Not all thine heavenly charms, Nor terrors of thy hand, Could force me to lay down my arms, And bow to thy command. Lord, 'tis against thy face My fins like arrows rife, And yet, and yet (O matchlefs grace!) O fhall I never feel The meltings of thy love? O'ercome by dying love I fall, And throw my flesh, my foul, my all, "Rife, fays the Prince of Mercy, rife, "See my Great Father reconcil'd:" Young Young Men and Maidens, Old Men and Babes, praise ye the LORD, Pfal. cxlviii. 12. ONS of Adam, bold and young, SONS In the wild mazes of whofe veins A flood of fiery vigour reigns, And weilds your active limbs, with hardy sinews ftrung; Fall proftrate at th' eternal throne Whence your precarious powers depend; Nor fwell as if your lives were all your own, But choose your Maker for your friend; His favour is your life, his arm is your fupport, His hand can stretch your days, or cut your minutes short. Virgins, who roll your artful eyes, And melts our reafon down to fenfe; That heavenly bridegroom claims your blooming hours: O make it your perpetual care To please that Everlafting Fair; His beauties are the fun, and but the fhade is yours. Infants, whofe different deftinies Are wove with threads of different size; But But from the fame spring-tide of tears, (A tedious train!) and date your following years: Who wrought your wondrous frame: Ye heads of venerable age, Juft marching off the mortal stage, As long as e'er the glass of life would run, Through flowery fields a fair long fummer's day; Flying Fowl, and Creeping Things, praise ye the LORD, Pfal. cxlviiii. 10, Sw WEET flocks, whofe foft enamel'd wing Whofe charming notes address the spring With an artless harmony. Lovely minstrels of the field, Who in leafy fhadows fit, And your wondrous ftructures build, Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light: То To nature's God your first devotions pay, Ere you falute the rising day, 'Tis he calls up the fun, and gives him every ray. Serpents, who o'er the meadows flide, In harmless play twist and unfold 1 Infects and mites, of mean degree, Praife him that wears th' etherial crown, To defpicable worms. The COMPARISON and COMPLAINT. NFINITE Power, Eternal Lord, IN How sovereign is thy hand! All nature rofe t' obey thy word, With fteady course thy fhining fun Keeps his appointed way; And all the hours obedient run But ah! how wide my spirit flies, The raging fire, and ftormy fea, And every beast and every tree, While my wild paffions rage within, Nor thy commands obey; And flesh and fenfe, enflav'd to fin, Shall creatures of a meaner frame Great God, create my foul anew, Conform my heart to thine, Seize my whole frame into thy hand ; Then |