FORSAKEN, yet Ho PING.
HAPPY the hours, the golden days,
When I could call my Jefus mine,
And fit and view his smiling face,
And melt in pleasures all-divine.
Near to my heart, within my arms
He lay, till fin defil'd my breast,
Till broken vows, and earthly charms,
Tir'd and provok'd my heavenly guest.
And now He's gone, (O mighty woe!)
Gone from my foul, and hides his love!
Curfe on you, fins, that griev'd Him fo,
Ye fins, that forc'd him to remove.
Break, break, my heart; complain, my tongue:
Hither, my friends, your forrows bring:
Angels, assist my doleful song,
If you have e'er a mourning ftring.
But, ah! your joys are ever high,
Ever his lovely face you
While my poor spirits pant and die,
And groan, for Thee, my God, for Thee.
Yet let my hope look through my tears,
And spy afar his rolling throne ;
His chariot through the cleaving spheres
Shall bring the bright Beloved down.
Swift as a roe flies o'er the hills,
My foul fprings out to meet him high,
Then the fair Conqueror turns his wheels,
And climbs the monfions of the sky.
There fmiling joy for ever reigns,
No more the turtle leaves the dove ;
Farewell to jealoufies, and pains,
And all the ills of abfent love.
GOD exalted above all Praife.
ETERNAL Power! whofe high abode
Becomes the grandeur of a God;
Infinite length beyond the bounds
Where ftars revolve their little rounds.
The lowest step above thy feat
Rifes too high for Gabriel's feet,
In vain the tall Arch-angel tries
To reach thine height with wondering eyes.
Thy dazzling beauties whilft he fings,
He hides his face behind his wings;
And ranks of shining thrones around
Fall worshiping, and fpread the ground.
Lord, what fhall earth and ashes do!
We would adore our Maker too;
From fin and duft to thee we cry,
The Great, the Holy, and the High!
Earth from afar has heard the fame,
And worms have learnt to lifp thy name;
But O, the glories of thy mind
Leave all our foaring thoughts behind.
God is in heaven, and men below;
Be short, our tunes; our words be few;
A facred reverence checks our fongs,
And praise fits filent on our tongues.
"Tibi filet Laus, O Deus," Pfal. lxv. 1.,
The END of the FIRST BOOK.
Commands our love, and charms our hearts t'obey, Forgive the nation's groan when WILLIAM dy'd: Lo, at thy feet in all the royal pride
Of blooming joy, three happy realms appear,
And WILLIAM's urn almost without a tear
Stands; nor complains; while from thy gracious tongue
Peace flows in filver streams amidst the throng.
Amazing balm, that on those lips was found
To foothe the torment of that mortal wound,
And calm the wild affright! The terror dies,
The bleeding wound cements, the danger flies,
And Albion fhouts thine honours as her joys arife.
The German eagle feels her guardian dead,
Not her own thunder can fecure her head;
Her trembling eaglets haften from afar,
And Belgia's lion dreads the Gallick war:
All hide behind thy fhield. Remoter lands
Whofe lives lay trufted in Naffovian hands
Transfer their fouls, and live; fecure they play
In thy mild rays, and love the growing day.
Thy beamy wing at once defends and warms
Fainting religion, whilft in various forms
Fair piety fhines through the British ifles
Here at thy fide, and in thy kindest smiles*
Blazing in ornamental gold she stands,
To bless thy councils, and affift thy hands,
And crowds wait round her to receive commands.
There at a humble distance from the throne +
Beauteous the lies; her luftre all her own,
Ungarnish'd; yet not blufhing, nor afraid,
Nor knows fufpicion, nor affects the shade:
Chearful and pleas'd fhe not prefumes to share
In thy parental gifts, but owns thy guardian care.
For thee, dear fovereign, endless vows arise,
And zeal with earthly wing falutes the kies
To gain thy fafety: Here a folemn form *
Of ancient words keeps the devotion warm,
* The established church of England: The Proteftant Diffenters.
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