OW long, ye miserable blind,
Shall idle dreams engage your mind;
How long the paffions make their flight
At empty shadows of delight.
No more in paths of error stray,
The Lord thy Jefus is the way,
The fpring of happinefs, 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 run
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,
Ofweetest Jefu! to be thine.
Who know thy will, observe thy ways,
And in thy service spend their days :
Ev'n death, that feems to fet them free,
But brings them closer ftill to thee.
THE CONVERT'S LOVE.
LESSED light of faints on high,
Who fill the manfions of the iky;
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 sheep that idly ftrays,
With wanton play, through winding ways,
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 ili:
"Twas thus from fin to fin I flew,
And thus I might have perish'd too;
But mercy dropt the likeness here,
And shew'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 foul afpires,
And dates the rife 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 confpire,
And boast a doubled force of fire,
My tender heart, within its feat,
Diffolves before the fcorching heat;
As foftening wax is taught to run
Before the warmnefs of the fun.
Oh, my flame, my pleafing pain,
Burn and purify my stain,
Warm me, burn me, day by day,
Till you purge my earth away;
Till at the last 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 fecond 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 ftrays;
So fhould my foul's eternal guide,
The facred spirit be deny'd,
Thy fervant foon the lofs would know,
And fink in fin, or run to woe.
O, fpirit bountifully kind,
Warm, poffefs, and fill my mind;
Difperfe my fins with light divine,
And raife the flames of love with thine;
Before thy pleafures rightly priz'd,
Let wealth and honour be defpis'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 chearful 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 univerfal frame,
Heaven, and all its shining show,
Earth, and all it holds below:
Bow with mercy, bow thine ear,
While we fing thy praises here;
Son Eternal, ever-bless'd,
Refting on the Father's breast,
Whofe tender love for all provides,
Whofe power over all prefides;
Bow with pity, bow thine ear;
While we fing thy praises, hear!
Thou, by pity's foft extreme,
Mov'd, and won, and set on flame,
Affum'd the form of man, and.fell
In pains, to rescue man from hell;
How bright thine humble glories rise,
And match the luftre of the skies,
From leath and hell's dejected state
Arifing, thou refum'd thy feat,
And golden thrones of bliss prepar'd
Above, to be thy faints' reward.
How bright. thy glorious honours rife,
And with new luftre grace the skies!
For thee, the fweet feraphic choir
Raife the voice, and tune the lyre, :
And praises with harmonious found
Through all the highest heaven rebound.
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