat?
This world's got in, the thoughts of t' other's croft,
And the gay picture's in my fancy loft.
With what an eager zeal the confcious foul
Would claim its feat, and, foaring, pafs the pole !
But our attempts thefe chains of earth restrain,
Deride our toil, and drag us down again.
So from the ground afpiring meteors go,
And, rank'd with planets. light the world below;
But their own bodies fink them in the sky,
When the warmth's gone that taught them how
to fly.

ON DIVINE LOVE;

BY MEDITATING ON

THE WOUNDS OF CHRIST,

HOLY Jefus! God of love!
Look with pity from above;
Shed the precious purple tide.
From thine hands, thy feet, thy fide;

Let thy ftreams of comfort roll,
Let them please and fill my foul.
Let me thus for ever be
Full of gladrefs, full of thee.
This, for which my wishes pine,
Is the cup of love divine;
Sweet affections flow from hence,
Sweet, above the joys of fenfe;
Beffed philtre! how we find
Its facred worships how the mind,
Of all the world forgetful grown,
Can defpife an earthly throne;
Raise its thoughts to realms above,
Think of God, and fing of love.

Love celestial, wondrous heat,
O, beyond expreffion great!
What refifties charms were thine,
In thy good, thy best design!
When God was hated, fin obey'd,
And man undone without thy aid,
From the feats of endless peace

They brought the Son, the Lord of Grace;
They taught him receive a irth,
To clothe in flesh, to live on earth;
And after, lifted him on high,

And taught him on the crofs to die.
Love celeftial, ardent fire,

O, extreme of sweet defire!
Spread thy brightly raging flame
Through and over all my framé;
Let it warm me, let it burn,
Let my corpfe to ashes turn;

And, might thy flame thus act with me
To fet the foul from body free,

I next would afe thy wings, and fly
To meet my Jefus in the sky.

ON QUEEN ANNE'S PEACE.

WRITTEN IN DECEMBER 1712.

MOTHER of plenty, daughter of the skies, Sweet peace, the troubled world's defire, arife; Around thy poet weave thy fummer fhades, Within my fancy fpread thy flowery meads; Amongst thy train foft cafe and pleasure bring, And thus indulgent footh nie whilft I fing.

Great Anna claims the fong; no brighter name Adorns the lift of never-dying fame; No fairer foul was ever form'd above; None e'er was more the grateful nation's love, Nor lov'd the nation more. I fly with speed To fing fuch lines as Bolingbroke may read, On war difpers'd, on faction trampled down, On all the peaceful glories of the crown. And, if I fail in too confin'd a flight, May the kind world upon my labours write, "So fell the lines which ftrove for endlefs fame, "Yet fell, attempting on the nobleft theme."

1

Now twelve revolving years has Britain stood, With lofs of wealth, and vaft expence of blood, Europa's guardian; ftill her gallant arms. Secur'd Európa from impending harms.

Fair honour, full fuccefs, and just applause,
Pursued her marches, and adorn'd her caufe;
Whilft Gaul, aspiring to erect a throne
O'er other empires, trembled for her own;
Bemoan'd her cities won, her armies flain,
And fank the thought of universal reign.

When thus reduc'd the world's invaders lie, The fears which rack'd the nations justly die ; Power finds its balance, giddy motions ceafe In both the scales, and each inclines to peace. This fair occafion Providence prepares, To answer pious Anna's hourly prayers, Which fill on warm devotion's wings arofe, And, reaching heaven, obtain'd the world's repofe,

Within the vast expansion of the fky, Where orbs of gold in fields of azure lie, A glorious palace fhines, whofe filver ray, Serenely flowing, lights the milky way; The road of angels. Here, with speedy care, The fum non'd guardians of the world repair. When Britain's angel, on the meffage fent,. Speaks Anna's prayers, and Heaven's fupreme

intent;

That war' deftructive arm fhould humble Gaul,
Sain's parted realms to different monarchs fall;
The grand alliance crown'd with glory cease,
And joyful Europe find the fweets of peace.
He fpoke the fmiling hopes of man's repofe,
The jo that fprings from certain hopes arose,
Diffufive o'er the place; complacent airs,
sedately fweet, were heard within the spheres;
And, bowing, all adore the fovereign mind,
And fly to execute the work design'd.

This done, the guardian on the wing repairs,
Where Anna fate, revolving public cares
With deep concern of thought. Unfeen he stood,
Prefenting peaceful images of good;

On fancy's airy ftage, returning trade,
A funk exchequer fill'd, an army paid:
The fields with men, the men with plenty blefs'd,
The towns with riches, and the world with rest.
Such pleasing objects on her bofom play,
And give the dawn of glory's golden day;
When all her labours at their harvest shown
Shall, in her fubjects' joy, complete her own.
Then breaking filence; 'Tis enough, the cries,
That war has rag'd to make the nations wife.
Heaven profpers armies whilst they fight to save,
And thirst of further fame destroys the brave;
The vanquish'd Gauls are humbly pleas'd to live,
And but escap'd the chains they meant to give.
Now let the powers be ftill'd, and each poffefs'à
Of what fecures the common fafety best.

So fpake the queen; then, fill'd with warmth divine,

She call'd her Oxford to the grand defign;
Her Oxford, prudent in affairs of state,
Profoundly thoughtful, manifeftly great
In every turn, whofe fteady temper fteers
Above the reach of gold, or shock of fears;
Whom no blind chance, but merit understood,
By frequent trials, power of doing good,
And will to execute, advanc'd on high:

Oh, foul created to deferve the sky!