Spiritual songs, or, Songs of praise to Almighty God upon several occasions Together with the Song of Songs which is Solomons: [F]irst turn'd, then par[ap]hrased in English verse. To which may be added, Penitential cries.
         Mason, John, 1646?-1694.
      
       
         
           1699
        
      
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         A52174
         Wing M922A
         ESTC R217649
         99829304
         99829304
         33741
         
           
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             Spiritual songs, or, Songs of praise to Almighty God upon several occasions Together with the Song of Songs which is Solomons: [F]irst turn'd, then par[ap]hrased in English verse. To which may be added, Penitential cries.
             Mason, John, 1646?-1694.
          
           
             The sixth edition corrected. With an addition of a sacred poem on Dives and Lazarus.
          
           [8], 112, 20, [4] p.
           
             printed for Tho. Parkhurst, at the Bible and Three Crowns, at the lower end of Cheap-side, near Mercers Chappel,
             London :
             1699.
          
           
             In verse, without music.
             Attributed to John Mason by Wing.
             "Dives and Lazarus" has caption title and separate pagination; the register is continuous.
             Running title reads: The song of songs which is Solomons.
             With two final leaves of advertisements.
             Title page is stained and torn, affecting text.
             Reproduction of the original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Bible. -- O.T. -- Song of Solomon -- Paraphrases, English -- Early works to 1800.
           Religious poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700.
           Hymns, English -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           Spiritual
           Songs
           ;
           OR
           ,
           
             Songs
             of
          
           Praise
           TO
           Almighty
           God
           ,
           Upon
           several
           Occasions
           .
           Together
           with
           The
           SONG
           of
           SONGS
           ,
           Which
           is
           
           SOLOMON's
           :
           First
           Turn'd
           then
           Paraphrased
           in
           English
           Verse
           .
           To
           which
           may
           be
           added
           ,
           Penitential
           Cries
           .
           
             The
             Sixth
             Edition
             Corrected
             .
             With
             an
             Addition
             of
             a
             Sacred
             Poem
             on
          
           Dives
           and
           Lazarus
           .
        
         
           LONDON
           :
           Printed
           for
           
             Tho.
             Parkhurst
          
           at
           the
           Bible
           and
           
             Three
             Crowns
          
           ,
           at
           the
           lower
           end
           of
           Cheap-side
           near
           
             Mercers
             Chappel
          
           ,
           1699.
           
        
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           PREFACE
           .
        
         
           OUR
           Blessed
           Saviour
           immediately
           before
           he
           went
           out
           to
           Suffer
           ,
           Sung
           an
           Hymn
           ,
           and
           his
           Disciples
           Sung
           with
           Him
           ;
           a●e
           to
           his
           Ascension
           into
           Heaven
           ,
           the
           Apostles
           S●ng
           the
           Praises
           of
           God
           ,
           and
           Taught
           others
           to
           〈◊〉
           so
           .
           After
           them
           ,
           Primitive
           Christians
           Sum
           ,
           and
           so
           must
           the
           Christians
           of
           this
           time
           .
           〈…〉
           should
           hold
           their
           Peace
           ,
           the
           Stones
           would
           immediately
           Cry
           out
           :
           Should
           we
           be
           Si●●nt
           even
           the
           Heathens
           might
           shame
           us
           .
           One
           〈◊〉
           said
           formerly
           to
           his
           Friends
           ,
           
             If
             I
             was
             〈◊〉
             Nightingale
             ,
             I
             would
             Sing
             like
             a
             Nightingale
             ;
             But
             now
             I
             am
             a
             Man.
             I
             will
             Sing
             the
             Praises
             of
             God
             as
             long
             as
             I
             Li●e
             ;
             &
             I
             would
             have
             you
             to
             Sing
             with
             〈◊〉
          
           Sing
           we
           then
           heartily
           to
           our
           good
           God
           as
           it
           〈◊〉
           becometh
           us
           ;
           so
           dear
           to
           us
           should
           the
           
           Concernment
           of
           God's
           Honour
           be
           ,
           that
           should
           Solemnly
           own
           his
           Goodnes●
           Power
           at
           Wisdom
           ,
           even
           in
           those
           Works
           of
           His
           ,
           where
           we
           have
           no
           special
           Interest
           ;
           For
           this
           we
           ha●
           the
           Example
           of
           
             Holy
             David
             ●nd
             ●thers
          
           .
           B●●
           if
           we
           have
           not
           attained
           to
           so
           divine
           a
           Fran●●et
           we
           should
           at
           least
           praise
           God
           for
           our
           o●
           Mercies
           ;
           which
           are
           scarce
           Mercies
           scarce
           〈◊〉
           if
           they
           be
           not
           Thankfully
           acknowledge
           to
           Him
           that
           gave
           Them
           ;
           some
           of
           which
           〈◊〉
           taken
           Notice
           of
           in
           the
           First
           Part
           of
           the
           B●●
           But
           who
           can
           express
           the
           Noble
           Acts
           of
           〈◊〉
           Lord
           ,
           or
           shew
           forth
           all
           his
           Praises
           ?
        
         
           Solomon●
           Song
           
             is
             an
             Heavenly
             〈◊〉
             course
             betwixt
             Christ
             and
             his
             Church
             ;
             and
             how
             he
             loves
             Her●
             How
             he
             extols
             H●●
             H●●
             he
             〈◊〉
             Her
             !
             〈◊〉
             be
             rejoyce
             〈…〉
             Her
             !
             It
             is
             a
             thing
             which
             cannot
             be
             duly
             tho●g
             〈◊〉
             upon
             without
             an
             Holy
             Astonishment
             ;
             as
             is
             〈◊〉
             Majesty●
             so
             is
             his
             Mercy
             ,
             so
             is
             his
             Love
             〈◊〉
             Joy.
             Hence
             it
             is
             that
             the
             day
             of
             his
             Espou●●ls
             ,
             〈◊〉
             d●y
             that
             〈◊〉
             his
             〈◊〉
             with
             infinite
             Happiness
             )
             it
             's
          
           styled
           
             the
             day
             〈…〉
             Glad●●ss
             of
             his
             Heart
             ,
          
           Ch.
           5.
           〈◊〉
        
         
         
           
             In
             the
             Version
             I
             Look'd
             at
             the
             Words
             ;
             In
             the
             Paraphrase
             at
             the
          
           Spiritual
           Sense
           ;
           
             In
             the
             whole
             at
             the
             Edification
             of
             those
             that
             Love
             our
             Lord
             Jesus
             Christ
             in
          
           Sincerity
           .
        
         
           Worthy
           is
           the
           Lamb
           that
           was
           Slain
           to
           receive
           Power
           ,
           and
           Riches
           ,
           and
           Wisdom
           and
           Strength
           ,
           and
           Honour
           ,
           and
           Glory
           ,
           and
           Blessing
           .
        
         
           Let
           Heaven
           and
           Earth
           praise
           him
           ,
           let
           Saints
           and
           Angels
           praise
           Him.
           
        
         
           Let
           God's
           Holy
           Church
           throughout
           all
           the
           World
           praise
           Him
           ;
           Let
           all
           the
           Tongues
           and
           Tribes
           of
           the
           Earth
           praise
           Him
           ,
           Let
           Time
           praise
           Him
           ,
           Let
           Eternity
           praise
           Him
           ,
           Let
           our
           Lips
           and
           our
           Lives
           praise
           Him
           ,
           Let
           our
           Souls
           praise
           Him
           ;
           
             And
             O
             may
             they
             be
             a
             Praise
             to
             the
             Riches
             of
             his
             Grace
             for
             ever
             !
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           Contents
           of
           the
           First
           Part.
           
        
         
           
             I.
             A
             General
             Song
             of
             Praise
             to
             Almighty
             God.
             
          
           
             II.
             Another
             .
          
           
             III.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Creation
             .
          
           
             IV.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Preservation
             .
          
           
             V.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Provision
             .
          
           
             VI.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Protection
             .
          
           
             VII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Health
             .
          
           
             VIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Family-prosperity
             .
          
           
             IX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             good
             Success
             in
             Honest
             Affairs
             .
          
           
             X.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Morning
             .
          
           
             XI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Evening
             .
          
           
             XII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Birth
             of
             Christ
             .
          
           
             XIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Christ
             .
          
           
             XIV
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Redemption
             .
          
           
             XV.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Gospel
             .
          
           
             XVI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             a
             Gospel-Ministry
             .
          
           
             XVII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Holy
             Baptism
             .
          
           
             XVIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Lord's
             Supper
             .
          
           
             XIX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Lord's
             Day
             .
          
           
             XX.
             Another
             .
          
           
             XXI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Patience
             of
             God.
             
          
           
             XXII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Pardon
             of
             Sin.
             
          
           
             XXIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             peace
             of
             Conscience
             .
          
           
             XXIV
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Joy
             in
             the
             H.
             Ghost
             .
          
           
             
             XXV
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Grace
             .
          
           
             XXVI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Answer
             of
             Prayer
             .
          
           
             XXVII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Deliverance
             from
             Enemies
             .
          
           
             XXVIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Deliverance
             from
             spiritual
             Troubles
             .
          
           
             XXIX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Deliverance
             from
             imminent
             danger
             of
             Death
             .
          
           
             XXX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Hope
             of
             Glory
             .
          
           
             XXXI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             Collected
             out
             of
             the
             Book
             of
             Psalms
             .
          
           
             XXXII
             .
             Another
             .
          
           
             XXXIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             collected
             from
             the
             Doxologies
             in
             the
             Revelation
             of
             St.
             John.
             
          
        
      
       
         
         
           BOOKS
           printed
           for
           
             Tho.
             Parkhurst
          
           .
        
         
           A
           Body
           of
           Practical
           Divinity
           ,
           consisting
           of
           one
           Hundred
           Seventy
           Six
           Sermons
           on
           the
           lesser
           Carechism
           of
           the
           Assembly
           of
           Divines
           at
           Westminster
           ;
           with
           a
           Supplement
           of
           some
           Serm●ns
           on
           several
           Texts
           of
           Scripture
           ;
           by
           
             Tho●
             Watson
          
           formerly
           Minister
           of
           St.
           
             Stephens
             ,
             Walbrook
          
           .
           Recommended
           by
           several
           Eminent
           Divines
           ,
           to
           Masters
           of
           Families
           and
           others
           .
        
         
           Sacramental
           Hymns
           ,
           collected
           chiefly
           from
           such
           Passages
           of
           the
           New
           Testament
           ,
           as
           contain
           the
           most
           su●table
           matter
           of
           Divine
           Praise●
           in
           the
           Celebration
           of
           the
           Lords
           Supper
           ;
           t●
           which
           is
           added
           ,
           one
           Hymn
           relating
           to
           Baptism
           and
           another
           to
           the
           Ministry
           :
           By
           
             Jos
             .
             Boys●
          
           Minister
           of
           the
           Gospel
           .
        
         
           Penitential
           Cries
           in
           Thirty
           two
           Hymns
           ;
           by
           
             John
             Mason
          
           M.
           A.
           and
           Author
           of
           the
           Songs
           o●
           Praise
           .
        
         
           Six
           hundred
           Select
           Hymns
           and
           Spiritua●
           Songs
           ,
           collected
           out
           of
           the
           Bible
           ;
           together
           with
           a
           Catechism
           ,
           the
           Canticles
           ,
           and
           a
           Catalogue
           of
           Virtuous
           Women
           ;
           by
           
             W.
             Bartam
          
           ,
           A.
           M.
           
        
         
           The
           Psalms
           of
           David
           in
           Metre
           ,
           newly
           translated
           and
           diligently
           compared
           with
           the
           original
           Text
           ,
           and
           former
           Translations
           ;
           more
           plain
           ,
           smooth
           &
           agreeable
           to
           the
           Text
           than
           any
           heretofore
           .
           Recommended
           by
           
             Tho.
             Manton
             ,
             J.
             Owen
             ,
             VVilliam
             Jenkyn
             ,
             Tho.
             Watson
             ,
             Tho.
             Lye
             ,
             Matth.
             Pool
             .
             Matthew
             Me●d
             ,
             Tho.
             Doolittle
             ,
             Tho.
             Vincent
             .
             Nath.
             Vincent
             ,
             VVill.
             Carslake
             ,
             Rich.
             May●
             ,
          
           and
           divers
           other
           Eminent
           Divines
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           Songs
           of
           Praise
           to
           Almighty
           God
           ,
           upon
           several
           Occasions
           .
        
         
           
             I.
             A
             General
             Song
             of
             Praise
             to
             Almighty
             God.
             
          
           
             
               (
               1.
               )
            
             
               HOW
               shall
               I
               Sing
               that
               Majesty
            
             
               Which
               Angels
               do
               admire
               ?
            
             
               Let
               Dust
               in
               Dust
               and
               Silence
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Sing
               ,
               Sing
               ,
               ye
               Heavenly
               Quire.
            
             
               Thousands
               of
               Thousands
               stand
               Around
            
             
               Thy
               Throne
               ,
               O
               God
               ,
               most
               High
               ;
            
             
               Ten
               Thousand
               times
               Ten
               Thousand
               sound
            
             
               Thy
               Praise
               ;
               but
               who
               am
               I
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               2.
               )
            
             
               Thy
               Brightness
               unto
               them
               appears
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               I
               thy
               Footsteps
               trace
               ,
            
             
               A
               Sound
               of
               God
               comes
               to
               my
               Ears
               ;
            
             
               But
               they
               behold
               thy
               Face
               .
            
             
               They
               Sing
               because
               thou
               art
               their
               Sun
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               send
               a
               Beam
               on
               me
               ;
            
             
               ●or
               where
               Heaven
               is
               but
               once
               begun
            
             
               There
               Hallelujahs
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               3.
               )
            
             
               Enlighten
               with
               Faiths
               Light
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Enflame
               it
               with
               Loves
               Fire
               ,
            
             
               Then
               shall
               I
               Sing
               and
               bear
               a
               part
               ,
            
             
               With
               that
               Celestial
               Quire.
            
             
               I
               shall
               ,
               I
               fear
               ,
               be
               dark
               and
               cold
               ,
            
             
               With
               all
               my
               Fire
               and
               Light
               :
            
             
               Yet
               when
               thou
               dost
               accept
               their
               Gold
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               Treasure
               up
               my
               Mite
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               4.
               )
            
             
               How
               great
               a
               Being
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               is
               thine
               ,
            
             
               Which
               doth
               all
               Beings
               keep
               !
            
             
               Thy
               Knowledge
               is
               the
               only
               Line
            
             
               To
               found
               so
               vast
               a
               Deep
               .
            
             
               Thou
               art
               a
               Sea
               without
               a
               Shore
               ,
            
             
               A
               Sun
               without
               a
               Sphere
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Time
               is
               now
               and
               evermore
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               place
               is
               every
               where
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               5.
               )
            
             
               How
               good
               art
               thou
               whose
               Goodness
               is
            
             
               Our
               Parent
               ,
               Nurse
               and
               Guide
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Streams
               do
               water
               Paradise
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               Earth
               beside
               !
            
             
               Thine
               Upper
               and
               Thine
               Nether
               Springs
            
             
               Make
               both
               thy
               Worlds
               to
               thrive
               .
            
             
               Under
               thy
               warm
               and
               sheltering
               Wings
            
             
               Thou
               keep'st
               two
               Broods
               alive
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               6.
               )
            
             
               Thy
               Arm
               of
               Might
               ,
               most
               mighty
               King
               ,
            
             
               Both
               Rocks
               and
               Hearts
               doth
               break
               .
            
             
               My
               God
               ,
               thou
               canst
               do
               every
               thing
            
             
               But
               what
               would
               shew
               thee
               weak
               .
            
             
               Thou
               canst
               not
               Cross
               thy self
               ,
               or
               be
            
             
               Less
               than
               thy self
               ,
               or
               poor
               ;
            
             
               But
               whatsoever
               pleaseth
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               That
               canst
               thou
               do
               ,
               and
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               7.
               )
            
             
               Who
               would
               not
               fear
               thy
               Searching
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               Witness
               to
               all
               that
               's
               true
               ?
            
             
               Dark
               Hell
               and
               deep
               Hypocrisie
            
             
               Lie
               plain
               before
               its
               View
               .
            
             
               Motions
               and
               Thoughts
               before
               they
               grow
            
             
               Thy
               Knowledge
               doth
               Espy
               .
            
             
               What
               unborn
               Ages
               are
               to
               do
            
             
               Is
               done
               before
               thine
               Eye
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               8.
               )
            
             
               Thy
               Wisdom
               ,
               which
               both
               makes
               and
               mends
               ,
            
             
               We
               ever
               much
               Admire
               .
            
             
               Creation
               all
               our
               Wit
               Transcends
               ;
            
             
               Redemption
               rises
               Higher
               .
            
             
               Thy
               Wisdom
               guides
               stray'd
               Sinners
               home
               ,
            
             
               'T
               will
               make
               the
               dead
               World
               rise
               ,
            
             
               And
               bring
               those
               Prisoners
               to
               their
               Doom
               ;
            
             
               Its
               Paths
               are
               Mysteries
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               9.
               )
            
             
               Great
               is
               thy
               Truth
               ,
               and
               shall
               prevail
            
             
               To
               Unbelievers
               shame
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Truth
               and
               Years
               do
               never
               sail
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               ever
               art
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               Unbelief
               is
               a
               Raging
               wave
               ,
            
             
               Dashing
               against
               a
               Rock
               .
            
