When in the filent womb my fhape was made,
And from the womb to lightfome life convey'd,
Curs'd fin began to take unhappy root,
And through my veins its early fibres fhoot;
And then, what goodness didst thou fhew, to kill
The rifing weeds, and principles of ill;
When to my breast, in fair celeftial flame,
Eternal Truth and lovely Wisdom came,
Bright gift, by fimple Nature never got,
But here reveal'd to change the ancient blot.
This wondrous help which Mercy pleas'd to grant,
Continue ftill, for ftill thine aid I want ;
And, as the men whom leprofies invade,
Or they that touch the carcafe of the dead,
With hyffop fprinkled, and by water clean'd,
Their former pureness in the law, regain'd;
So purge my foul, difeas'd, alas! within,
And much polluted with dead works of fin.
For fuch blefs'd favours at thine hand I fue,
grace thine hyffop, and thy water too. Then shall my whiteness for perfection vie
With blanching fnows that newly leave the sky.
Thus, through my mind, thy voice of gladness fend,
Thus fpeak the joyful word, I will be clean'd;
That all my strength, confum'd with mournful pain,
May, by thy faving health, rejoice again :
And now no more my foul offences see,
O turn from thefe, but turn thee not from me ;
Or, left they make me too deform'd a fight,
Oh, blot them with Oblivion's endless night.
Then further purenefs to thy fervant grant,
Another heart, or change in this, I want.
Create another, or the change create,
For now my vile corruption is fo great,
It feems a new creation to restore
Its fall'n eftate to what it was before.
Renew my fpirit, raging in my breast,
And all its paffions in their course arreft;
Or turn their motions, widely gone aftray,
And fix their footsteps in thy righteous way;
When this is granted, when again I 'm whole,
Oh ne'er withdraw thy prefence from my foul:
There let it fhine, fo let me be restor'd
To prefent joy, which confcious hopes afford.
There let it sweetly fhine, and o'er my breast,
Diffuse the dawning of eternal rest ;
Then fhall the wicked this compaffion fee,
And learn thy worship, and thy works, from me.
For I, to fuch occafions of thy praife,
Will tune my lyre, and confecrate my lays.
Unfeal my lips, where guilt and shame have hung,
To stop the paffage of my grateful tongue,
And let my prayer and fong ascend, my prayer
Here join'd with faints, my fong with angels there;.
Yet neither prayer I'd give, nor fongs alone,
If either offerings were as much thy own :
But thine 's the contrite fpirit, thine 's an heart
Opprefs'd with forrow, broke with inward fmart;
That at thy footstool in confeffion fhews,
How well its faults, how well the judge it knows;
That fin with fober refolution flies,
This gift thy mercy never will defpife.
Then in my foul a mystic altar rear,
And fuch a facrifice I'll offer there.
There hall it ftand, in vows of virtue bound,
There falling tears shall wash it all around;
And sharp remorfe, yet fharper edg'd by woe,
Deferv'd and fear'd, inflict the bleeding blow;
There fhall my thoughts to holy breathings fly,
.Inftead of incenfe, to perfume the sky,
And thence my willing heart afpires above,
A victim panting in the flames of love.
AS through the Pfalms, from theme to theme, I chang'd,
Methinks like Eve in Paradise Lrang'd;
And every grace of fong I seem'd to see,
As the gay pride of every season the;
She, gently treading all the walks around,
Admir'd the fpringing beauties of the ground,
The lily, gliftering with the morning dew,
The rofe in red, the violet-in blue,
The pink in pale, the bells in purple rows,
And tulips colour'd in a thousand shows :
Then here and there perhaps the pull'd a flower,
To ftrew with mofs, and paint her leafy bower ;
And here and there, like her, I went along,
Chofe a bright ftrain, and bid it deck my fong.
But now the facred Singer leaves mine eye,
Crown'd as he was, I think he mounts on high;
Ere this devotion bore his heavenly Pfalms,
And now himself bears up his harp and palms.
Go, faint triumphant, leave the changing fight,
So fitted out, you suit the realms of light;
But let thy glorious robe at parting go,
Thofe realms have robes of more effulgent fhow;
It flies, it falls, the fluttering filk I see;
Thy fon has caught it, and he sings like thee,
With fuch election of a theme divine,
And fuch fweet grace, as conquers all but thine.
Hence every writer o'er the fabled streams,
Where frolic fancies fport with idle dreams;
Or round the fight enchanted clouds dispose,
Whence wanton Cupids shoot with gilded bows,
A nobler writer, ftrains more brightly wrought,
Themes more exalted, fill my wondering thought:
The parted skies are track'd with flames above,
As love defcends to meet ascending love;
The feafons flourish where the spouses meet,
And earth in gardens spreads beneath their feet;
This fresh-bloom prospect in the bofom throngs,
When Solomon begins his fong of fongs,
Bids the wrapt foul to Lebanon repair,
And lays the fcene of all his actions there ;
Where as he wrote, and from the bower furvey'd
The fcenting groves, or anfwering knots he made,
His facred art the fights of nature brings,
Beyond their ufe, to figure heavenly things."
"Great Son of God! whofe gofpel pleas'd to throw Round thy rich glory veils of earthly show; Who made the vineyard oft thy church design, Who made the marriage-feast a type of thine; verfes, which attempt to trace
The fhadow'd beauties of celeftial grace,
And with illapfes of feraphic fire
The work which pleas'd thee once, once more inspire.
Look, or Illufion's airy visions draw,
Or now I walk the gardens which I saw,
Where filver waters feed a flowering spring,
And winds falute it with a balmy wing.
There, on a bank, whofe fhades directly rife,
To fcreen the fun, and not exclude the fkies,
There fits the facred church; methinks I view
The fpoufe's afpect, and her enfigns too.
Her face has features where the Virtues reign,
Her hands the book of facred Love contain,
A light (Truth's emblem) on her bofom fhines,
And at her fide the meekeft lamb reclines:
And oft on heavenly lectures in the book,
And oft on heaven itself the cafts a look,
Sweet, humble, fervent zeal, that works within,
At length burfts forth, and raptures thus begin:
Let Him, that Him my foul adores above,
In close communions breathe his holy love;
For these blefs'd words his pleafing lips impart,
Beyond all cordials, chear the fainting heart.
As rich and fweet the precious ointments stream,
So rich thy graces flow, fo fweet thy name
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