SECTION III.

The Believer wading through deeps of desertion and corruption.

LORD, when thy face thou hid'st,

And leav'st me long to plore,

I faithless doubt of all thou didst
And wrought'st for me before.
No marks of love I find,

No grains of grace, but wracks;
No track of heav'n is left behind,
No groan, no smoking flax.

But say if all the gusts

And grains of love be spent,
Say, Farewell Christ, and welcome lusts;
Stop, stop, I melt, I faint.

Lord, yet thou hast my heart,
This bargain black I hate ;

I dare not, cannot, will not part
With thee at such a rate.

Once, like a father good,

Thou didst with grace perfume;

Wast thou a father to conclude
With dreadful judge's doom?
Confirm thy former deed,

Reform what is defil'd;

I was, I am, I'll still abide

Thy choice, thy charge, thy child.

Love-seals thou didst impart,
Lock'd in mind I have;

up

Hell cannot rase out of my heart

What Heav'n did there ingrave.

Thou once didst make me whole,
By thy almighty hand;

Thou mad'st me vow and gift my soul;
Both vow and gift shall stand.

Bnt since my folly gross

My joyful cup did spill,
Make me the captive of thy cross,
Submissive to thy will.

Self in myself I hate,

That's matter of my groan ;
Nor can I rid me from the mate
That causes me to moan.

O frail, unconstant flesh!
Soon trapt in every gin;

Soon turn'd, o'erturn'd, and so afresh
Plung'd in the gulph of sin.

Shall I be slave to sin,

My Lord's most bloody foe? I feel its pow'rful sway within, How long shall it be so.

How long, Lord, shall I stay?
How long in Mesech here?
Dishon'ring thee from day to day,
Whose name's to me so dear.

While sin, Lord, breeds my grief,
And makes me sadly pine;

With blinks of grace O grant relief,
Till beams of glory shine.

Complaint of sin, sorrow, and want of love.

IF

F black doom by desert should go, Then, Lord, my due desert is death; Which robs from souls immortal joy, And from their bodies mortal breath,

But in so great a Saviour,

Can e'er so base a worm's annoy Add any glory to thy pow'r,

Or any gladness to thy joy?

Thou justly mayst me doom to death,
And everlasting flames of fire ;
But on a wretch to pour thy wrath
Can never sure be worth thine ire,

Since Jesus the atonement was,

Let tender mercy me release;
Let him be umpire of my cause,
And pass the gladsome doom of peace.

Let grace forgive, and love forget
My base, my vile apostasy;
And temper thy deserved hate

With love and mercy toward me.

The ruffling winds and raging blasts
Hold me in constant cruel chase;
They break my anchors, sails, and masts,
Allowing no reposing place.

The boist❜rous seas with swelling floods
On ev'ry side against me fight..
Heav'n, overcast with stormy clouds,
Dims all the planet's guiding light.

The hellish furies lie in wait

To win my soul into their pow'r; To make me bite at ev'ry bait,

And thus my killing bane devour.
I lie enchain'd in sin and thrall,
Next border unto black despair;
Till grace restore, and of my fail
The doleful ruins all repair.

My hov'ring thoughts would flee to glore,
And nestle safe above the sky;
Fain would my tumbling ship ashore
At that sure anchor quiet lie.

But mounting thoughts are hailed down
With heavy poise of corrupt load;
And blust'ring storms deny with frown
An harbour of secure abode.

To drown the wight that wakes the blast,
Thy sin-subduing grace afford;
The storm might cease, could I but cast
This troublous Jonah over-board.

Base flesh, with fleshly pleasures gain'd,
Sweet grace's kindly suit declines;
When mercy courts me for its friend,
Anon my sordid flesh repines.

Soar up, my soul, to Tabor hill,

Cast off this lothsome pressing load;

Long is the date of thine exile,

While absent from thy Lord, thy God.

Dote not on earthly weeds and toys, Which do not, cannot suit thy taste: The flow'rs of everlasting joys

Grow up apace for thy repast.

R

Sith that the glorious God above
In Jesus bears a love to thee:
How base, how brutish is thy love
Of any being less than he?

Who for thy love did chose thy grief,
Content in love to live and die:

Who lov'd thy love more than his life,
And with his life thy love did buy.

Since then the God of richest love
With thy poor love enamour'd is;
How high a crime will thee reprove,
If not enamour'd deep with his?
Since on the verdant field of grace
His love does thine so hot pursue ;
Let love meet love with chaste embrace,
Thy mite a thousand-fold is due.

Rise, love, thou early heav'n, and sing,
Young little dawn of endless day;
I'll on thy mounting fiery wing
In joyful raptures melt away.

SECTION

V.

The deserted soul's prayer for the Lord's gracious and

Κ'

sin-subduing presence.

IND Jesus, come in love to me,

And make no longer stay;

Or else receive my soul to thee,
That breathes to be away.

A Lazar at thy gate I lie,

As well it me becomes,