             
               If
               God
               doth
               not
               his
               Israel
               Save
               ,
            
             
               Then
               let
               Egyptians
               mock
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               10.
               )
            
             
               Most
               pure
               and
               Holy
               are
               thine
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Most
               Holy
               is
               thy
               Name
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Saints
               ,
               and
               Laws
               ,
               and
               Penalties
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Holyness
               proclaim
               .
            
             
               This
               is
               the
               Devils
               scourge
               and
               sting
               ,
            
             
               This
               is
               the
               Angels
               Song
               ,
            
             
               Who
               Holy
               ,
               Holy
               ,
               Holy
               Sing
               ,
            
             
               In
               Heavenly
               
               Canaan's
               Tongue
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               11.
               )
            
             
               Mercy
               ,
               that
               shining
               Attribute
               ,
            
             
               The
               Sinners
               Hope
               and
               Plea
               !
            
             
               Huge
               Hosts
               of
               Sins
               in
               their
               Pursuit
            
             
               Are
               drown'd
               in
               thy
               Red
               Sea
               ;
            
             
               Mercy
               is
               God's
               Memorial
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               all
               Ages
               prais'd
               ;
            
             
               My
               God
               ,
               thine
               only
               Son
               did
               fall
               ,
            
             
               That
               Mercy
               might
               be
               Rais'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               12.
               )
            
             
               Thy
               bright
               Back
               parts
               ,
               O
               God
               of
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               I
               Humbly
               here
               Adore
               ;
            
             
               Shew
               me
               thy
               Glory
               and
               thy
               Face
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               may
               praise
               Thee
               more
               .
            
             
               Since
               none
               can
               see
               thy
               Face
               and
               live
               ,
            
             
               For
               me
               to
               die
               is
               best
               ,
            
             
               Through
               
               Jordan's
               streams
               who
               would
               not
               dive
            
             
               To
               Land
               at
               
               Canaan's
               Rest
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             Another
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               WHat
               shall
               I
               Render
               to
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               For
               all
               his
               Gifts
               to
               Me
               ?
            
             
               Sing
               Heav'n
               and
               Earth
               ,
               rejoyce
               and
               praise
            
             
               His
               Glorious
               Majesty
               .
            
             
               Bright
               Cherubims
               ,
               sweet
               Seraphims
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               with
               all
               your
               might
               .
            
             
               Praise
               ,
               praise
               Him
               ,
               all
               ye
               Hosts
               of
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               him
               ye
               Saints
               in
               Light.
               
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Ye
               blessed
               Patriachs
               praise
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               For
               his
               First-fruits
               are
               ye
               ,
            
             
               Bless'd
               Prophets
               ,
               who
               dreamt
               here
               of
               God
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               whom
               now
               you
               see
               .
            
             
               Offer
               to
               God
               ye
               glorious
               Priests
               ,
            
             
               Your
               Sacrifice
               of
               Praise
               ;
            
             
               Sweet
               Psalmists
               ,
               now
               your
               Hearts
               are
               Fixt
               ,
            
             
               Your
               tuneful
               Voices
               raise
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Yet
               twelve
               Apostles
               of
               the
               Lamb
               ,
            
             
               Who
               here
               proclaim'd
               your
               King
               ,
            
             
               And
               Fill'd
               this
               World
               with
               holy
               Sounds
               ,
            
             
               Loud
               Hallelujahs
               Sing
               .
            
             
               Triumphant
               Martyrs
               ye
               did
               Fight
               ,
            
             
               And
               Fighting
               ye
               did
               fall
               ,
            
             
               And
               falling
               ye
               took
               up
               a
               Crown
               :
            
             
               Crown
               Him
               who
               Crown'd
               you
               all
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Praise
               ,
               praise
               Him
               ,
               all
               ye
               saved
               Ones
               ,
            
             
               From
               whom
               Salvation
               came
               ;
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               that
               Sits
               upon
               the
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               And
               Praise
               the
               Glorious
               Lamb.
            
             
               Praise
               ,
               praise
               him
               ,
               all
               ye
               Saints
               below
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               him
               both
               East
               and
               West
               :
            
             
               Praise
               him
               ,
               all
               ye
               Baptized
               Lands
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               whom
               you
               have
               Profess'd
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               O
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               all
               ye
               Crowned
               Heads
               ,
            
             
               That
               own
               the
               Christian
               Name
               :
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               who
               is
               the
               King
               of
               Kings
               ,
            
             
               Raise
               and
               Enlarge
               his
               Fame
               .
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               all
               Christian
               Magistrates
               ,
            
             
               Gain
               Credit
               to
               his
               Ways
               :
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               ye
               Ministers
               of
               God
               ,
            
             
               Teach
               Others
               Him
               to
               Praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               our
               Famous
               Christian
               Isle
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               him
               with
               one
               accord
               .
            
             
             
               Let
               every
               Tongue
               ,
               let
               every
               Tribe
            
             
               Be
               taught
               to
               Praise
               the
               Lord
               ;
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               my
               Friends
               and
               Kindred
               all
               ,
            
             
               O
               Praise
               Him
               all
               your
               Days
               ;
            
             
               My
               Mind
               and
               Heart
               ,
               my
               Lip
               and
               Life
            
             
               Joyn
               to
               advance
               his
               Praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               O
               Let
               me
               praise
               thee
               ,
               whilst
               I
               live
               ,
            
             
               And
               praise
               thee
               ,
               when
               I
               dye
               ,
            
             
               And
               praise
               thee
               ,
               when
               I
               rise
               again
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               Eternity
               .
            
             
               Praise
               Father
               ,
               Son
               and
               Holy
               Ghost
               ,
            
             
               The
               Father
               sent
               his
               Son
               ;
            
             
               The
               Son
               sends
               forth
               the
               Holy
               Ghost
               :
            
             
               For
               Mens
               Salvation
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Mysterious
               depths
               of
               Endless
               Love
            
             
               Our
               Admirations
               raise
               ,
            
             
               My
               God
               ;
               thy
               Name
               exalted
               is
            
             
               Far
               above
               all
               our
               Praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             III.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Creation
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               THou
               wast
               ,
               O
               God
               :
               and
               thou
               wast
               Blest
            
             
               Before
               the
               World
               begun
               ;
            
             
               Of
               thine
               Eternity
               possest
               ,
            
             
               Before
               Time's
               Glass
               did
               Run
               .
            
             
               Thou
               needest
               none
               thy
               Praise
               to
               Sing
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               thy
               Joy
               could
               Fade
               .
            
             
             
               Could'st
               thou
               have
               needed
               any
               thing
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               could'st
               have
               nothing
               made
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Great
               and
               Good
               God
               ,
               it
               pleased
               Thee
            
             
               Thy
               God-head
               to
               declare
               ;
            
             
               And
               what
               thy
               Goodness
               did
               decree
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Greatness
               did
               prepare
               :
            
             
               Thou
               spak'st
               ,
               and
               Heaven
               and
               Earth
               Appear'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               Answer'd
               to
               thy
               Call
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               their
               Makers
               Voice
               they
               heard
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               the
               Creatures
               ALL.
               
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Thou
               spak'st
               the
               Word
               ,
               most
               mighty
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               went
               forth
               with
               Speed
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Will
               ,
               O
               Lord
               ,
               it
               was
               thy
               Word
               .
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               it
               was
               thy
               Deed
               :
            
             
               Thou
               brought'st
               forth
               Adam
               from
               the
               Ground
               ,
            
             
               And
               Eve
               out
               of
               his
               Side
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Blessings
               made
               the
               Earth
               abound
               ,
            
             
               With
               these
               Two
               multiply'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Those
               three
               great
               Leaves
               ,
               Heav'n
               ,
               Sea
               &
               Land
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Name
               in
               Figures
               shew
               ;
            
             
               Bruites
               feel
               the
               Bounty
               of
               thy
               Hand
               ,
            
             
               But
               I
               my
               Maker
               know
               .
            
             
               Should
               not
               I
               here
               thy
               Servant
               be
               ,
            
             
               VVhose
               Creatures
               serve
               me
               here
               ?
            
             
               My
               Lord
               ,
               whom
               should
               I
               fear
               but
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               VVho
               am
               thy
               Creatures
               Fear
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               5.
               
            
             
               To
               whom
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               should
               I
               Sing
               but
               thee
               ,
            
             
               The
               Maker
               of
               my
               Tongue
               !
            
             
               Lo
               !
               other
               Lords
               would
               Seize
               on
               Me
               ,
            
             
               But
               I
               to
               thee
               belong
               :
            
             
               As
               Waters
               haste
               unto
               their
               Sea
               ,
            
             
               And
               Earth
               unto
               its
               Earth
               ;
            
             
               So
               let
               my
               Soul
               return
               to
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               From
               whom
               it
               had
               its
               Birth
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               But
               ah
               !
               I
               'am
               fallen
               in
               the
               Night
               ,
            
             
               And
               cannot
               come
               to
               thee
               .
            
             
               Yet
               speak
               the
               Word
               ,
               
                 Let
                 there
                 be
                 Light
              
               ;
            
             
               It
               shall
               Enlighten
               me
               :
            
             
               And
               let
               thy
               Word
               ,
               most
               Mighty
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Fallen
               Creature
               raise
               ,
            
             
               O
               make
               me
               o're
               again
               ,
               and
               I
            
             
               Shall
               Sing
               my
               Makers
               praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             IV.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Preservation
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               THou
               Lord
               who
               raised'st
               Heaven
               and
               Earth
            
             
               Dost
               make
               thy
               Building
               stand
               ,
            
             
               The
               Weight
               whereof
               doth
               wholly
               Rest
            
             
               On
               thine
               Almighty
               Hand
               :
            
             
               Should'st
               thou
               withdraw
               thy
               Hand
               of
               might
               ,
            
             
               The
               Earth
               would
               quit
               its
               place
               ;
            
             
               The
               shining
               Heaven
               would
               vanish
               streight
            
             
               Into
               meer
               empty
               Space
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               2.
               
            
             
               For
               as
               that
               Liquors
               Scent
               remains
               ,
            
             
               Which
               first
               the
               Cask
               did
               Fill
               ;
            
             
               So
               Feeble
               Creatures
               hold
               the
               Scent
            
             
               Of
               their
               first
               nothing
               still
               :
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               what
               is
               Man
               ,
               that
               Child
               of
               Pride
               ,
            
             
               That
               boasts
               his
               High
               degree
               ?
            
             
               If
               one
               poor
               moment
               he
               be
               Left
               ,
            
             
               He
               Sinks
               ,
               and
               where
               is
               He
               ?
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               In
               Thee
               I
               Live
               and
               Move
               ,
               and
               am
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               deal'st
               me
               out
               my
               days
               ,
            
             
               As
               thou
               renew'st
               my
               Being
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Let
               me
               renew
               thy
               Praise
               :
            
             
               From
               thee
               I
               am
               ,
               through
               thee
               I
               am
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               thee
               I
               must
               be
               ;
            
             
               'T
               is
               better
               for
               me
               not
               to
               live
            
             
               Than
               not
               to
               live
               to
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               My
               God
               ,
               thou
               art
               my
               glorious
               Sun
               ,
            
             
               By
               whose
               bright
               Beams
               I
               shine
               ;
            
             
               As
               thou
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               ever
               art
               with
               Me
               ,
            
             
               Let
               me
               be
               ever
               thine
               .
            
             
               Thou
               art
               my
               living
               Fountain
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               streams
               on
               me
               do
               flow
               ;
            
             
               My self
               I
               render
               unto
               thee
               ,
            
             
               To
               whom
               my self
               I
               owe.
               
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               As
               thou
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               an
               Immortal
               Soul
            
             
               Has
               ;
               t
               Breathed
               into
               me
               ;
            
             
             
               So
               let
               my
               Soul
               be
               Breathing
               forth
            
             
               Immortal
               Thanks
               to
               Thee
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             V.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Provision
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               COme
               ,
               let
               us
               praise
               our
               Masters
               Hand
               ,
            
             
               Which
               gives
               us
               daily
               Bread
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               House
               ,
               my
               Lord
               ,
               is
               full
               of
               Guests
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Table
               Richly
               Spread
               :
            
             
               Earth
               is
               thy
               Table
               ,
               where
               thy
               Guests
            
             
               Do
               daily
               Sit
               and
               Feed
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Hand
               Carves
               every
               one
               his
               part
               ,
            
             
               And
               suffers
               None
               to
               need
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Naked
               came
               I
               into
               the
               World
               ,
            
             
               And
               nothing
               with
               me
               brought
               ;
            
             
               And
               nothing
               have
               I
               here
               deserv'd
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               have
               I
               lacked
               Nought
               .
            
             
               I
               do
               not
               Bless
               my
               Labouring
               Hand
               ,
            
             
               My
               Labouring
               Head
               or
               Chance
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Providence
               ,
               most
               Gracious
               God
               ,
            
             
               Is
               mine
               Inheritance
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Bounty
               gives
               me
               Bread
               with
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               A
               Table
               free
               from
               Strife
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Blessing
               is
               the
               Staff
               of
               Bread
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               the
               Staff
               of
               Life
               .
            
             
               The
               People
               Sate
               in
               Companies
               ,
            
             
               My
               Saviour
               Fed
               them
               all
               ;
            
             
             
               So
               all
               the
               Families
               of
               the
               Earth
            
             
               Have
               Tables
               in
               Gods
               Hall
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               Vine
               and
               Olive
               Branches
               too
            
             
               Are
               nourished
               by
               thy
               Care
               ,
            
             
               Mercies
               we
               Eat
               ,
               Mercies
               we
               Drink
               ,
            
             
               Mercies
               we
               daily
               wear
               :
            
             
               Shall
               I
               repine
               against
               my
               God
            
             
               That
               kept
               me
               all
               my
               days
               ?
            
             
               Then
               let
               my
               Tongue
               forget
               to
               taste
               ,
            
             
               When
               it
               forgets
               to
               praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             VI.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Protection
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               MY
               God
               ,
               my
               only
               Help
               and
               Hope
               ,
            
             
               My
               strong
               and
               sure
               Defence
               :
            
             
               For
               all
               my
               Safety
               and
               my
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               I
               bless
               thy
               Providence
               :
            
             
               The
               daily
               Favours
               of
               my
               God
            
             
               I
               cannot
               Sing
               at
               large
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               let
               me
               make
               this
               Holy
               Boast
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               the
               Almighties
               Charge
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               in
               the
               day
               thou
               art
               about
            
             
               The
               Paths
               wherein
               I
               tread
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               the
               Night
               ,
               when
               I
               lye
               down
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               art
               about
               my
               Bed
               :
            
             
               I
               travel
               thro'
               the
               Wilderness
               ,
            
             
               Free
               from
               the
               Beasts
               of
               prey
               .
            
             
             
               The
               Wolves
               and
               Lions
               Mouths
               are
               stop'd
               ,
            
             
               The
               Serpents
               creep
               away
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               In
               Preservation
               God
               Creates
               ,
            
             
               Delivers
               in
               Protection
               ;
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               every
               Moment
               of
               my
               Life
               ,
            
             
               Is
               like
               a
               Resurrection
               :
            
             
               ●
               thousand
               Deaths
               I
               daily
               '
               scape
               ,
            
             
               I
               pass
               by
               many
               a
               Pit
               ,
            
             
               I
               Sail
               by
               many
               dreadful
               Rocks
               ,
            
             
               Where
               others
               have
               been
               split
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               I
               see
               blind
               People
               with
               mine
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               To
               Hospitals
               I
               walk
               ;
            
             
               ●
               hear
               of
               them
               that
               cannot
               hear
               ,
            
             
               And
               of
               the
               Dumb
               I
               talk
               :
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               what
               am
               I
               that
               thou
               should'st
               shew
            
             
               Such
               Favour
               unto
               me
               ?
            
             
               My
               Bones
               and
               Senses
               ,
               all
               must
               say
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               who
               is
               like
               to
               thee
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             VII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Health
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               HEalth
               is
               a
               Jewel
               dropt
               from
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Money
               cannot
               buy
               ,
            
             
               The
               Life
               of
               Life
               ,
               the
               Bodies
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               And
               pleasant
               Harmony
               :
            
             
               Lord
               who
               hath
               Tun'd
               my
               outward
               Man
            
             
               To
               such
               a
               lively
               Frame
               ,
            
             
             
               Skrew
               up
               my
               Heart-strings
               all
               ,
               to
               make
            
             
               Sweet
               Melody
               to
               thy
               Name
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               Others
               in
               God's
               Prisons
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Bound
               with
               Afflictions
               Chains
               ,
            
             
               I
               walk
               at
               large
               ,
               secure
               and
               free
            
             
               From
               Sickness
               and
               from
               Pains
               :
            
             
               Their
               Life
               is
               Death
               ,
               their
               Language
               groans
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Meat
               is
               Juice
               of
               Galls
               ;
            
             
               Their
               Friends
               ,
               but
               strangers
               ;
               wealth
               ,
               but
               want
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Houses
               ,
               Prison-walls
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Their
               earnest
               Cries
               do
               pierce
               the
               Skies
               ,
            
             
               And
               shall
               I
               silent
               be
               ?
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               was
               I
               sick
               ,
               as
               I
               am
               well
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               should'st
               have
               heard
               from
               me
               .
            
