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Could I be caft where Thou art not,
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.

My country, Lord, art Thou alone;
Nor other can I claim or own;
The point where all my wishes meet;
My law, my love, life's only fweet!

I hold by nothing here below;
Appoint my journey, and I go;

Though pierced by scorn, opprefs'd by pride,
I feel thee good-feel nought befide.

No frowns of men can hurtful prove
To fouls on fire with heavenly Love;
Though men and devils both condemn,
No gloomy days arife from them.

Ah then! to His embrace repair;
My foul, thou art no ftranger there;
There Love divine fhall be thy guard,
And peace and fafety thy reward.

14. THE TESTIMONY OF DIVINE ADOPTION.

OW happy are the new-born race;
Partakers of adopting grace;

How pure the bliss they share!

Hid from the world and all its eyes,

Within their heart the bleffing lies,
And confcience feels it there.

The moment we believe, 'tis ours;
And if we love with all our powers
The God from whom it came;
And if we serve with hearts fincere,
'Tis ftill difcernible and clear,
An undisputed claim.

But, ah! if foul and wilful fin
Stain and dishonour us within,
Farewell the joy we knew;
Again the flaves of Nature's fway,
In labyrinths of our own we stray,
Without a guide or clue.

The chaste and pure, who fear to grieve
The gracious Spirit they receive,

His work diftinctly trace:
And, strong in undiffembling love,
Boldly affert and clearly prove
Their hearts his dwelling-place.

Oh meffenger of dear delight,
Whofe voice difpels the deepest night,
Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!
With thee at hand, to foothe our pains,
No wish unfatisfied remains,

No task but that of Love.

'Tis Love unites what Sin divides; The centre, where all bliss refides; To which the foul once brought,

Reclining on the first great Cause,
From his abounding sweetness draws
Peace pafling human thought.

Sorrow foregoes its nature there,
And life affumes a tranquil air,
Divefted of its woes;

There fovereign goodness soothes the breast,
Till then incapable of rest,

In facred fure repose.

15. DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL.

OVE is the Lord whom I obey, Whose will transported I perform; The centre of my reft, my stay, Love's all in all to me, myself a worm. For uncreated charms I burn, Opprefs'd by flavish fear no more; For One in whom I may difcern,

E'en when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.

He little loves Him who complains,
And finds him rigorous and fevere;

His heart is fordid, and he feigns,

Though loud in boasting of a soul sincere.

Love caufes grief, but 'tis to move
And ftimulate the flumbering mind;
And he has never tafted love

Who fhuns a pang fo graciously defign'd.

Sweet is the crofs, above all fweets,
To fouls enamour'd with thy fmiles;
The keenest woe life ever meets,
Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles.
'Tis juft that God fhould not be dear
Where felf engroffes all the thought,
And groans and murmurs make it clear,
Whatever else is loved, the Lord is not.
The love of Thee flows just as much
As that of ebbing self fubfides;
Our hearts, their scantiness is such,
Bear not the conflict of two rival tides.

Both cannot govern in one foul;
Then let felf-love be difpoffefs'd;

The Love of God deserves the whole,
And will not dwell with fo defpised a guest.

16. SELF-DIFFIDENCE.

OURCE of love, and light of day,
Tear me from myself away;

Every view and thought of mine

Caft into the mould of thine;

Teach, O teach this faithless heart
A confiftent constant part;
Or, if it must live to grow
More rebellious, break it now!

Is it thus that I requite
Grace and goodness infinite?

Every trace of every boon,

Cancel'd and erased so foon!

Can I grieve Thee, whom I love;
Thee, in whom I live and move?

If

my forrow touch thee ftill, Save me from fo great an ill!

Oh! the oppreffive, irksome weight
Felt in an uncertain ftate;
Comfort, peace, and rest adieu,
Should I prove at last untrue!
Still I choose thee, follow still
Every notice of thy will;
But, unstable, strangely weak,
Still let flip the good I feek.

Self-confiding wretch, I thought
I could ferve thee as I ought,
Win thee, and deferve to feel
All the Love thou canst reveal;
Trusting self, a bruised reed,
Is to be deceived indeed :

Save me from this harm and lofs,
Left my gold turn all to dross!

Self is earthly-Faith alone
Makes an unfeen world our own;
Faith relinquifh'd, how we roam,
Feel our way, and leave our home!
Spurious gems our hopes entice,
While we scorn the pearl of price;
And, preferring servants' pay,
Caft the children's bread away.

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