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My native meanness I lament,

Though most divinely fillid
With all the ineffable content

That Deity can yield.
His purpose and his course he keeps ;

Treads all my reasonings down;
Commands me out of nature's deeps,

And hides me in his own.

When in the dust, its proper place,

Our pride of heart we lay ; 'Tis then a deluge of his grace

Bears all our fins away.

Thou whom I serve, and whose I am,

Whose influence from on high Refines, and still refines my flame,

And makes my fetters fly.

How wretched is the creature's state

Who thwarts thy gracious power ; Crush'd under sin's enormous weight,

Increasing every hour!
The night, when pass’d entire with thee,

How luminous and clear !
Then sleep has no delights for me,

Left thou shouldst disappear.
My Saviour! occupy me still

In this secure recess;
Let reason slumber if she will,

My joy shall not be less :

Let Reason slumber out the night;

But if thou deign to make
My soul the abode of Truth and Light,

Ah, keep my heart awake!

32. THE yor OF THE CROSS.

ONG plunged in sorrow, I resign
My soul to that dear hand of thine,

Without reserve or fear;
That hand shall wipe my streaming eyes;
Or into smiles of glad surprise

Transform the falling tear.

My sole poffeffion is thy love;
In earth beneath, or heaven above,

I have no other store;
And though with fervent suit I pray,
And importune thee night and day,

I ask thee nothing more.
My rapid hours pursue the course
Prescribed them by Love's sweetest force;

And I thy sovereign will,
Without a wish to escape my doom;
Though still a sufferer from the womb,

And doom'd to suffer still.

a

By thy command, where'er I stray,
Sorrow attends me all my way,

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A never failing friend;
And if my sufferings may augment
Thy praise, behold me well content-

Let Sorrow ftill attend !

It costs me no regret, that she,
Who follow'd Christ, should follow me;
And though, where'er she

goes,
Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet,
I love her, and extract a sweet
From all

my

bitter woes.

Adieu !

ye vain delights of earth; Insipid sports and childish mirth,

I taste no sweets in you; Unknown delights are in the Cross, All joy beside to me is dross ;

And Jesus thought so too.

The Cross ! Oh ravishment and bliss
How grateful e'en its anguish is,

Its bitterness how sweet!
There every sense, and all the mind,
In all her faculties refined,

Tastes happiness complete.

Souls once enabled to disdain
Base sublunary joys, maintain

Their dignity secure;
The fever of desire is pass’d,
And love has all its genuine taste,

Is delicate and pure.

Self-love no grace in sorrow sees,
Consults her own peculiar ease ;

'Tis all the bliss she knows :
But nobler aims true Love employ;
In self-denial is her joy,

In suffering her repose.

Sorrow and Love

go

side by side ; Nor height nor depth can e'er divide

Their heaven-appointed bands; Those dear associates still are one, Nor till the race of life is run

Disjoin their wedded hands.

Jesus, avenger of our fall,
Thou faithful lover, above all

The Cross has ever borne!
Oh tell me,-life is in thy voice--
How much afflictions were thy choice,

And sloth and ease thy scorn!

Thy choice and mine shall be the same,
Inspirer of that holy flame

Which must for ever blaze!
To take the Cross and follow thee,
Where love and duty lead, shall be

My portion and my praise.

33. yor IN MARTYRDOM.

WEET tenants of this grove !

Who sing, without design,

A song of artless love, In unison with mine: These echoing shades return

Full many a note of ours, That wise ones cannot learn,

With all their boasted powers.

0 Thou ! whose sacred charms

These hearts so seldom love, Although thy beauty warms

And blesses all above; How slow are human things,

To choose their happiest lot; All-glorious King of kings,

Say why we love thee not?

This heart, that cannot rest,

Shall thine for ever prove; Though bleeding and distress’d,

Yet joyful in thy love : 'Tis happy, though it breaks

Beneath thy chastening hand; And speechless, yet it speaks

What thou canst understand.

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