             
               The
               Sick
               have
               not
               more
               cause
               to
               pray
               ,
            
             
               Than
               I
               to
               praise
               my
               King.
            
             
               Since
               Nature
               teaches
               them
               to
               groan
               ,
            
             
               Let
               Grace
               teach
               me
               to
               sing
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               I
               see
               my
               Friends
               ,
               I
               taste
               my
               Meat
               ,
            
             
               I
               'm
               free
               from
               my
               Employ
               :
            
             
               But
               when
               I
               do
               enjoy
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               Then
               I
               my self
               enjoy
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               who
               dost
               set
               me
               on
               my
               Feet
               ,
            
             
               Direct
               me
               in
               thy
               ways
               :
            
             
               O
               Crown
               thy
               Gift
               of
               Health
               with
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               And
               turn
               it
               to
               thy
               Praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             VIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Family-Prosperity
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               THy
               Blessing
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               doth
               multiply
            
             
               One
               Jacob
               to
               two
               Bands
               ,
            
             
               One
               Person
               to
               a
               Family
               ,
            
             
               Which
               through
               thy
               Blessing
               stands
               .
            
             
               On
               all
               my
               Flock
               both
               great
               and
               small
            
             
               Thy
               Sun
               doth
               Sweetly
               Shine
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               fruitful
               drops
               do
               gently
               fall
            
             
               On
               every
               Branch
               of
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Blessing
               made
               the
               Loaves
               to
               grow
               ,
            
             
               And
               Multitudes
               were
               Fed.
            
             
               My
               House
               is
               Fill'd
               and
               Feasted
               too
               ;
            
             
               It
               is
               an
               House
               of
               Bread
               :
            
             
               How
               can
               I
               hear
               my
               Children
               Sing
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               Sing
               unto
               thee
               ?
            
             
               Since
               they
               glad
               News
               from
               Heav'n
               do
               bring
               ,
            
             
               My
               God
               must
               hear
               from
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Mine
               Olive
               Branches
               and
               my
               Vine
            
             
               Thrive
               by
               my
               Tables
               Side
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               others
               wither
               and
               decline
               ,
            
             
               Who
               in
               Deaths
               Shade
               abide
               .
            
             
               With
               Cov'nant
               Blood
               my
               Posts
               are
               Red
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               on
               my
               Lintle
               found
               .
            
             
               〈◊〉
               Lo
               !
               the
               Line
               of
               Scarlet
               Thread
            
             
               Is
               on
               my
               Window
               bound
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               not
               ,
               my
               God
               ,
               my self
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               mine
               ,
               to
               Thee
               I
               owe
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               mad'st
               me
               many
               out
               of
               one
               ,
            
             
               So
               let
               thy
               Praises
               grow
               :
            
             
               Whatever
               Lord
               is
               done
               to
               thine
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               count'st
               it
               done
               to
               thee
               :
            
             
               And
               whatsoever's
               done
               to
               mine
               ,
            
             
               I
               Count
               it
               done
               to
               Me.
               
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Let
               me
               be
               ever
               good
               to
               thine
               ,
            
             
               Who
               art
               so
               good
               to
               me
               !
            
             
               Let
               thine
               be
               mine
               ,
               and
               mine
               be
               thine
               ,
            
             
               And
               they
               twice
               mine
               shall
               be
               ;
            
             
               Then
               shall
               my
               House
               a
               Temple
               be
               ,
            
             
               Then
               I
               and
               mine
               shall
               Sing
            
             
               
               Hosanna's
               to
               thy
               Majesty
               ,
            
             
               And
               praise
               our
               Heavenly
               King.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             IX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             good
             Success
             in
             honest
             Affairs
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               IS
               not
               the
               Hand
               of
               God
               in
               this
               :
            
             
               Is
               not
               this
               End
               divine
               ?
            
             
               Lord
               of
               Success
               ,
               Thee
               will
               I
               bless
               ,
            
             
               Who
               on
               my
               Paths
               do'st
               shine
               :
            
             
               I
               Reap
               the
               Fruit
               of
               God's
               Design
               ,
            
             
               By
               Him
               it
               was
               foreseen
               ;
            
             
             
               He
               thought
               of
               this
               as
               well
               as
               I
               ,
            
             
               Or
               it
               had
               never
               been
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               I
               Blindly
               guess'd
               ,
               but
               he
               foreknew
               ,
            
             
               I
               wish'd
               ,
               he
               did
               Command
               ;
            
             
               Wherefore
               I
               praise
               his
               careful
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               And
               his
               Unerring
               Hand
               :
            
             
               The
               Bow
               is
               draw
               by
               feeble
               Arms
               ,
            
             
               Aim
               taken
               in
               the
               Dark
               ,
            
             
               A
               Providential
               Hand
               doth
               Guide
            
             
               The
               Arrow
               to
               the
               Mark.
               
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Except
               the
               Lord
               the
               City
               keep
               ,
            
             
               The
               Watchmen
               will
               be
               slain
               ;
            
             
               Except
               the
               Lord
               do
               build
               the
               House
               ,
            
             
               The
               Builder
               Builds
               in
               Vain
               :
            
             
               Buildings
               are
               Babels
               ,
               Cities
               Heaps
               ,
            
             
               When
               thou
               send'st
               Curse
               or
               Flame
               ;
            
             
               And
               labouring
               Heads
               that
               promise
               Fruit
               ,
            
             
               Oft
               bring
               forth
               Wind
               and
               Shame
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               But
               thou
               hast
               Crown'd
               my
               Actions
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               With
               good
               Success
               to
               day
               ;
            
             
               This
               Crown
               ,
               together
               with
               my self
            
             
               At
               thy
               blest
               Feet
               I
               lay
               :
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               who
               art
               pleas'd
               to
               prosper
               Me
               ,
            
             
               To
               bless
               me
               in
               my
               ways
               ;
            
             
               Prosper
               my
               weak
               endeavouring
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Aimeth
               at
               thy
               Praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             X.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Morning
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               MY
               God
               was
               with
               me
               all
               this
               Night
               ,
            
             
               And
               gave
               Me
               sweet
               Respose
               ;
            
             
               My
               God
               did
               watch
               even
               whilst
               I
               slept
               ,
            
             
               O●
               I
               had
               never
               Rose
               :
            
             
               How
               many
               groan'd
               and
               wish'd
               for
               Sleep
               ,
            
             
               Until
               they
               wish'd
               for
               day
               ,
            
             
               Meas'ring
               slow
               Hours
               with
               their
               quick
               pains
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               I
               securely
               lay
               !
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               I
               did
               sleep
               all
               dangers
               slept
               ,
            
             
               No
               Thieves
               did
               me
               affright
               ,
            
             
               Those
               Evening
               Wolves
               ,
               Those
               Beasts
               of
               prey
               ,
            
             
               Disturbers
               of
               the
               Night
               :
            
             
               No
               Raging
               Flames
               nor
               Storms
               did
               Rend
            
             
               The
               House
               that
               I
               was
               in
               ;
            
             
               I
               heard
               no
               dreadful
               Cries
               without
               ,
            
             
               No
               doleful
               Groans
               within
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               What
               Terrours
               have
               I
               '
               Scap'd
               this
               Night
               ,
            
             
               Which
               have
               on
               Others
               Fell
               ,
            
             
               My
               Body
               might
               have
               slept
               its
               last
               ,
            
             
               My
               Soul
               have
               wak'd
               in
               Hell
               :
            
             
               Sweet
               Rest
               had
               gain'd
               that
               Strength
               to
               Me
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Labour
               did
               Devour
               :
            
             
               My
               Body
               was
               in
               weakness
               Sown
               ,
            
             
               But
               it
               is
               Rais'd
               in
               power
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               4.
               )
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               for
               the
               Mercies
               of
               the
               Night
               ,
            
             
               My
               humble
               Thanks
               I
               pay
               ,
            
             
               And
               unto
               Thee
               I
               dedicate
            
             
               The
               first
               Fruits
               of
               the
               day
               :
            
             
               Let
               this
               day
               praise
               Thee
               ,
               O
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               let
               all
               my
               days
               :
            
             
               And
               O
               let
               mine
               Eternal
               Day
               ,
            
             
               Be
               thine
               Eternal
               praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Evening
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               NOW
               from
               the
               Altar
               of
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Let
               Incense
               Flames
               arise
               ;
            
             
               Assist
               me
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               to
               offer
               up
            
             
               Mine
               Evening
               Sacrifice
               :
            
             
               Awake
               ,
               my
               Love
               ;
               Awake
               ,
               my
               Joy
               ;
            
             
               Awake
               my
               Heart
               and
               Tongue
               ,
            
             
               Sleep
               not
               when
               Mercies
               loudly
               call
               ;
            
             
               Break
               forth
               into
               a
               Song
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Man's
               Life
               's
               a
               Book
               of
               History
               ,
            
             
               The
               Leaves
               thereof
               are
               Days
               ;
            
             
               The
               Letters
               Mercies
               closely
               Joyn'd
               ,
            
             
               The
               Title
               is
               thy
               Praise
               :
            
             
               This
               day
               God
               was
               my
               Sun
               and
               Shield
               ,
            
             
               My
               keeper
               and
               my
               Guide
               ;
            
             
               His
               care
               was
               on
               my
               Frailty
               shewn
               ,
            
             
               His
               Mercies
               multiply'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Minutes
               and
               Mercies
               multiply'd
               ,
            
             
               Have
               made
               up
               all
               this
               day
               ;
            
             
               Minutes
               came
               quick
               ,
               but
               Mercies
               were
            
             
               More
               Fleet
               and
               Free
               than
               they
               :
            
             
               New
               time
               ,
               new
               Favours
               ,
               and
               new
               Joys
               ,
            
             
               Do
               a
               new
               Song
               require
               ;
            
             
               Till
               I
               shall
               praise
               Thee
               as
               I
               would
               ,
            
             
               Accept
               my
               Hearts
               desire
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Lord
               of
               my
               Time
               ,
               whose
               Hand
               hath
               Set
               ,
            
             
               New
               Time
               upon
               my
               Score
               ;
            
             
               Then
               shall
               I
               praise
               for
               all
               my
               Time
               ,
            
             
               When
               Time
               shall
               be
               no
               more
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Birth
             of
             Christ.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               AWay
               dark
               thoughts
               ;
               Awake
               ,
               my
               Joy
               ;
            
             
               Awake
               ,
               my
               Glory
               ,
               Sing
               ,
            
             
               Sing
               Songs
               to
               Celebrate
               the
               Birth
            
             
               Of
               Jacobs
               God
               and
               King
               :
            
             
               O
               happy
               Night
               ,
               that
               brought
               forth
               Light
               :
            
             
               Which
               makes
               the
               Blind
               to
               see
               !
            
             
               The
               day-Spring
               from
               on
               High
               came
               down
            
             
               To
               Chear
               and
               Visit
               Thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               The
               wakeful
               Shepherds
               near
               their
               Flocks
               ,
            
             
               Were
               watching
               for
               the
               Morn
               ;
            
             
               But
               better
               News
               from
               Heav'n
               was
               brought
            
             
               Your
               Saviour
               Christ
               is
               Born.
            
             
             
               In
               
               Bethlem-Town
               the
               Infant
               Lies
               ,
            
             
               Within
               a
               place
               obscure
               ;
            
             
               O
               Little
               Bethlem
               ,
               poor
               in
               VValls
               ,
            
             
               But
               Rich
               in
               Furniture
               !
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Since
               Heaven
               is
               now
               come
               down
               to
               Earth
               ,
            
             
               Hither
               the
               Angels
               Fly
               ;
            
             
               Heark
               how
               the
               Heavenly
               Quire
               doth
               Sing
               ,
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               〈◊〉
               High
               :
            
             
               The
               News
               is
               spread
               ,
               the
               Church
               is
               glad
               ,
            
             
               Simeon
               ,
               o'recome
               with
               Joy
               ,
            
             
               Sings
               with
               the
               Infant
               in
               his
               Arms
               ,
            
             
               Now
               let
               thy
               Servant
               die
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Wise
               Men
               from
               far
               beheld
               the
               Star
               ,
            
             
               Which
               was
               their
               faithful
               Guide
               ;
            
             
               Until
               it
               pointed
               forth
               the
               Babe
               ,
            
             
               And
               him
               they
               glorified
               :
            
             
               Do
               Heaven
               and
               Earth
               Rejoyce
               and
               Sing
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               we
               our
               Christ
               deny
               ?
            
             
               He
               's
               Born
               for
               us
               ,
               and
               we
               for
               Him
               ;
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               on
               High.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             XIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               I
               'VE
               found
               the
               Pearl
               of
               greatest
               price
               ,
            
             
               My
               Heart
               doth
               Sing
               for
               Joy
               ;
            
             
               Sing
               I
               must
               ;
               a
               Christ
               I
               have
               ,
            
             
               what
               a
               Christ
               have
               I
               !
            
             
             
               Christ
               is
               the
               Way
               ,
               the
               Truth
               and
               Life
               ,
            
             
               The
               Way
               to
               God
               and
               Glory
               :
            
             
               Life
               to
               the
               Dead
               ,
               the
               Truth
               of
               Types
               ,
            
             
               The
               Truth
               of
               Ancient
               Story
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Christ
               is
               a
               Prophet
               ,
               Priest
               and
               King
               ;
            
             
               A
               Prophet
               full
               of
               Light
               :
            
             
               A
               Priest
               that
               stands
               'twixt
               God
               and
               Man
               ,
            
             
               A
               King
               that
               Rules
               with
               Might
               :
            
             
               Christ's
               Manhood
               is
               a
               Temple
               ,
               where
               ,
            
             
               The
               Altar
               ,
               God
               doth
               Rest
               ;
            
             
               My
               Christ
               he
               is
               the
               Sacrifice
               ;
            
             
               My
               Christ
               ,
               He
               is
               the
               Priest
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               My
               Christ
               ,
               He
               is
               the
               Lord
               of
               Lords
               ,
            
             
               He
               is
               the
               King
               of
               Kings
               ;
            
             
               He
               is
               the
               Son
               of
               Righteousness
               ,
            
             
               With
               Healing
               in
               his
               Wings
               .
            
             
               My
               Christ
               ,
               He
               is
               the
               Tree
               of
               Life
            
             
               Which
               in
               God's
               Garden
               grows
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               Fruits
               do
               Feed
               ,
               whose
               Leaves
               do
               Heal
               ,
            
             
               My
               Christ
               is
               Sharons
               Rose
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               4.
               )
            
             
               Christ
               is
               my
               Meat
               ,
               Christ
               is
               my
               Drink
               ,
            
             
               My
               Physick
               and
               my
               Health
               ;
            
             
               My
               Peace
               ,
               my
               Strength
               ,
               my
               Joy
               ,
               my
               Crown
               .
            
             
               My
               Glory
               and
               my
               Wealth
               :
            
             
               Christ
               is
               my
               Father
               and
               my
               Friend
               ,
            
             
               My
               Brother
               and
               my
               Love
               ;
            
             
               My
               Head
               ,
               my
               Hope
               ,
               my
               Counsell●
            
             
               My
               Advocate
               above
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               5.
               )
            
             
               My
               Christ
               he
               is
               the
               Heaven
               of
               Heaven
               ,
            
             
               My
               Christ
               what
               shall
               I
               call
               ?
            
             
               My
               Christ
               is
               first
               ,
               my
               Christ
               is
               last
               ,
            
             
               My
               Christ
               is
               All
               in
               All.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             XIV
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Redemption
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               O
               That
               I
               had
               an
               Angels
               Tongue
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               might
               loudly
               Sing
            
             
               The
               Wonders
               of
               Redeeming
               Love
               ,
            
             
               To
               Thee
               my
               God
               and
               King
               !
            
             
               But
               Man
               ,
               who
               at
               the
               Gates
               of
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               Did
               Pale
               and
               Speechless
               Lye
               ,
            
             
               Must
               find
               a
               Tongue
               and
               Time
               to
               speak
               ,
            
             
               Or
               else
               the
               Stones
               will
               cry
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               2.
               )
            
             
               Let
               the
               Redeemed
               of
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Their
               thankful
               Voices
               raise
               :
            
             
               Can
               we
               be
               Dumb
               ,
               whilst
               Angels
               Sing
            
             
               Our
               great
               Redeemers
               Praise
               ?
            
             
               Come
               let
               us
               joyn
               with
               Angels
               then
               ,
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               on
               High
               ;
            
             
               Peace
               upon
               Earth
               ,
               Good
               Will
               to
               Men
               ,
            
             
               Amen
               ,
               Amen
               ,
               say
               I.
               
            
          
           
             
               (
               3.
               )
            
             
               〈◊〉
               
               Adam's
               Race
               was
               Sathans
               prey
               ,
            
             
               〈◊〉
               And
               Dust
               the
               Serpent's
               Food
               :
            
             
               〈◊〉
               that
               were
               doom'd
               to
               be
               devour'd
               ,
            
             
               〈◊〉
               naked
               and
               Trembling
               stood
               .
            
