Swoln with self-will, and principled with pride,
Sense all her good, and passion all her guide:
Pleasure its tide, and flattery lends its breath,
And smoothly waft her to eternal death!

A goddess here, she sees her votaries meet, Crowd to her shrine, and tremble at her feet; She hears their vows, believes their life and death Hangs on the wrath and mercy of her breath; Supreme in fancied state she reigns her hour, And glories in her plenitude of power: Herself the only object worth her care, Since all the kneeling world was made for her.

For her creation all its stores displays, The silkworms labour, and the diamonds blaze: Air, earth, and sea conspire to tempt her taste, And ransacked nature furnishes the feast. Life's gaudiest pride attracts her willing eyes, And balls, and theatres, and courts arise: Italian songsters pant her ear to please, Bid the first cries of infant reason cease, Save her from thought, and lull her soul to peace.

Deep sunk in sense th' imprisoned soul remains, Nor knows its fall from God, for feels its chains: Unconscious still, sleeps on in error's night, Nor strives to rise, nor struggles into light; Heaven-born in vain, degenerate cleaves to earth, (No pangs experienced of the second birth) She only fall'n, yet unawakened found,

While all th' enthralled creation goans around.

HYMN.

THAT "I am thine, my Lord and God:
Sprinkled and ransomed by thy blood,”-
Repeat that word once more!

With such an energy and light,
That this world's flattery nor spite
To shake me never may have

power.

From various cares my heart retires;
Though deep and boundless its desires,
I'm now to please but one:
He, before whom the elders bow,
With him is all my business now,

And with the souls that are his own.

This is my joy (which ne'er can fail,)
To see my Saviour's arm prevail;
To mark the steps of grace:
How new-born souls convinced of sin,
His blood revealed to them within,
Extol my Lamb in every place.

With these my happy lot is cast!
Through the world's deserts rude and waste,

Or through its gardens fair;
Whether the storm of malice sweeps,
Or all in dead supineness sleeps ;

Still to go on be

my

whole care.

See! the deer sheep by Jesus drawn,
In blest simplicity move on;

They trust his shepherd's crook:
Beholders many faults will find,
But they can guess at Jesus' mind,
Content, if written in his book.

O all ye wise, ye rich, ye just,
Who the blood's doctrine have discuss'd,
And judge it weak and slight:
Grant but I may (the rest's your own)
In shame and poverty sit down

At this one well-spring of delight!

Indeed if Jesus ne'er was slain,
Or ought can make his ransom vain,
That now it heals no more;

If his heart's tenderness is fled;
If of a church he is not head,

Nor Lord of all, as heretofore:

Then, (so refers my state to him)
Unwarranted I must esteem,

And wretched all I do

Ah, my heart throbs! and seizes fast
That covenant which will ever last;

It knows, it knows these things are true.

No, my dear Lord, in following thee,

Not in the dark uncertainty

This foot obedient moves;

'Tis with a Brother and a King, Who many to his yoke will bring, Who ever lives and ever loves.

Now then, my Way, my Truth, my Life!
Henceforth let sorrow, doubt and strife,
Drop off like autumn leaves;
Henceforth, as privileged by thee,
Simple and undistracted be

My soul, which to thy sceptre cleaves.

Let me my weary mind recline
On that eternal love of thine,
And human thoughts forget;
Childlike attend what thou wilt say;
Go forth and do it while 'tis day,
Yet never leave my sweet retreat.

At all times to my spirit bear
An inward witness, soft and clear,
Of thy redeeming power:
This will instruct thy child and fit,
Will sparkle forth whate'er is right,
For exigence of every hour.

Thus all the sequel is well weighed !
I cast myself upon thy aid,

A sea where none can sink;

Yea, in that sphere I stand, poor worm! Where thou wilt for thy name perform Beyond whate'er I ask or think.

HYMN.

O TELL me no more

Of this world's vain store;

The time for such trifles with me now is o'er.

A country I've found,

Where true joys abound;

To dwell I'm determined on that happy ground.

The souls that believe

In paradise live:

And me in that number will Jesus receive.

My soul, don't delay,
He calls thee away!

Rise, follow thy Saviour, and bless the glad day.

No mortal doth know
What he can bestow,

What light, strength, and comfort: go after him, go!

Lo! onward I move,

And but Christ above

None guesses, how wondrous my journey will prove.

Great spoils I shall win

From death, hell, and sin;

'Midst outward afflictions, shall feel Christ within.