             
             
               A
               VVise
               Eternal
               Pity
               then
            
             
               Did
               helpless
               Man
               befriend
               ;
            
             
               Our
               Help
               did
               in
               God's
               Bosom
               Lie
               ,
            
             
               And
               thence
               it
               did
               descend
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Love
               Cloathed
               with
               Humility
               ,
            
             
               Built
               here
               an
               House
               of
               Clay
               ;
            
             
               In
               which
               it
               dwelt
               ,
               and
               Rescu'd
               Man
               ;
            
             
               The
               Devil
               lost
               his
               prey
               :
            
             
               The
               spiteful
               Serpent
               bruis'd
               Christ's
               Heel
               ,
            
             
               But
               then
               Christ
               brake
               his
               Head
               ;
            
             
               And
               left
               Him
               Nail'd
               upon
               the
               Cross
               ,
            
             
               On
               which
               his
               Blood
               was
               shed
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Sing
               and
               triumph
               in
               boundless
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               thus
               hath
               set
               thee
               free
               ;
            
             
               Extol
               with
               shouts
               ,
               my
               saved
               Soul
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Saviours
               Love
               to
               thee
               :
            
             
               Give
               Endless
               Thanks
               to
               God
               ,
               and
               say
               ,
            
             
               VVhat
               Love
               was
               this
               in
               thee
               ;
            
             
               That
               thou
               hast
               not
               with
               held
               thy
               Son
               ,
            
             
               Thine
               only
               Son
               from
               Me
               !
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               VVhat
               were
               Ten
               Thousand
               Worlds
               to
               him
               ,
            
             
               Thine
               Image
               and
               Delight
               ,
            
             
               Had
               we
               been
               all
               cast
               down
               to
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               Justice
               had
               had
               its
               Right
               :
            
             
               Thy
               Glory
               might
               have
               been
               distrain'd
               ,
            
             
               Our
               Torments
               should
               Express
            
             
               Thy
               Pureness
               ,
               Justice
               ,
               Might
               and
               Truth
               ,
            
             
               And
               Everlastingness
            
          
           
             
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Thus
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               dreadful
               Attributes
               ,
            
             
               Man
               might
               have
               serv'd
               to
               prove
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Glorious
               Angels
               would
               have
               Sung
            
             
               The
               Riches
               of
               thy
               Love
               :
            
             
               Would'st
               thou
               have
               active
               Worshippers
               ,
            
             
               Besides
               the
               Angels
               Quire
               ?
            
             
               Millions
               had
               Issu'd
               at
               thy
               Word
               ,
            
             
               As
               Sparks
               arise
               from
               Fire
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Mans
               Room
               had
               quickly
               been
               Supply'd
               ,
            
             
               For
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               at
               thy
               Command
            
             
               A
               New
               Creation
               should
               appear
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Grace
               could
               make
               them
               stand
               :
            
             
               Or
               would'st
               thou
               shew
               thy
               pity
               ,
               Lord
               ?
            
             
               Thou
               might'st
               have
               looked
               then
            
             
               On
               Fallen
               Angels
               ,
               Fallen
               Stars
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               on
               Fallen
               Men.
               
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               But
               fallen
               Angels
               must
               be
               left
               ,
            
             
               And
               Fallen
               Men
               must
               rise
               ;
            
             
               For
               this
               ,
               the
               Son
               of
               God
               must
               Fall
            
             
               A
               Bloody
               Sacrifice
               :
            
             
               Thy
               Deep
               and
               Glorious
               Councels
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               With
               Trembling
               I
               Adore
               ;
            
             
               Blessed
               ,
               thrice
               blessed
               be
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               Blessed
               for
               evermore
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             XV.
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Gospel
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               BLest
               be
               my
               God
               that
               I
               was
               Born
               ,
            
             
               To
               hear
               the
               Joyful
               Sound
               ;
            
             
               That
               I
               was
               born
               to
               be
               Baptiz'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               Bred
               on
               Holy
               Ground
               :
            
             
               That
               I
               was
               Bred
               where
               God
               appears
               ,
            
             
               In
               Tokens
               of
               his
               Grace
               ;
            
             
               The
               Lines
               are
               Fallen
               unto
               me
               ,
            
             
               In
               a
               most
               pleasant
               place
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               I
               might
               have
               been
               a
               Pagan
               Bred
               ,
            
             
               Or
               else
               a
               Veiled
               Jew
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Cheated
               with
               an
               Alcoran
            
             
               Among
               the
               Turkish
               Crew
               .
            
             
               Dumb
               Pictures
               might
               have
               been
               my
               Books
               ,
            
             
               Dark
               Language
               my
               Devotion
               ;
            
             
               And
               so
               I
               might
               with
               blinded
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Have
               drunk
               a
               deadly
               Potion
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               So
               in
               a
               Dungeon
               dark
               as
               Night
               ,
            
             
               I
               might
               have
               Spent
               my
               days
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               hast
               sent
               me
               Gospel-Light
               ,
            
             
               To
               thine
               Eternal
               praise
               .
            
             
               The
               Sun
               which
               rose
               up
               in
               the
               East
               ,
            
             
               And
               drove
               their
               Shades
               away
               ;
            
             
               His
               Healing
               Wings
               have
               reach'd
               the
               West
               ,
            
             
               And
               turn'd
               our
               Night
               to
               Day
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               England
               at
               first
               an
               Egypt
               was
               ,
            
             
               Since
               that
               proud
               Babels
               Slave
               ;
            
             
               At
               last
               a
               Canaan
               it
               became
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               my
               Birth
               it
               gave
               .
            
             
               Blest
               be
               my
               God
               that
               I
               have
               slept
            
             
               The
               dismal
               Night
               away
               ;
            
             
               Being
               kept
               in
               Providence's
               Womb
               ,
            
             
               To
               England's
               brightest
               Day
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Blest
               be
               my
               God
               for
               what
               I
               see
               ,
            
             
               My
               God
               for
               what
               I
               hear
               ;
            
             
               I
               hear
               such
               blessed
               News
               from
               Heaven
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               Earth
               nor
               Hell
               I
               fear
               .
            
             
               I
               hear
               my
               Lord
               for
               me
               was
               born
               ,
            
             
               My
               Lord
               for
               Me
               did
               dye
               ;
            
             
               My
               Lord
               for
               Me
               did
               Rise
               again
               ,
            
             
               And
               did
               ascend
               on
               High.
               
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               On
               High
               he
               stands
               to
               plead
               my
               Cause
               ,
            
             
               And
               will
               return
               again
               ;
            
             
               And
               set
               Me
               on
               a
               Glorious
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               with
               Him
               may
               Reign
               .
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               the
               Father
               be
               ,
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               the
               Son
               ;
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               the
               Holy
               Ghost
               ;
            
             
               Glory
               to
               God
               Alone
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             a
             Gospel
             Ministry
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               FAir
               are
               the
               Feet
               which
               bring
               the
               News
            
             
               Of
               Gladness
               unto
               Me
               ;
            
             
               What
               Happy
               Messengers
               are
               these
            
             
               Which
               my
               bless'd
               Eyes
               do
               see
               !
            
             
               These
               are
               the
               Stars
               which
               God
               appoints
            
             
               For
               Guides
               unto
               my
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               To
               lead
               me
               unto
               
               Bethlem-Town
               ,
            
             
               Where
               my
               dear
               Saviour
               Lies
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               These
               are
               my
               Gods
               Ambassadors
               ,
            
             
               By
               whom
               his
               Mind
               I
               know
               ,
            
             
               God's
               Angels
               in
               his
               lower
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               God's
               Trumpeters
               below
               :
            
             
               The
               Trumpet
               sounds
               ,
               the
               Dead
               arise
               ,
            
             
               Which
               fell
               by
               
               Adam's
               Hand
               ;
            
             
               Again
               the
               Trumpet
               sounds
               ,
               and
               they
            
             
               Set
               forth
               for
               Canaans
               Land.
               
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               The
               Servants
               speak
               ,
               but
               thou
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               dost
            
             
               A
               hearing
               Ear
               bestow
               ;
            
             
               They
               smite
               the
               Rock
               ,
               but
               thou
               ,
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               Dost
               make
               the
               Waters
               flow
               :
            
             
               They
               shoot
               the
               Arrow
               ,
               but
               thy
               Hand
            
             
               Doth
               drive
               the
               Arrow
               home
               ;
            
             
               They
               call
               ,
               but
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               dost
               Compel
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               thy
               Guests
               are
               come
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Angels
               that
               flie
               ,
               and
               Worms
               that
               creep
               ,
            
             
               Are
               both
               alike
               to
               Thee
               ;
            
             
               If
               thou
               make
               Worms
               thine
               Angels
               ,
               〈◊〉
            
             
               They
               bring
               my
               God
               to
               me
            
             
               As
               Sons
               of
               Thunder
               first
               they
               〈◊〉
            
             
               And
               I
               the
               Lightning
               fear
               ,
            
             
               But
               then
               they
               bring
               me
               to
               my
               Home
               ,
            
             
               And
               Sons
               of
               Comfort
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               art
               in
               them
               of
               a
               Truth
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               might
               never
               stray
               ;
            
             
               The
               Clouds
               and
               Pillars
               march
               before
               ,
            
             
               And
               shew
               me
               Canaans
               way
               :
            
             
               I
               bless
               my
               God
               ,
               who
               is
               my
               Guide
               ;
            
             
               I
               sing
               in
               Sions
               ways
               ;
            
             
               When
               shall
               I
               sing
               on
               Sions
               Hill
               ,
            
             
               Thine
               Everlasting
               Praise
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             XVII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Holy
             Baptism
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               LOrd
               ,
               What
               is
               Man
               ,
               that
               Lump
               of
               Sin
               ,
            
             
               Made
               up
               of
               Earth
               and
               Hell
               ;
            
             
               Not
               fit
               to
               come
               within
               the
               Camp
            
             
               Where
               Holy
               Angels
               dwell
               ?
            
             
               Man
               is
               a
               Leper
               from
               the
               Womb
               ,
            
             
               An
               Ethiopian
               born
               ,
            
             
               A
               Traitor
               's
               Guilty
               Son
               and
               Heir
               ,
            
             
               VVorthy
               of
               pain
               and
               scorn
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               2.
               
            
             
               And
               dost
               thou
               ●ook
               on
               such
               a
               One
               ?
            
             
               Are
               not
               thine
               Eyes
               most
               pure
               ?
            
             
               〈◊〉
               they
               are
               Eyes
               of
               Pity
               too
               ,
            
             
               Where
               〈◊〉
               do
               beg
               a
               Cure.
            
             
               This
               〈…〉
               Loathsom
               Sight
               ,
            
             
               But
               Pay
               casts
               an
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               And
               bids
               him
               wash
               in
               
               Jordan's
               Streams
               ,
            
             
               To
               Cure
               his
               Leprosie
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               This
               Ethiopian
               Skin
               is
               chang'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               made
               as
               white
               as
               Snow
               ,
            
             
               When
               dipt
               in
               wonder-working
               Streams
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               from
               Christ's
               Side
               did
               flow
               :
            
             
               As
               Adam
               slept
               ,
               and
               from
               his
               Side
            
             
               A
               Killing
               Eve
               arose
               ;
            
             
               From
               my
               pierc'd
               Lord
               (
               that
               smitten
               Rock
               )
            
             
               A
               pure
               Life-Fountain
               flows
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Ah
               what
               a
               Tainted
               wretch
               is
               Man
               !
            
             
               And
               so
               he
               must
               have
               stood
               ,
            
             
               But
               lo
               !
               an
               Act
               of
               Sovereign
               Grace
            
             
               Restores
               him
               to
               his
               Blood
               :
            
             
               Save
               me
               ,
               my
               God
               ;
               for
               I
               am
               thine
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               own
               thy
               Seal
               to
               me
               ;
            
             
               O
               wash
               my
               Soul
               till
               it
               be
               cleans'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               purify'd
               for
               Thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Blest
               above
               Streams
               is
               
               Jordan's
               Flood
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               toucheth
               Canaans
               Shore
               .
            
             
             
               I
               'll
               sing
               thy
               Praise
               in
               
               Jordan's
               Streams
               ,
            
             
               In
               Canaan
               evermore
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XVIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Lord's
             Supper
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               O
               Praise
               the
               Lord
               !
               praise
               him
               ,
               praise
               him
               ,
            
             
               Sing
               Praises
               to
               his
               Name
               ;
            
             
               O
               all
               ye
               Saints
               of
               Heav'n
               and
               Earth
               ,
            
             
               Extol
               and
               Laud
               the
               same
               ;
            
             
               VVho
               spared
               not
               his
               only
               Son
               ,
            
             
               But
               gave
               Him
               for
               us
               all
               ;
            
             
               And
               made
               him
               drink
               the
               Cup
               of
               Wrath
               ,
            
             
               The
               VVormwood
               and
               the
               Gall.
               
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Frail
               Nature
               shrunk
               ,
               and
               did
               request
            
             
               That
               bitter
               Cup
               might
               pass
               ;
            
             
               But
               he
               must
               drink
               it
               off
               ,
               and
               this
            
             
               The
               Fathers
               Pleasure
               was
               :
            
             
               Lo
               then
               I
               come
               to
               do
               thy
               Will
               ,
            
             
               His
               blessed
               Son
               reply'd
               ;
            
             
               Yielding
               Himself
               to
               God
               and
               Man
               ,
            
             
               He
               stretch'd
               his
               Arms
               and
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               He
               Dy'd
               indeed
               ,
               but
               Rose
               again
               ,
            
             
               And
               did
               ascend
               on
               High
               ;
            
             
               That
               we
               poor
               Sinners
               lost
               and
               dead
               ,
            
             
               Might
               Live
               Eternally
               :
            
             
               Good
               Lord
               ,
               how
               many
               Souls
               in
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               Doth
               Vengeance
               vex
               and
               tear
               ;
            
             
             
               VVere
               it
               not
               for
               a
               Dying
               Christ
               ,
            
             
               Our
               Dwelling
               had
               been
               there
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               His
               Blood
               was
               shed
               instead
               of
               ours
               ,
            
             
               His
               Soul
               our
               Hell
               did
               bear
               ;
            
             
               He
               took
               our
               Sin
               ,
               gave
               us
               Himself
               ,
            
             
               VVhat
               an
               Exchange
               is
               here
               !
            
             
               VVhatever
               is
               not
               Hell
               it self
               ,
            
             
               For
               me
               it
               is
               too
               good
               :
            
             
               But
               must
               we
               Eat
               the
               Flesh
               of
               Christ
               ?
            
             
               And
               must
               we
               Drink
               his
               Blood
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               His
               Flesh
               is
               Heav'nly
               Food
               indeed
               ,
            
             
               His
               Blood
               is
               Drink
               Divine
               ;
            
             
               His
               Graces
               drop
               ,
               like
               Honey
               falls
               ,
            
             
               His
               Comforts
               taste
               like
               Wine
               ;
            
             
               Sweet
               Christ
               ,
               thou
               hast
               refresh'd
               our
               Souls
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               thine
               abundant
               Grace
               ;
            
             
               For
               which
               we
               magnifie
               thy
               Name
               ,
            
             
               Longing
               to
               see
               thy
               Face
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               When
               shall
               our
               Souls
               mount
               up
               to
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               Most
               Holy
               ,
               Just
               ,
               and
               True
               ,
            
             
               To
               eat
               that
               Bread
               ,
               and
               drink
               that
               Wine
               ;
            
             
               VVhich
               is
               for
               ever
               New
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             XIX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Lord's-Day
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               MY
               Lord
               ,
               my
               Love
               ,
               was
               Crucified
               ,
            
             
               He
               all
               the
               pains
               did
               bear
               ;
            
             
             
               But
               in
               the
               Sweetness
               of
               his
               Rest
               ,
            
             
               He
               makes
               his
               Servants
               share
               :
            
             
               How
               sweetly
               rest
               thy
               Saints
               above
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               thy
               Bosom
               lie
               ?
            
             
               Thy
               Church
               below
               ,
               doth
               Rest
               in
               hope
            
             
               Of
               that
               Felicity
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               who
               daily
               feed'st
               thy
               Sheep
               ,
            
             
               Mak'st
               them
               a
               weekly
               Feast
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Flocks
               meet
               in
               their
               several
               Folds
               ,
            
             
               Upon
               this
               Day
               of
               Rest
               ;
            
             
               Welcome
               and
               dear
               unto
               my
               Soul
               ,
            
             
               Are
               these
               sweet
               Feasts
               of
               Love
               ;
            
             
               But
               what
               a
               Sabbath
               shall
               I
               keep
               ,
            
             
               When
               I
               shall
               Rest
               above
               !
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               I
               bless
               thy
               wise
               and
               wondrous
               Love
               ,
            
             
               Which
               binds
               us
               to
               be
               free
               ;
            
             
               Which
               makes
               us
               leave
               our
               Earthly
               Snare
               ,
            
             
               That
               we
               may
               come
               to
               thee
               ;
            
             
               I
               come
               ,
               I
               wait
               ,
               I
               hear
               ,
               I
               pray
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Footsteps
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               I
               trace
               ;
            
             
               I
               sing
               to
               think
               this
               is
               the
               way
            
             
               Unto
               my
               Saviours
               Face
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               These
               are
               my
               Preparation-days
               ;
            
             
               And
               when
               my
               Soul
               is
               Drest
               ,
            
             
               ●se
               Sabbaths
               shall
               deliver
               Me
            
             
               〈◊〉
               mine
               Eternal
               Rest
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             XX.
             Another
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               BLest
               Day
               of
               God
               ,
               most
               calm
               ,
               most
               bright
               ,
            
             
               The
               first
               and
               best
               of
               Days
               ;
            
             
               The
               Lab'rours
               Rest
               ,
               the
               Saints
               Delight
               ,
            
             
               A
               day
               of
               Mirth
               and
               Praise
               :
            
             
               My
               Saviours
               Face
               did
               make
               thee
               shine
               ,
            
             
               His
               rising
               did
               thee
               raise
               ;
            
             
               This
               made
               thee
               Heavenly
               and
               Divine
               ,
            
             
               Beyond
               the
               common
               Days
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               The
               First-fruits
               do
               a
               Blessing
               prove
            
             
               To
               all
               the
               Sheaves
               behind
               ,
            
             
               And
               they
               that
               do
               a
               Sabbath
               love
               ,
            
             
               An
               happy
               Week
               shall
               find
               :
            
             
               My
               Lord
               on
               Thee
               his
               Name
               did
               fix
               ,
            
             
               Which
               makes
               thee
               Rich
               and
               Gay
               ;
            
             
               Amidst
               his
               Golden
               Candlesticks
               ,
            
             
               My
               Saviour
               walks
               this
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               He
               walks
               in
               's
               Robes
               ,
               his
               Face
               ●unes
               bright
               ,
            
             
               The
               Stars
               are
               in
               his
               Hand
               ;
            
             
               Out
               of
               his
               Mouth
               ,
               that
               place
               of
               Might
               ,
            
             
               A
               Two-edg'd
               Sword
               doth
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Grac'd
               with
               our
               Lord's
               Appearance
               th●
            
             
               As
               well
               as
               with
               his
               Name
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               may'st
               demand
               Respect
               from
               us
               ,
            
             
               Upon
               a
               double
               Claim
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               This
               day
               God
               doth
               his
               Vessels
               broach
               ;
            
             
               His
               Conduits
               run
               with
               Wine
               ;
            
             
               He
               that
               loves
               not
               this
               days
               approach
               ,
            
             
               Scorns
               Heaven
               and
               Saviours
               shine
               :
            
             
               VVhat
               Slaves
               are
               those
               who
               Slav'ry
               chuse
               ,
            
             
               And
               Garlick
               for
               their
               Feast
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               Milk
               and
               Honey
               they
               refuse
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               Almighty's
               Rest
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               This
               Market-day
               doth
               Saints
               enrich
               ,
            
             
               And
               smiles
               upon
               them
               all
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               their
               Pentecost
               ,
               on
               which
            
             
               The
               Holy
               Ghost
               doth
               fall
               :
            
             
               O
               Day
               of
               Wonders
               !
               Mercies
               pawn
               ,
            
             
               The
               weary
               Souls
               Recruit
               ;
            
             
               The
               Christians
               Goshen
               ,
               Heavens
               Dawn
               ,
            
             
               The
               Bud
               of
               Endless
               Fruit
               ,
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Oh
               could
               I
               love
               as
               I
               have
               lov'd
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Watches
               heretofore
               ;
            
             
               As
               
               England's
               Glory
               thou
               hast
               prov'd
               ,
            
             
               May'st
               thou
               be
               so
               yet
               more
               :
            
             
               This
               day
               must
               I
               for
               God
               appear
               ,
            
             
               For
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               the
               day
               is
               thine
               ;
            
             
               O
               let
               me
               spend
               it
               in
               thy
               Fear
               !
            
             
               Then
               shall
               the
               day
               be
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Cease
               ,
               Work
               and
               Play
               ,
               throughout
               the
               day
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               to
               God
               may
               rest
               ;
            
             
             
               Now
               let
               me
               Talk
               with
               God
               ,
               and
               Walk
            
             
               With
               God
               ,
               and
               I
               am
               blest
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Patience
             of
             God.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               ALmighty
               God
               ,
               how
               hast
               thou
               born
            
             
               Wrongs
               not
               to
               be
               exprest
               ;
            
             
               Daring
               Rebellion
               ,
               Injur'd
               Love
               ,
            
             
               Light
               quenched
               in
               my
               Breast
               !
            
             
               Man
               would
               be
               God
               ,
               and
               down
               he
               fell
               ,
            
             
               To
               teach
               him
               better
               Skill
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               he
               lifts
               up
               his
               bruised
               Bones
            
             
               Against
               his
               Maker
               still
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               what
               a
               Monster
               is
               base
               Man
               ,
            
             
               Thus
               given
               to
               Rebel
               !
            
             
               O
               that
               thou
               dost
               not
               cleave
               the
               Earth
               ,
            
             
               And
               send
               him
               quick
               to
               Hell
               !
            
             
               His
               Sins
               for
               Wages
               loudly
               Cry
               ,
            
             
               Justice
               with
               dreadful
               sound
            
             
               Cries
               too
               ,
               Cut
               down
               this
               fruitless
               Tree
               ,
            
             
               VVhy
               cumbers
               it
               the
               Ground
               ?
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               But
               God
               waves
               his
               Advantages
            
             
               Of
               Right
               and
               Vengeance
               too
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               his
               single
               Patience
               ,
            
             
               Doth
               daring
               Man
               out-do
               :
            
             
               The
               Creature
               doth
               disdain
               his
               God
               ,
            
             
               By
               whom
               he
               is
               Maintain'd
               ;
            
             
             
               Yet
               God
               Maintains
               this
               Rebel-worm
               ,
            
             
               By
               whom
               he
               is
               disdain'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Fool
               ,
               ask
               not
               where
               th'
               Almighty
               is
               ,
            
             
               All
               Glory
               to
               Him
               give
               ;
            
             
               Is
               not
               his
               Power
               fully
               prov'd
               ,
            
             
               In
               suffring
               Thee
               to
               Live
               ?
            
             
               VVas
               he
               not
               God
               ,
               he
               could
               not
               bear
               ,
            
             
               Such
               VVeights
               as
               on
               him
               lie
               ;
            
             
               VVeak
               things
               are
               quickly
               set
               on
               Fire
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               their
               VVeapons
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               VVhy
               should
               not
               Patience
               make
               me
               sing
               ,
            
             
               VVhen
               Hell
               would
               make
               me
               roar
               ?
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               let
               thy
               Patience
               end
               in
               Love
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               sing
               for
               evermore
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Pardon
             of
             Sin.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               MY
               God
               a
               God
               of
               Pardon
               is
               ,
            
             
               His
               Bosom
               gives
               me
               Ease
               ;
            
             
               I
               have
               not
               ,
               do
               not
               please
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               Mercy
               Him
               doth
               please
               :
            
             
               My
               Sins
               aloud
               for
               Vengeance
               call
               ,
            
             
               But
               lo
               !
               a
               Fountain
               springs
            
             
               From
               Christ's
               pierc'd
               Side
               ,
               which
               louder
               cries
               ,
            
             
               And
               speaketh
               better
               things
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               My
               sins
               have
               reach'd
               up
               to
               the
               Heav'ns
               ,
            
             
               But
               Mercies
               Height
               exceeds
               ;
            
             
             
               God's
               Mercy
               is
               above
               the
               Heav'ns
               ,
            
             
               Above
               my
               sinful
               deeds
               ;
            
             
               My
               sins
               are
               many
               ,
               like
               the
               Stars
               ,
            
             
               Or
               sands
               upon
               the
               Shore
               ;
            
             
               But
               yet
               the
               Mercies
               of
               my
               God
            
             
               Are
               infinitely
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               My
               Sins
               in
               bigness
               do
               arise
            
             
               Like
               Mountains
               Great
               and
               Tall
               ;
            
             
               But
               Mercy
               ,
               like
               a
               mighty
               Sea
               ,
            
             
               Covers
               these
               Mountains
               all
               :
            
             
               This
               is
               a
               Sea
               that
               's
               Bottomless
               ,
            
             
               A
               Sea
               without
               a
               Shore
               ;
            
             
               For
               where
               sin
               hath
               abounded
               much
               ,
            
             
               Mercies
               abound
               much
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Manasseh
               ,
               Paul
               and
               Magdalen
               ,
            
             
               Were
               Pardon'd
               all
               by
               Thee
               ;
            
             
               I
               read
               it
               ,
               and
               believe
               it
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               For
               thou
               hast
               pardon'd
               Me
               :
            
             
               When
               God
               shall
               search
               the
               World
               for
               sin
               ,
            
             
               What
               trembling
               will
               be
               there
               ?
            
             
               O
               Rocks
               and
               Mountains
               cover
               us
               ,
            
             
               VVill
               be
               the
               Sinners
               Prayer
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               But
               the
               Lamb's
               wrath
               they
               need
               not
               fear
               ,
            
             
               Who
               once
               have
               felt
               his
               Love
               ;
            
             
               And
               they
               that
               walk
               with
               God
               below
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               dwell
               with
               God
               above
               :
            
             
               Rage
               Earth
               and
               Hell
               ,
               come
               Life
               ,
               come
               Death
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               still
               my
               song
               shall
               be
               ,
            
             
             
               God
               was
               ,
               and
               is
               ,
               and
               will
               be
               good
               ,
            
             
               And
               merciful
               to
               Me.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             XXIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Peace
             of
             Conscience
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               MY
               God
               ,
               my
               reconciled
               God
               ,
            
             
               Creator
               of
               my
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               Thee
               will
               I
               love
               ,
               and
               praise
               and
               sing
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Life
               and
               Breath
               shall
               cease
               :
            
             
               My
               Thoughts
               did
               rage
               ,
               my
               Soul
               was
               tost
               ,
            
             
               'T
               was
               like
               a
               troubled
               Sea
               ;
            
             
               But
               what
               a
               Mighty
               Voice
               is
               this
               ,
            
             
               Which
               winds
               and
               waves
               obey
               !
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               God
               spake
               the
               word
               ,
               
                 Peace
                 and
                 be
                 still
              
               ,
            
             
               My
               Sins
               ,
               those
               Mutineers
            
             
               With
               speed
               went
               off
               and
               took
               their
               flight
               ,
            
             
               Where
               now
               are
               all
               my
               fears
               ?
            
             
               The
               VVorld
               can
               neither
               give
               nor
               take
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               yet
               can
               understand
            
             
               That
               Peace
               of
               God
               ,
               which
               Christ
               hath
               brought
               ,
            
             
               And
               gives
               me
               with
               his
               Hand
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               This
               is
               my
               Saviour's
               Legacy
               ,
            
             
               Confirm'd
               by
               his
               Decease
               ;
            
             
               Ye
               shall
               have
               Trouble
               in
               the
               VVorld
               ,
            
             
               In
               Me
               ye
               shall
               have
               Peace
               ;
            
             
               And
               so
               it
               is
               ,
               the
               World
               doth
               rage
               ,
            
             
               And
               Peace
               in
               me
               doth
               Reign
               ;
            
             
             
               And
               whilst
               my
               God
               maintains
               the
               Fort
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Batt'ries
               are
               in
               vain
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               Burning
               Bush
               was
               not
               consum'd
               ,
            
             
               VVhilst
               God
               remained
               there
               ;
            
             
               The
               Three
               ,
               when
               Christ
               did
               make
               the
               Fourth
               ,
            
             
               Found
               Fire
               as
               weak
               as
               Air
               :
            
             
               So
               is
               my
               Mem'ry
               stufft
               with
               Sins
               ,
            
             
               Enough
               to
               make
               an
               Hell
               ;
            
             
               And
               yet
               my
               Conscience
               is
               not
               scorch'd
               ,
            
             
               For
               God
               in
               Me
               doth
               dwell
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               VVhere
               God
               doth
               dwell
               ,
               sure
               Heav'n
               is
               there
               ,
            
             
               And
               Singing
               there
               must
               be
               ;
            
             
               Since
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               Presence
               makes
               my
               Heaven
               ,
            
             
               VVhom
               should
               I
               sing
               but
               Thee
               ?
            
             
               My
               God
               ,
               my
               reconciled
               God
               ,
            
             
               Creator
               of
               my
               Peace
               ;
            
             
               Thee
               will
               I
               love
               ,
               and
               praise
               ,
               and
               sing
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Life
               and
               Breath
               shall
               cease
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXIV
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Joy
             in
             the
             H.
             Ghost
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               MY
               Soul
               doth
               magnifie
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               My
               Spirit
               doth
               rejoyce
            
             
               In
               God
               my
               Saviour
               ,
               and
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               I
               hear
               his
               joyful
               Voice
               ;
            
             
               I
               need
               not
               go
               abroad
               for
               Joy
               ,
            
             
               VVho
               have
               a
               feast
               at
               Home
               ;
            
             
             
               My
               Sighs
               are
               turned
               into
               Songs
               ,
            
             
               The
               Comforter
               is
               come
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Down
               from
               above
               ,
               the
               blessed
               Dove
            
             
               Is
               come
               into
               my
               Breast
               ;
            
             
               To
               witness
               God's
               Eternal
               Love
               ,
            
             
               This
               is
               my
               Heav'nly
               Feast
               :
            
             
               This
               makes
               me
               
                 Abba
                 Father
              
               cry
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               Confidence
               of
               Soul
               ;
            
             
               It
               makes
               me
               cry
               ,
               my
               Lord
               ,
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               without
               Controul
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               There
               is
               a
               Stream
               ,
               which
               Issues
               forth
            
             
               From
               God's
               Eternal
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               And
               from
               the
               Lamb
               ;
               a
               living
               Stream
               ,
            
             
               Clear
               as
               the
               Crystal
               Stone
               :
            
             
               This
               Stream
               doth
               water
               Paradise
               ,
            
             
               It
               makes
               the
               Angels
               sing
               ,
            
             
               One
               Cordial
               Drop
               revives
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Hence
               all
               my
               Joys
               do
               spring
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Such
               Joys
               as
               are
               unspeakable
               ,
            
             
               And
               full
               of
               Glory
               too
               ;
            
             
               Such
               hidden
               Manna
               ,
               hidden
               Pearls
               ,
            
             
               As
               worldings
               do
               not
               know
               :
            
             
               Eye
               hath
               not
               seen
               ,
               nor
               Ear
               hath
               heard
               ,
            
             
               From
               Fancy
               't
               is
               conceal'd
               ;
            
             
               VVhat
               thou
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               hast
               laid
               up
               for
               thine
               ,
            
             
               And
               hast
               to
               me
               reveal'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               5.
               
            
             
               I
               see
               thy
               Face
               ,
               I
               hear
               thy
               Voice
               ,
            
             
               I
               taste
               thy
               sweetest
               Love
               ;
            
             
               My
               Soul
               doth
               leap
               ;
               but
               O
               for
               wings
               ,
            
             
               The
               Wings
               of
               
               Noah's
               Dove
               !
            
             
               Then
               should
               I
               Flee
               far
               hence
               away
               ,
            
             
               Leaving
               this
               world
               of
               sin
               ;
            
             
               Then
               should
               my
               Lord
               put
               forth
               his
               Hand
               ,
            
             
               And
               kindly
               take
               me
               in
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Then
               should
               my
               Soul
               with
               Angels
               Feast
            
             
               On
               Joys
               that
               always
               last
               ;
            
             
               Blest
               be
               my
               God
               ,
               the
               God
               of
               Joy
               ,
            
             
               Who
               gives
               me
               here
               a
               Taste
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXV
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Grace
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               O
               God
               of
               Grace
               ,
               who
               hast
               Restor'd
            
             
               Thine
               Image
               unto
               Me
               ,
            
             
               Which
               by
               my
               Sins
               was
               quite
               defac'd
               ,
            
             
               What
               shall
               I
               render
               Thee
               ?
            
             
               Thine
               Image
               and
               Inscription
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Upon
               my
               Heart
               I
               bear
               ;
            
             
               Thine
               own
               I
               render
               unto
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               O
               God
               ,
               my
               God
               most
               dear
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               My self
               I
               owe
               Thee
               for
               my self
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               Thou
               didst
               make
               of
               Earth
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               hast
               made
               me
               o're
               again
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               gav'st
               a
               Second
               Birth
               :
            
             
             
               Twice
               born
               ,
               and
               twice
               endu'd
               with
               Life
               ,
            
             
               I
               hast
               to
               come
               to
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               To
               pay
               my
               Vows
               ,
               my
               Thanks
               ,
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               With
               all
               Humility
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               O
               was
               I
               Born
               first
               from
               Beneath
               !
            
             
               And
               then
               Born
               from
               above
               !
            
             
               Am
               I
               a
               Child
               of
               Man
               and
               God
               ?
            
             
               O
               Rich
               and
               Endless
               Love
               !
            
             
               When
               I
               had
               broke
               the
               Tables
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               New
               Tables
               thou
               didst
               Hew
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               thy
               Finger
               didst
               Engrave
            
             
               Thy
               Laws
               on
               them
               anew
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Earth
               is
               my
               Mother
               ,
               Earth
               my
               Nurse
               ,
            
             
               And
               Earth
               must
               be
               my
               Tomb
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               God
               ,
               the
               God
               of
               Heav'n
               and
               Earth
               ,
            
             
               My
               Father
               is
               become
               :
            
             
               Hell
               enter'd
               Me
               ,
               and
               into
               Hell
            
             
               I
               quickly
               should
               have
               Run
               ;
            
             
               But
               O!
               kind
               Heav'n
               laid
               hold
               on
               Me
               ,
            
             
               Heav'n
               is
               in
               Me
               begun
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               This
               Spark
               will
               rise
               into
               a
               Flame
               ,
            
             
               This
               Seed
               into
               a
               Tree
               ;
            
             
               My
               Songs
               shall
               rise
               ,
               my
               Praises
               shall
            
             
               Loud
               Hallelujahs
               be
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             XXVI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Answer
             of
             Prayer
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               WHat
               are
               the
               Heav'ns
               ,
               O
               God
               of
               Heaven
               !
            
             
               Thou
               art
               more
               bright
               ,
               more
               high
               ;
            
             
               What
               are
               bright
               Stars
               ,
               and
               brighter
               Saints
               ,
            
             
               To
               thy
               bright
               Majesty
               !
            
             
               Thou'
               rt
               far
               above
               the
               Songs
               of
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               Sung
               by
               the
               Holy
               Ones
               ;
            
             
               And
               dost
               thou
               stoop
               and
               bow
               thine
               Ear
            
             
               To
               a
               poor
               Sinners
               groans
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               God
               minds
               the
               Language
               of
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               My
               Groans
               and
               Sighs
               he
               hears
               ;
            
             
               He
               hath
               a
               Book
               for
               my
               Request
               ,
            
             
               A
               Bottle
               for
               my
               Tears
               :
            
             
               But
               did
               not
               my
               dear
               Saviour's
               Blood
               ,
            
             
               First
               wash
               away
               their
               Guilt
               ;
            
             
               My
               Sighs
               would
               prove
               but
               empty
               Air
               ,
            
             
               My
               Tears
               would
               all
               be
               spilt
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thine
               Eternal
               Spirit
               was
            
             
               My
               Advocate
               within
               ;
            
             
               But
               O!
               my
               Smoak
               joyn'd
               with
               thy
               Flame
               ,
            
             
               My
               Prayer
               was
               mixt
               with
               Sin
               :
            
             
               But
               then
               Christ
               was
               my
               Altar
               ,
               and
            
             
               My
               Advocate
               above
               ;
            
             
               His
               Blood
               did
               clear
               my
               Prayer
               ,
               and
               gain'd
            
             
               An
               Answer
               full
               of
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               It
               could
               not
               be
               that
               thou
               shouldst
               hear
            
             
               A
               Mortal
               sinful
               Worm
               ;
            
             
               But
               that
               my
               Prayers
               presented
               are
            
             
               In
               a
               more
               glorious
               Form
               :
            
             
               Christ's
               precious
               Hands
               took
               my
               Requests
               ,
            
             
               And
               turn'd
               my
               Dross
               to
               Gold
               ;
            
             
               His
               Blood
               put
               warmth
               into
               my
               Prayers
               ,
            
             
               Which
               were
               by
               Nature
               cold
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Thou
               heard'st
               my
               Groans
               for
               Jesus
               sake
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               thou
               dost
               hear
               always
               ;
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               hear
               through
               that
               prevailing
               Name
               ,
            
             
               My
               Voice
               of
               Joy
               and
               Praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXVII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Deliverance
             from
             Enemies
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               GReat
               God
               ,
               who
               dost
               the
               World
               command
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               check'st
               both
               winds
               and
               waves
               ;
            
             
               The
               Devils
               ,
               which
               like
               Lions
               Roar
               ,
            
             
               Are
               thine
               Enchain'd
               Slaves
               :
            
             
               The
               Sons
               of
               Rage
               are
               smoaking
               Brands
               ,
            
             
               And
               Idols
               fear'd
               in
               vain
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               Lord
               ,
               the
               only
               ,
               only
               God
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Fury
               dost
               restrain
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               didst
               smooth
               fierce
               
               Esau's
               Brow
               ,
            
             
               And
               change
               his
               Murm'ring
               Breath
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               gav'st
               to
               him
               a
               Brothers
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Who
               vow'd
               his
               Brothers
               Death
               :
            
             
               Angels
               have
               Arm'd
               ,
               at
               thy
               Command
               ,
            
             
               And
               Stars
               have
               shot
               their
               Dart
               ;
            
             
               Nature
               hath
               fought
               ,
               and
               Miracles
            
             
               Have
               took
               thy
               Churches
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Thee
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               who
               still
               thy
               Church
               dost
               love
               ,
            
             
               All
               Creatures
               must
               obey
               ;
            
             
               And
               when
               for
               Thine
               thou
               dost
               arise
               ,
            
             
               Their
               En'mies
               ,
               where
               are
               they
               ?
            
             
               I
               cry'd
               to
               Heav'n
               in
               my
               Distress
               ,
            
             
               I
               to
               my
               God
               did
               flee
               ;
            
             
               He
               with
               Compassion
               heard
               my
               Cry
               ,
            
             
               He
               did
               Arise
               for
               Me.
               
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               With
               humble
               Fear
               ,
               and
               thankful
               Joy
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               at
               thy
               Feet
               I
               fall
               ,
            
             
               Unfeignedly
               acknowledging
               ,
            
             
               That
               Thou
               alone
               dost
               all
               .
            
             
               Thou
               art
               all
               Pow'r
               ,
               thou
               art
               all
               Love
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               thou
               art
               to
               Me
               ;
            
             
               Blest
               be
               my
               God
               ,
               now
               and
               henceforth
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               Eternity
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             XXVIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Deliverance
             from
             Spiritual
             Troubles
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               I
               That
               am
               drawn
               out
               of
               the
               Depth
               ,
            
             
               Will
               sing
               upon
               the
               Shore
               ;
            
             
               I
               that
               in
               Hell's
               dark
               Suburbs
               lay
               ,
            
             
               Pure
               Mercy
               will
               adore
               :
            
             
               The
               Terrors
               of
               the
               Living
               God
               ,
            
             
               My
               Soul
               did
               so
               affright
               ;
            
             
               I
               fear'd
               lest
               I
               should
               be
               condemn'd
            
             
               To
               an
               Eternal
               Night
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Kind
               was
               the
               Pity
               of
               my
               Friends
               ,
            
             
               But
               could
               not
               Ease
               my
               Smart
               ;
            
             
               Their
               Words
               indeed
               did
               reach
               my
               Case
               ,
            
             
               But
               could
               not
               reach
               my
               Heart
               :
            
             
               Ah
               ,
               then
               what
               was
               this
               World
               to
               Me
               ,
            
             
               To
               whom
               God's
               Word
               was
               dark
               !
            
             
               Who
               in
               my
               Dungeon
               cou'd
               not
               see
            
             
               One
               Beam
               ,
               or
               shining
               Spark
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               What
               then
               were
               all
               the
               Creatures
               Smiles
               ,
            
             
               When
               the
               Creator
               frown'd
               ?
            
             
               My
               Days
               were
               Nights
               ,
               my
               Life
               was
               Death
               ,
            
             
               My
               Being
               was
               my
               VVound
               :
            
             
               Trtur'd
               and
               wrack'd
               with
               Hellish
               Fears
               ,
            
             
               VVhen
               God
               the
               Blow
               should
               give
               ;
            
             
               ●ne
               Eyes
               did
               fail
               ,
               my
               Heart
               did
               sink
               ,
            
             
               Then
               Mercy
               bid
               me
               live
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               God's
               Furnace
               doth
               in
               Sion
               stand
               ,
            
             
               But
               
               Sion's
               God
               sits
               by
               ;
            
             
               As
               the
               Refiner
               views
               his
               Gold
            
             
               With
               an
               observant
               Eye
               :
            
             
               God's
               Thoughts
               are
               high
               ,
               his
               Love
               is
               wise
               ,
            
             
               His
               Wounds
               a
               Cure
               intend
               ;
            
             
               And
               tho'
               he
               doth
               not
               always
               smile
               ,
            
             
               He
               loves
               unto
               the
               end
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Love
               is
               constant
               to
               its
               Line
               ,
            
             
               Tho'
               Clouds
               oft
               come
               between
               ;
            
             
               O
               could
               my
               Faith
               but
               pierce
               these
               Clouds
               ,
            
             
               It
               might
               be
               always
               seen
               :
            
             
               But
               I
               am
               weak
               ,
               and
               forc'd
               to
               cry
               ,
            
             
               Take
               up
               my
               Soul
               to
               thee
               ;
            
             
               Then
               as
               thou
               ever
               art
               the
               same
               ;
            
             
               So
               shall
               I
               ever
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Then
               shall
               I
               ever
               ,
               ever
               sing
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               dost
               ever
               shine
               ;
            
             
               I
               have
               thine
               own
               dear
               Pledge
               for
               this
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               art
               ever
               mine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXIX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             Deliverance
             from
             imminent
             Dangers
             of
             Death
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               LOrd
               of
               my
               Life
               ,
               length
               of
               my
               Days
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Hand
               hath
               rescu'd
               me
               ;
            
             
               Who
               lying
               at
               the
               Gates
               of
               Death
            
             
               Among
               the
               dead
               ,
               was
               free
               .
            
             
             
               My
               dearest
               Friends
               I
               had
               resign'd
            
             
               Unto
               their
               Makers
               Care
               ;
            
             
               Me
               thought
               I
               only
               time
               had
               lest
            
             
               For
               a
               concluding
               Prayer
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Me
               thoughts
               Death
               laid
               his
               Hand
               〈…〉
            
             
               And
               did
               his
               Pris'n●●
               〈…〉
            
             
               And
               by
               the
               sound
               me
               ●●oughts
               I
               heard
               ,
            
             
               His
               Masters
               Feet
               behind
               :
            
             
               Me
               thoughts
               I
               stood
               upon
               the
               Shore
               ,
            
             
               And
               nothing
               could
               I
               see
               ,
            
             
               But
               the
               Vast
               Ocean
               with
               my
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               A
               Vast
               Eternity
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Me
               thoughts
               I
               heard
               the
               Midnight
               Cry
               ,
            
             
               Behold
               the
               Bridegroom
               comes
               ;
            
             
               Me
               thoughts
               I
               was
               call'd
               to
               the
               Bar
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Souls
               receive
               their
               Dooms
               :
            
             
               The
               VVorld
               was
               at
               an
               End
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               it
               all
               did
               Burn
               ;
            
             
               But
               lo
               !
               there
               came
               a
               Voice
               from
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               order'd
               my
               Return
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               return'd
               at
               thy
               Command
               ,
            
             
               VVhat
               wilt
               thou
               have
               me
               do
               ?
            
             
               O
               let
               me
               wholly
               live
               to
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               To
               whom
               my
               Life
               I
               owe
               !
            
             
               Fain
               would
               I
               dedicate
               to
               Thee
            
             
               The
               Remnant
               of
               my
               Days
               ;
            
             
             
               Lord
               ,
               with
               my
               Life
               renew
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               That
               both
               thy
               Name
               may
               praise
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXX
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             for
             the
             Hope
             of
             Glory
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               I
               Sojourn
               in
               a
               Vale
               of
               Tears
               ,
            
             
               Alas
               ,
               how
               〈◊〉
               sing
               !
            
             
               My
               Harp
               doth
               on
               the
               Willows
               hang
               ,
            
             
               Distun'd
               in
               every
               String
               :
            
             
               My
               Musick
               is
               a
               Captives
               Chains
               ,
            
             
               Harsh
               Sounds
               my
               Ears
               do
               fill
               ;
            
             
               How
               shall
               I
               sing
               sweet
               Sions
               Song
               ,
            
             
               On
               this
               side
               Sions
               Hill
               ?
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Yet
               lo
               !
               I
               hear
               a
               Joyful
               Sound
               ,
            
             
               Surely
               I
               quickly
               come
               ;
            
             
               Each
               word
               much
               sweetness
               doth
               distil
               ,
            
             
               Like
               a
               full
               Honey-Comb
               :
            
             
               And
               dost
               thou
               come
               ,
               my
               dearest
               Lord
               ?
            
             
               And
               dost
               thou
               surely
               come
               ?
            
             
               And
               dost
               thou
               surely
               quickly
               come
               ?
            
             
               Methinks
               I
               am
               at
               Home
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Come
               then
               my
               dearest
               ,
               dearest
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               My
               sweetest
               ,
               surest
               Friend
               ;
            
             
               Come
               ,
               for
               I
               loath
               these
               Kedar
               Tents
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Fiery
               Chariots
               send
               :
            
             
               What
               have
               I
               here
               ?
               my
               Thoughts
               and
               Joys
            
             
               Are
               all
               pack'd
               up
               and
               gone
               ;
            
             
               My
               Eager
               Soul
               would
               follow
               them
               ,
            
             
               To
               thine
               Eternal
               Throne
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               What
               have
               I
               in
               this
               Barren
               Land
               ?
            
             
               My
               Jesus
               is
               not
               here
               ;
            
             
               Mine
               Eyes
               will
               ne're
               be
               blest
               until
            
             
               My
               Jesus
               doth
               appear
               :
            
             
               My
               Jesus
               is
               gone
               up
               to
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               To
               get
               a
               Place
               for
               me
               ;
            
             
               For
               't
               is
               his
               Will
               that
               where
               he
               is
               ,
            
             
               There
               should
               his
               Servants
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Canaan
               I
               view
               from
               Pisgahs
               Top
               ,
            
             
               Of
               Canaans
               Grapes
               I
               taste
               ;
            
             
               My
               Lord
               who
               sends
               unto
               me
               here
               ,
            
             
               Will
               send
               for
               me
               at
               last
               :
            
             
               I
               have
               a
               God
               that
               changeth
               not
               ,
            
             
               Why
               should
               I
               be
               perplext
               ?
            
             
               My
               God
               that
               owns
               Me
               in
               this
               World
               ,
            
             
               Will
               own
               me
               in
               the
               next
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Go
               fearless
               then
               ,
               my
               Soul
               ,
               with
               God
               ,
            
             
               Into
               another
               Room
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               who
               hast
               walked
               with
               him
               here
               ,
            
             
               Go
               see
               thy
               God
               at
               Home
               :
            
             
               View
               Death
               with
               a
               believing
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               It
               hath
               an
               Angels
               Face
               ;
            
             
               And
               this
               kind
               Angel
               will
               prefer
            
             
               Thee
               to
               an
               Angels
               place
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               The
               Grave
               is
               but
               a
               Fining-Pot
            
             
               Unto
               believing
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
             
               For
               there
               the
               Flesh
               shall
               lose
               its
               dross
               ,
            
             
               And
               like
               the
               Sun
               shall
               rise
               ;
            
             
               The
               world
               ,
               which
               I
               have
               known
               too
               well
            
             
               Hath
               mock'd
               me
               with
               its
               Lies
               ;
            
             
               How
               gladly
               could
               I
               leave
               behind
            
             
               Its
               vexing
               Vanities
               ?
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               My
               dearest
               Friends
               ,
               they
               dwell
               above
               ,
            
             
               Them
               will
               I
               go
               to
               see
               ;
            
             
               And
               all
               my
               Friends
               in
               Christ
               below
               ,
            
             
               VVill
               soon
               come
               after
               me
               :
            
             
               Fear
               not
               the
               Trumps
               Earth
               rending
               Sound
               ,
            
             
               Dread
               not
               the
               Day
               of
               Doom
               ;
            
             
               For
               he
               that
               is
               to
               be
               thy
               Judge
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Saviour
               is
               become
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Blest
               be
               my
               God
               that
               gives
               me
               Light
               ,
            
             
               VVho
               in
               the
               dark
               did
               grope
               ;
            
             
               Blest
               be
               my
               God
               ,
               the
               God
               of
               Love
               ,
            
             
               VVho
               causeth
               me
               to
               hope
               :
            
             
               Here
               's
               the
               words
               Signets
               ,
               Comforts
               Staff
               ,
            
             
               And
               here
               is
               Graces
               Chain
               ;
            
             
               But
               these
               thy
               Pledges
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               I
               know
            
             
               My
               Hopes
               are
               not
               in
               vain
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             XXXI
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             collected
             out
             of
             the
             Book
             of
             Psalms
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 135.1
                 .
              
               O
               Praise
               the
               Lord
               ,
               Praise
               Him
               ,
               praise
               Him
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               Him
               with
               one
               accord
               .
            
             
             
               Praise
               him
               ,
               praise
               him
               all
               ye
               that
               be
            
             
               The
               Servants
               of
               the
               Lord.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 47.6
                 .
              
               Sing
               Praises
               to
               our
               God
               ,
               sing
               Praise
               ,
            
             
               Sing
               Praises
               to
               our
               King
               ;
            
             
               Praise
               to
               the
               King
               of
               all
               the
               Earth
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               Understanding
               sing
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 103.1
                 .
              
               My
               Soul
               give
               Laud
               unto
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               My
               Spirit
               shall
               do
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               Secrets
               of
               my
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               ye
               his
               Holy
               Name
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 95.6
                 .
              
               Come
               let
               us
               bow
               and
               praise
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Before
               him
               let
               us
               fall
               ,
            
             
               And
               kneel
               to
               him
               with
               one
               accord
               ,
            
             
               For
               he
               hath
               made
               us
               all
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 95.7
                 .
              
               He
               is
               the
               Lord
               ,
               he
               is
               our
               God
               ,
            
             
               For
               us
               he
               doth
               provide
               ;
            
             
               VVe
               are
               his
               Flock
               ,
               he
               doth
               us
               feed
               ;
            
             
               His
               Sheep
               ,
               he
               doth
               us
               guide
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 118.21
                 .
              
               I
               will
               give
               Thanks
               unto
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Because
               he
               hath
               heard
               me
               ,
            
             
               And
               is
               become
               most
               lovingly
            
             
               A
               Saviour
               unto
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 118.13
                 .
              
               The
               Lord
               is
               my
               Defence
               and
               Strength
               ,
            
             
               My
               Joy
               ,
               my
               Mirth
               ,
               my
               Song
               ;
            
             
               ●s
               is
               become
               for
               me
               indeed
            
             
               A
               Saviour
               most
               strong
               .
            
             
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 118.28
                 .
              
               Thou
               art
               my
               God
               ,
               I
               will
               confess
               ,
            
             
               And
               render
               Thanks
               to
               Thee
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               art
               my
               God
               ,
               and
               I
               will
               praise
            
             
               Thy
               Mercy
               towards
               Me.
               
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 118.29
                 .
              
               O
               give
               ye
               Thanks
               unto
               the
               Lord
               !
            
             
               For
               gracious
               is
               He
               ,
            
             
               Because
               his
               Mercy
               doth
               endure
            
             
               For
               ever
               towards
               Me.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             XXXII
             .
             Another
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 26.6
                 .
              
               TO
               render
               Thanks
               unto
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               How
               great
               a
               cause
               have
               I
               !
            
             
               My
               Voice
               ,
               my
               Prayer
               ,
               and
               my
               Complaint
               ,
            
             
               That
               heard
               so
               willingly
               ?
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 59.17
                 .
              
               Thou
               art
               my
               Strength
               ,
               thou
               hast
               me
               stay'd
               ,
            
             
               O
               Lord
               ,
               I
               sing
               to
               Thee
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               art
               my
               Fort
               ,
               my
               Fence
               and
               Aid
               ,
            
             
               And
               Loving
               God
               to
               Me.
               
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 73.25
                 .
              
               What
               thing
               is
               there
               that
               I
               can
               wish
               ,
            
             
               But
               Thee
               in
               Heav'n
               above
               ?
            
             
               And
               in
               the
               Earth
               there
               is
               nothing
            
             
               Like
               Thee
               that
               I
               can
               love
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 36.9
                 .
              
               For
               why
               ?
               the
               Well
               of
               Life
               so
               pure
            
             
               Doth
               ever
               flow
               from
               Thee
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               thy
               Light
               we
               are
               full
               sure
            
             
               The
               lasting
               Light
               to
               see
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               3.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 27.15
                 .
              
               My
               heart
               would
               faint
               ,
               but
               that
               in
               me
            
             
               This
               Hope
               is
               fixed
               fast
               ;
            
             
               The
               Lord
               God's
               good
               Grace
               shall
               I
               see
               ,
            
             
               In
               Life
               that
               ay
               shall
               last
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 48.13
                 .
              
               For
               this
               God
               is
               our
               God
               ,
               our
               God
               ,
            
             
               For
               evermore
               is
               He
               ;
            
             
               This
               God
               of
               ours
               even
               unto
               Death
               ,
            
             
               Our
               faithful
               Guide
               will
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 17.17
                 .
              
               When
               I
               awake
               ,
               I
               shall
               behold
            
             
               In
               Righteousness
               thy
               Face
               ;
            
             
               And
               I
               shall
               be
               most
               like
               to
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               Even
               filled
               with
               thy
               Grace
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 16.11
                 .
              
               Full
               Joys
               are
               in
               thy
               Presence
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               (
               A
               sweet
               and
               precious
               Store
               )
            
             
               My
               God
               ,
               at
               thy
               Right
               Hand
               there
               are
            
             
               Pleasures
               for
               evermore
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 103.21
                 .
              
               Ye
               Angels
               which
               are
               great
               in
               Power
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               Ye
               and
               bless
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Which
               to
               obey
               and
               do
               his
               Will
            
             
               Immediately
               accord
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   PSAL.
                
                 103.22
                 .
              
               Ye
               all
               his
               Works
               in
               every
               place
               ,
            
             
               Praise
               ye
               his
               Holy
               Name
               ;
            
             
               My
               Heart
               ,
               my
               Mind
               ,
               and
               all
               my
               Soul
               ,
            
             
               For
               ever
               praise
               the
               same
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             XXXIII
             .
             A
             Song
             of
             Praise
             Collected
             from
             the
             Doxologies
             in
             the
             Revelation
             of
             St.
             John.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   Rev.
                
                 1.5
                 .
              
               TO
               Him
               that
               lov'd
               us
               from
               Himself
               ,
            
             
               And
               dy'd
               to
               do
               us
               good
               ;
            
             
               And
               wash'd
               us
               from
               our
               scarlet
               sins
               ,
            
             
               In
               his
               own
               purest
               Blood.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   Rev.
                
                 1.6
                 .
              
               And
               made
               us
               Kings
               and
               Priests
               to
               God
               ,
            
             
               His
               Father
               infinite
               ;
            
             
               To
               him
               Eternal
               Glory
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               Everlasting
               Might
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   Rev.
                
                 5.12
                 .
              
               The
               Lamb
               is
               worthy
               that
               was
               slain
               ,
            
             
               To
               have
               all
               Power
               and
               VVealth
               ;
            
             
               All
               Honour
               ,
               Glory
               ,
               VVisdom
               ,
               Strength
               ,
            
             
               Thanks
               for
               his
               saving
               Health
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Rev.
                
                 5.13
                 .
              
               Thanks
               ,
               Honour
               ,
               Glory
               ,
               Power
               to
               Him
            
             
               That
               on
               the
               Throne
               doth
               sit
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               the
               Lamb
               for
               ever
               ,
               and
            
             
               For
               ever
               ,
               so
               be
               it
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   Rev.
                
                 7.9
                 .
              
               Thousands
               of
               thousands
               of
               the
               Saints
            
             
               VVhich
               stand
               before
               their
               King
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               shining
               Robes
               ,
               and
               spreading
               Palms
            
             
               Loud
               Hallelujahs
               sing
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Rev.
                
                 7.10
                 .
              
               Ascribe
               salvation
               to
               our
               God
            
             
               VVho
               sits
               upon
               the
               Throne
               ,
            
          
        
      
       
         
           
             
               
               
               
                 
                 
                   Thy
                   Beams
                   will
                   make
                   our
                   Faces
                   shine
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   Thee
                   we
                   will
                   rejoyce
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Love
                   is
                   more
                   to
                   us
                   than
                   VVine
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   the
                   Uprights
                   Choice
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Ye
                   Daughters
                   of
                   Jerusalem
                   ,
                
                 
                   Tho'
                   I
                   am
                   Black
                   ,
                   yet
                   Fair
                   ;
                
                 
                   Like
                   Kedars
                   Tents
                   ,
                   like
                   Ornaments
                
                 
                   Which
                   Solomons
                   Bed
                   doth
                   wear
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   Look
                   not
                   with
                   a
                   disdainful
                   Eye
                
                 
                   Upon
                   my
                   Sun-burnt
                   Face
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Mothers
                   Children
                   rag'd
                   at
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   wrought
                   me
                   much
                   disgrace
                   ;
                
                 
                   Such
                   was
                   their
                   Envy
                   ,
                   such
                   their
                   Grudge
                   ,
                
                 
                   Their
                   Vines
                   must
                   be
                   inspected
                   .
                
                 
                   Whilst
                   at
                   their
                   Vines
                   I
                   was
                   their
                   Drudge
                   ,
                
                 
                   Mine
                   own
                   were
                   quite
                   neglected
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   But
                   ,
                   O
                   Thou
                   whom
                   my
                   Soul
                   doth
                   Love
                   !
                
                 
                   Tell
                   me
                   now
                   from
                   thy
                   Breast
                   ,
                
                 
                   Where
                   feeds
                   the
                   Flock
                   ?
                   where
                   doth
                   it
                   move
                   ?
                
                 
                   Where
                   is
                   its
                   Noon-Tyde
                   Rest
                   ?
                
                 
                   Why
                   should
                   I
                   stray
                   ,
                   and
                   lose
                   my
                   way
                   ,
                
                 
                   Till
                   I
                   at
                   last
                   do
                   Fall
                
                 
                   Among
                   thy
                   Fellows
                   Flocks
                   ,
                   as
                   they
                
                 
                   Themselves
                   do
                   proudly
                   call
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Fairest
                   Fair
                   !
                   then
                   go
                   and
                   Trace
                
                 
                   The
                   Footsteps
                   of
                   my
                   Sheep
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   feed
                   my
                   Kids
                   beside
                   the
                   Place
                
                 
                   Where
                   my
                   good
                   Shepherds
                   keep
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   ,
                   I
                   have
                   compared
                   Thee
                
                 
                   To
                   those
                   Egyptian
                   Mares
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   in
                   King
                   Pharaohs
                   Chariots
                   flee
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   Fairest
                   of
                   all
                   Fairs
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Cheeks
                   are
                   comely
                   to
                   behold
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   Rows
                   of
                   Jewels
                   deck
                   ;
                
                 
                   Large
                   Chains
                   of
                   pure
                   and
                   shining
                   Gold
                   ,
                
                 
                   Adorn
                   thy
                   Royal
                   Neck
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   and
                   my
                   Father
                   ,
                   we
                   will
                   make
                
                 
                   Borders
                   of
                   Gold
                   for
                   Thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   With
                   Silver
                   Studs
                   for
                   thy
                   dear
                   sake
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   thou
                   may
                   '
                   st
                   Richer
                   be
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   King
                   doth
                   at
                   his
                   Table
                   sit
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   I
                   that
                   love
                   Him
                   well
                
                 
                   Do
                   pour
                   my
                   Spikenard
                   on
                   his
                   Feet
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   gives
                   a
                   Fragrant
                   smell
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   VVelbeloved
                   is
                   to
                   Me
                
                 
                   A
                   Pomander
                   of
                   Myrrh
                   ;
                
                 
                   Betwixt
                   my
                   Breast
                   all
                   Night
                   shall
                   He
                
                 
                   Be
                   Lodg'd
                   and
                   never
                   stir
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   VVelbeloved
                   is
                   to
                   Me
                
                 
                   Like
                   Aromatick
                   VVines
                   ;
                
                 
                   Like
                   Clusters
                   of
                   the
                   
                     Camphire
                     Tree
                  
                
                 
                   Among
                   
                     Engeddi
                     Vines
                  
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   Lo
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   fair
                   my
                   only
                   Love
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   ,
                   lo
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   Fair
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   my
                   Dove
                   ,
                
                 
                   Doves
                   Eyes
                   in
                   thee
                   appear
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   Nay
                   ,
                   my
                   Beloved
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   Fair
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Fairness
                   is
                   from
                   Thee
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   thou
                   art
                   sweet
                   beyond
                   compare
                   .
                
                 
                   VVhat
                   a
                   green
                   Bed
                   have
                   we
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   17.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   Beams
                   are
                   Cedars
                   where
                   we
                   dwell
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   strong
                   they
                   will
                   not
                   stir
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Rafters
                   send
                   a
                   pleasant
                   smell
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   they
                   are
                   made
                   of
                   Fir.
                   
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               I.
               
            
             
               
                 1.
                 
              
               
                 Now
                 will
                 I
                 sing
                 of
                 Christ
                 the
                 King
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 of
                 his
                 Church
                 the
                 Queen
                 ;
              
               
                 The
                 Song
                 of
                 Songs
                 to
                 them
                 belongs
                 ,
              
               
                 Where
                 their
                 pure
                 Flames
                 are
                 seen
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 [
                 Dialogue
                 .
                 ]
                 The
                 Church
                 to
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   LET
                   my
                   dear
                   Saviours
                   Love
                   appear
                
                 
                   By
                   some
                   assuring
                   sign
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thou
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                   my
                   sainting
                   Soul
                   dost
                   chear
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   thou
                   say'st
                   ,
                   I
                   am
                   thine
                   :
                
                 
                   Let
                   others
                   on
                   their
                   Danties
                   feed
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   drink
                   the
                   richest
                   VVine
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Feast
                   do●●
                   all
                   their
                   Feasts
                   exceed
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   thou
                   say'st
                   ,
                   I
                   am
                   thine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Word
                   which
                   sounds
                   thy
                   mighty
                   Fame
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   how
                   good
                   thou
                   hast
                   been
                   ,
                
                 
                   Doth
                   so
                   revive
                   ,
                   that
                   for
                   the
                   same
                
                 
                   Souls
                   love
                   Thee
                   ,
                   tho'
                   unseen
                   ;
                
                 
                   Souls
                   of
                   an
                   Heav'nly
                   make
                   and
                   frame
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Joyful
                   Heirs
                   of
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   Do
                   taste
                   such
                   Sweetness
                   in
                   thy
                   Name
                   ,
                
                 
                   They
                   long
                   to
                   see
                   thy
                   Face
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Fain
                   would
                   I
                   ,
                   but
                   I
                   cannot
                   move
                   ,
                
                 
                   Sin
                   hath
                   Enfeebled
                   me
                   ;
                
                 
                   O
                   draw
                   me
                   with
                   the
                   Cords
                   of
                   Love
                   !
                
                 
                   I
                   will
                   run
                   after
                   Thee
                   :
                
                 
                   Thou
                   hear'st
                   ,
                   thou
                   draw'st
                   ,
                   I
                   come
                   ,
                   I
                   come
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Love
                   (
                   my
                   God
                   )
                   is
                   sweet
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Presence-Chamber
                   is
                   the
                   Room
                
                 
                   Where
                   Souls
                   and
                   Joys
                   do
                   meet
                   .
                
                 
                   Our
                   Earthly
                   Pleasures
                   we
                   forget
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   think
                   upon
                   thy
                   Love
                   ;
                
                 
                   All
                   upright
                   Souls
                   their
                   Minds
                   do
                   set
                
                 
                   On
                   Thee
                   ,
                   my
                   Lord
                   ,
                   above
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Tho'
                   I
                   to
                   Strangers
                   black
                   do
                   seem
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   under
                   Foot
                   am
                   trod
                   ,
                
                 
                   Yet
                   am
                   I
                   Fair
                   in
                   Heav'ns
                   esteem
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   the
                   House
                   of
                   God.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   do
                   not
                   scorn
                   my
                   outward
                   state
                   !
                
                 
                   Ye
                   know
                   not
                   what
                   's
                   within
                   ;
                
                 
                   Whom
                   God
                   doth
                   love
                   ,
                   how
                   dare
                   ye
                   hate
                   ?
                
                 
                   My
                   Saviour
                   hides
                   my
                   Sin
                   ;
                
                 
                   Profest
                   Church-Members
                   should
                   have
                   brought
                
                 
                   Some
                   Comfort
                   to
                   my
                   Mind
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   But
                   did
                   they
                   Treat
                   me
                   as
                   they
                   ought
                   ,
                
                 
                   Alas
                   !
                   they
                   prov'd
                   unkind
                   ;
                
                 
                   Their
                   Anger
                   did
                   my
                   words
                   controul
                   ,
                
                 
                   They
                   Bow'd
                   me
                   to
                   their
                   Will
                   :
                
                 
                   And
                   so
                   my
                   own
                   immortal
                   Soul
                
                 
                   Declin'd
                   and
                   Fared
                   ill
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Pitty
                   my
                   tempted
                   state
                   ;
                   O
                   Lord
                   !
                
                 
                   Whom
                   still
                   I
                   do
                   adore
                   ;
                
                 
                   O
                   bring
                   me
                   home
                   by
                   thy
                   good
                   Word
                   !
                
                 
                   My
                   Lapsed
                   Soul
                   Restore
                   ;
                
                 
                   Since
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                   thy
                   Mercies
                   still
                   abides
                   ,
                
                 
                   Shall
                   I
                   be
                   lost
                   among
                
                 
                   False
                   Flocks
                   ,
                   false
                   Doctrines
                   ,
                   and
                   false
                   Guides
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   do
                   thine
                   Honour
                   wrong
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   ,
                   to
                   Me
                   the
                   World
                   is
                   dross
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   thou
                   a
                   Pearl
                   of
                   Price
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   art
                   thou
                   Stray'd
                   and
                   as
                   a
                   Loss
                   ?
                
                 
                   Attend
                   to
                   my
                   Advice
                   :
                
                 
                   Look
                   back
                   upon
                   my
                   Church
                   of
                   old
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   mark
                   which
                   way
                   they
                   went
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   let
                   thy
                   Childrens
                   Eyes
                   behold
                
                 
                   The
                   Pastors
                   I
                   have
                   sent
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   As
                   Pharaohs
                   Horses
                   (
                   Egypts
                   Pride
                   )
                
                 
                   Is
                   deem'd
                   the
                   Choicest
                   Breed
                   ;
                
                 
                   So
                   thou
                   my
                   Church
                   ,
                   my
                   Fairest
                   Bride
                   ,
                
                 
                   All
                   Fair
                   Ones
                   doth
                   exceed
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   Mans
                   Eyes
                   the
                   outward
                   state
                   behold
                   ,
                
                 
                   Mine
                   Eyes
                   are
                   on
                   thy
                   Heart
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   Whilst
                   other'S
                   shine
                   with
                   Pearl
                   and
                   Gold
                   ,
                
                 
                   Through
                   Grace
                   thou
                   lovely
                   art
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Soul
                   that
                   loves
                   thee
                   is
                   so
                   glad
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Stock
                   of
                   Grace
                   to
                   see
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   and
                   my
                   Father
                   ,
                   we
                   will
                   add
                
                 
                   A
                   new
                   supply
                   to
                   Thee
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   King
                   doth
                   Sit
                   in
                   Heav'n
                   above
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhere
                   Angels
                   do
                   attend
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   from
                   below
                   ,
                   my
                   Faith
                   and
                   Love
                
                 
                   Shall
                   to
                   my
                   King
                   ascend
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Faith
                   ascends
                   unto
                   my
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   brings
                   him
                   down
                   to
                   Me
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   a
                   Bosom
                   doth
                   afford
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhere
                   he
                   shall
                   lodged
                   be
                   :
                
                 
                   O
                   the
                   sweet
                   time
                   ,
                   as
                   if
                   I
                   was
                
                 
                   Reigning
                   in
                   Heav'n
                   above
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhence
                   once
                   my
                   Soul
                   doth
                   Christ
                   embrace
                
                 
                   in
                   Arms
                   of
                   Faith
                   and
                   Love
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   It
                   is
                   so
                   sweet
                   ,
                   when
                   we
                   do
                   meet
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Joys
                   in
                   Christ
                   exceed
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   sweetest
                   Smells
                   ,
                   and
                   Tasts
                   ,
                   and
                   Sighs
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   can
                   our
                   Senses
                   feed
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Church
                   ,
                   I
                   do
                   admire
                
                 
                   The
                   Beauties
                   of
                   thy
                   Mind
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   Meek
                   ,
                   so
                   Harmless
                   ,
                   so
                   Entire
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   Faithful
                   and
                   so
                   Kind
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   the
                   Sun
                   ,
                
                 
                   By
                   whose
                   bright
                   Beams
                   I
                   shine
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   then
                   my
                   Glory
                   first
                   begun
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   thou
                   becamest
                   mine
                   :
                
                 
                   Since
                   thou
                   art
                   mine
                   ,
                   and
                   I
                   am
                   thine
                   ,
                
                 
                   A
                   Num'rous
                   Race
                   do
                   flow
                
                 
                   In
                   every
                   place
                   ,
                   which
                   to
                   thy
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   Their
                   Birth
                   and
                   Being
                   owe.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   17.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   dear
                   Assemblies
                   of
                   thy
                   Saints
                   ,
                
                 
                   Where
                   thou
                   my
                   Lord
                   dost
                   dwell
                   ,
                
                 
                   Are
                   sweet
                   and
                   pure
                   ,
                   and
                   shall
                   endure
                
                 
                   Against
                   the
                   Gates
                   of
                   Hell.
                   
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               II.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   
                     Am
                     the
                     Rose
                     of
                  
                   Sharon-Field
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   the
                   Lilly
                   White
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Lilly
                   ,
                   which
                   the
                   Valleys
                   yield
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   both
                   sweet
                   and
                   bright
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   What
                   are
                   Thorns
                   in
                   th'
                   Account
                   of
                   Men
                   ,
                
                 
                   Vnto
                   the
                   Lilly
                   bright
                   ?
                
                 
                   What
                   are
                   the
                   Fairest
                   Daughters
                   ,
                   when
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   appears
                   in
                   sight
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   What
                   are
                   the
                   common
                   Trees
                   o'
                   th'
                   Wood
                
                 
                   Unto
                   the
                   Apple
                   Tree
                   ?
                
                 
                   What
                   is
                   the
                   Rich
                   and
                   Noblest
                   Blood
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   lovely
                   Lord
                   ,
                   to
                   Thee
                   ?
                
                 
                 
                   I
                   sate
                   Rejoycing
                   in
                   Times
                   past
                
                 
                   Under
                   his
                   cooling
                   Shade
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   Fruit
                   was
                   sweet
                   unto
                   my
                   Tast
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   what
                   a
                   Feast
                   I
                   made
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Unto
                   his
                   Cellars
                   stor'd
                   with
                   Wines
                   ,
                
                 
                   He
                   caus'd
                   Me
                   to
                   remove
                   ,
                
                 
                   Over
                   my
                   Head
                   abroad
                   he
                   spread
                
                 
                   The
                   Banner
                   of
                   his
                   Love.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Give
                   Flagons
                   for
                   a
                   Cordial
                   ,
                
                 
                   Bring
                   Apples
                   Me
                   to
                   chear
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   I
                   am
                   sick
                   ,
                   I
                   faint
                   ,
                   I
                   fall
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   languish
                   for
                   my
                   Dear
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Left
                   Hand
                   underneath
                   my
                   Head
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   my
                   Support
                   is
                   plac'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   Right
                   Hand
                   over
                   me
                   is
                   spread
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   thus
                   I
                   am
                   Embrac'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Salems
                   Daughters
                   ,
                   you
                   I
                   charge
                   ,
                
                 
                   Both
                   by
                   the
                   Roe
                   and
                   Hind
                   ;
                
                 
                   Ye
                   do
                   not
                   move
                   nor
                   stir
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   Until
                   it
                   be
                   his
                   mind
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Welbeloved's
                   Voice
                   of
                   Joy
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Heart
                   with
                   Comfort
                   fills
                   ;
                
                 
                   He
                   comes
                   Leaping
                   on
                   Mountains
                   high
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Skipping
                   on
                   the
                   Hills
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Welbeloved
                   comes
                   in
                   hast
                   ,
                
                 
                   Like
                   a
                   swift
                   footed
                   Roe
                   ;
                
                 
                   Nay
                   ,
                   my
                   Beloved
                   flies
                   so
                   fast
                   ,
                
                 
                   Young
                   Hart
                   did
                   never
                   so
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   Behind
                   our
                   Wall
                   ,
                   lo
                   !
                   he
                   doth
                   stand
                   ,
                
                 
                   He
                   's
                   at
                   our
                   Windows
                   seen
                   ;
                
                 
                   He
                   shews
                   himself
                   so
                   near
                   at
                   Hand
                   ,
                
                 
                   There
                   's
                   but
                   a
                   Grate
                   between
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   gladly
                   heard
                   his
                   gracious
                   Tone
                   ,
                
                 
                   Who
                   thus
                   to
                   me
                   did
                   say
                   ,
                
                 
                   Rise
                   up
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   my
                   Fairest
                   One
                   ,
                
                 
                   Make
                   haste
                   and
                   come
                   away
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   Season
                   of
                   the
                   Year
                   invites
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Winters
                   gone
                   and
                   past
                   ;
                
                 
                   Behold
                   a
                   Spring
                   of
                   new
                   Delights
                   !
                
                 
                   No
                   Rain
                   ,
                   nor
                   stormy
                   Blast
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   Flowers
                   upon
                   the
                   Earth
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Birds
                   begin
                   to
                   sing
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   People
                   of
                   our
                   Land
                   do
                   hear
                
                 
                   The
                   Turtles
                   murmuring
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   Green
                   Figs
                   upon
                   their
                   Trees
                   are
                   grown
                   ,
                
                 
                   Young
                   Grapes
                   their
                   Smells
                   display
                   ;
                
                 
                   Rise
                   up
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   my
                   Fairest
                   One
                   ,
                
                 
                   Make
                   haste
                   and
                   come
                   away
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   my
                   Fair
                   Dove
                   ,
                   whose
                   Fairness
                   dwells
                
                 
                   In
                   dark
                   Obscurity
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   cloven
                   Rocks
                   ,
                   and
                   secret
                   Cells
                   ,
                
                 
                   Come
                   ,
                   shew
                   thy self
                   to
                   me
                   :
                
                 
                   O
                   let
                   thy
                   Face
                   to
                   me
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   〈◊〉
                   thy
                   Voice
                   answer
                   mine
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Voice
                   is
                   Musick
                   in
                   mine
                   Ear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Countenance
                   doth
                   shine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   Catch
                   us
                   the
                   Foxes
                   in
                   a
                   Toyl
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   little
                   Foxes
                   catch
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   they
                   our
                   Fruitful
                   Vines
                   do
                   spoil
                   ,
                
                 
                   Their
                   tender
                   Grapes
                   they
                   snatch
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Welbeloved
                   ,
                   he
                   is
                   mine
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   I
                   am
                   his
                   indeed
                   ;
                
                 
                   In
                   Pastures
                   ,
                   which
                   with
                   Lillies
                   shine
                   ,
                
                 
                   He
                   makes
                   his
                   Flock
                   to
                   feed
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   17.
                   
                
                 
                   Till
                   the
                   day
                   break
                   ,
                   and
                   shades
                   depart
                   ,
                
                 
                   Beloved
                   ,
                   hast
                   to
                   me
                   ;
                
                 
                   Even
                   as
                   the
                   Roe
                   and
                   tender
                   Hart
                
                 
                   On
                   
                   Bether-Mountains
                   flee
                   .
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               II.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   SVch
                   is
                   the
                   Power
                   of
                   my
                   sweet
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   it
                   sweetneth
                   ;
                
                 
                   It
                   sweetens
                   Earth
                   and
                   Heav'n
                   above
                   ,
                
                 
                   It
                   sweetens
                   Life
                   and
                   Death
                   :
                
                 
                   Such
                   is
                   the
                   Beauty
                   of
                   my
                   Face
                   ,
                
                 
                   'T
                   is
                   with
                   such
                   Glories
                   crown'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   
                   Solomon's
                   Glory
                   must
                   give
                   place
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   what
                   shines
                   me
                   around
                   ;
                
                 
                   As
                   Lillies
                   in
                   the
                   Valleys-grow
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   I
                   the
                   Valleys
                   own
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   Humble
                   are
                   my
                   Heav'n
                   below
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Lowly
                   are
                   my
                   Throne
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   No
                   comely
                   Persons
                   can
                   I
                   see
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   whom
                   my
                   Grace
                   adorns
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   a
                   Lilly
                   is
                   to
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   all
                   the
                   Rest
                   are
                   Thorns
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   None
                   but
                   a
                   Jesus
                   ,
                   none
                   but
                   He
                   !
                
                 
                   He
                   is
                   the
                   Chiefest
                   Good
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Jesus
                   is
                   an
                   Apple-Tree
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   others
                   Barren
                   Wood
                   :
                
                 
                   He
                   is
                   a
                   Shadow
                   from
                   the
                   Heat
                
                 
                   Of
                   Conscience
                   ,
                   Wrath
                   and
                   Hell
                   ;
                
                 
                   He
                   is
                   true
                   Manna
                   ,
                   Heav'nly
                   Meat
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   feeds
                   his
                   Israel
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   Shadow
                   of
                   his
                   Sacraments
                
                 
                   Hath
                   been
                   exceeding
                   good
                   ;
                
                 
                   Under
                   that
                   Shade
                   a
                   Feast
                   I
                   made
                
                 
                   Upon
                   his
                   Flesh
                   and
                   Blood.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Christ
                   is
                   like
                   a
                   Cellar
                   Stor'd
                
                 
                   With
                   sweet
                   and
                   precious
                   Wine
                   ;
                
                 
                   What
                   Sweetness
                   found
                   I
                   in
                   my
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   he
                   said
                   ,
                   I
                   am
                   thine
                   !
                
                 
                   As
                   Souldiers
                   to
                   their
                   Colours
                   stand
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   after
                   them
                   do
                   move
                   ;
                
                 
                   So
                   doth
                   my
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   command
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   draw
                   me
                   by
                   his
                   Love.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Nothing
                   but
                   Glory
                   can
                   suffice
                
                 
                   The
                   Appetite
                   of
                   Grace
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   long
                   for
                   Christ
                   with
                   Restless
                   Eyes
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   languish
                   for
                   his
                   Face
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   O
                   take
                   me
                   up
                   ,
                   or
                   let
                   me
                   Sup
                
                 
                   On
                   Promises
                   Divine
                   ;
                
                 
                   Those
                   Apples
                   from
                   the
                   Tree
                   of
                   Life
                   ,
                
                 
                   Those
                   Flagons
                   full
                   of
                   Wine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   How
                   am
                   I
                   Born
                   ,
                   whilst
                   sick
                   of
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   those
                   blest
                   Hands
                   of
                   his
                   ?
                
                 
                   His
                   Left
                   my
                   Souls
                   Support
                   doth
                   prove
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   Right
                   my
                   Comfort
                   is
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   And
                   whilst
                   his
                   Love
                   doth
                   me
                   enflame
                   ,
                
                 
                   Hear
                   what
                   a
                   Charge
                   I
                   give
                   ,
                
                 
                   All
                   ye
                   that
                   own
                   his
                   Sacred
                   Name
                   ,
                
                 
                   Do
                   not
                   his
                   Spirit
                   grieve
                   :
                
                 
                   He
                   is
                   all
                   Love
                   ,
                   he
                   is
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   do
                   not
                   him
                   abuse
                   !
                
                 
                   Do
                   not
                   again
                   put
                   him
                   to
                   pain
                   ,
                
                 
                   Dear
                   Christians
                   ,
                   turn
                   not
                   Jews
                   :
                
                 
                   Lord
                   ,
                   leave
                   us
                   not
                   ;
                   yet
                   if
                   thou
                   wilt
                   ,
                
                 
                   With
                   Tears
                   we
                   'll
                   own
                   thy
                   Right
                   ;
                
                 
                   But
                   a
                   Departure
                   forc'd
                   by
                   Guilt
                   ,
                
                 
                   Makes
                   a
                   Tempestuous
                   Night
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Saviours
                   Voice
                   I
                   hear
                   ,
                
                 
                   He
                   comes
                   on
                   my
                   account
                   ;
                
                 
                   Nothing
                   can
                   stop
                   his
                   full
                   Career
                   ,
                
                 
                   No
                   ,
                   not
                   Corruptions
                   Mount.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   makes
                   hast
                   from
                   Heav'n
                   to
                   Earth
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   he
                   himself
                   presents
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   Men
                   of
                   a
                   polluted
                   Birth
                   ,
                
                 
                   By
                   Word
                   and
                   Sacraments
                   :
                
                 
                   Tho'
                   ,
                   like
                   a
                   Wall
                   ,
                   our
                   frail
                   Estate
                
                 
                   Prevents
                   a
                   perfect
                   Sight
                   ,
                
                 
                 
                   Yet
                   thro'
                   his
                   Ordinances
                   Grate
                   ,
                
                 
                   Dart
                   in
                   some
                   Beams
                   of
                   Light.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   to
                   me
                   did
                   thus
                   begin
                   ,
                
                 
                   Arise
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   and
                   flee
                
                 
                   From
                   World
                   ,
                   Flesh
                   ,
                   Satan
                   ,
                   Self
                   and
                   Sin
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   come
                   away
                   to
                   me
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   Time
                   was
                   when
                   thou
                   wast
                   cold
                   and
                   dead
                   ,
                
                 
                   An
                   Heir
                   of
                   Wrath
                   thou
                   wast
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Vengeance-Storms
                   hung
                   o're
                   thy
                   Head
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   those
                   sad
                   Days
                   are
                   past
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   Flowers
                   of
                   Grace
                   begin
                   to
                   spring
                
                 
                   In
                   Thee
                   so
                   hopefully
                   ;
                
                 
                   That
                   all
                   the
                   Heav'nly
                   Quire
                   doth
                   sing
                
                 
                   
                     Glory
                     to
                     God
                     on
                     High.
                  
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   my
                   tender
                   Plant
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Dews
                   have
                   nourish'd
                   Thee
                   ;
                
                 
                   Now
                   thou
                   art
                   〈◊〉
                   mine
                   ,
                   now
                   thou
                   must
                   grant
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Fruit
                   ,
                   thy Self
                   to
                   Me.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   heartless
                   Dove
                   ,
                   why
                   dost
                   thou
                   faint
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   hide
                   thy self
                   from
                   me
                   ?
                
                 
                   Thou
                   know'st
                   not
                   how
                   I
                   love
                   a
                   Saint
                   ,
                
                 
                   How
                   welcome
                   thou
                   should'st
                   be
                   :
                
                 
                   Come
                   ,
                   come
                   ,
                   before
                   thy
                   Lord
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Person
                   joys
                   my
                   Sight
                   ;
                
                 
                   Let
                   me
                   thy
                   Prayers
                   and
                   Praises
                   hear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Voice
                   is
                   my
                   Delight
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   Ye
                   Men
                   of
                   God
                   ,
                   whose
                   Charge
                   it
                   is
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   God's
                   Courts
                   to
                   attend
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   Restrain
                   those
                   Enemies
                   of
                   his
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   do
                   his
                   Church
                   offend
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   Mine
                   through
                   my
                   Faith
                   is
                   my
                   dear
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   through
                   his
                   Love
                   am
                   I
                   ;
                
                 
                   He
                   feeds
                   his
                   People
                   with
                   his
                   Word
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   tasts
                   most
                   pleasantly
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   17.
                   
                
                 
                   He
                   feeds
                   them
                   with
                   his
                   Word
                   of
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   Till
                   Glories
                   Day
                   appears
                   ;
                
                 
                   Which
                   all
                   the
                   Shades
                   away
                   shall
                   chase
                   ,
                
                 
                   Of
                   Sins
                   ,
                   and
                   Griefs
                   ,
                   and
                   Fears
                   :
                
                 
                   Come
                   Love
                   ,
                   come
                   Lord
                   ,
                   come
                   that
                   long
                   day
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   earnest
                   Expectation
                   ;
                
                 
                   Shovel
                   these
                   Days
                   out
                   of
                   the
                   way
                   ,
                
                 
                   These
                   Hills
                   of
                   Separation
                   .
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               III.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   HIM
                   whom
                   my
                   Soul
                   doth
                   love
                   ,
                   I
                   sought
                
                 
                   By
                   Night
                   upon
                   my
                   Bed
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   sought
                   him
                   ,
                   but
                   I
                   found
                   him
                   not
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Souls
                   Delight
                   was
                   fled
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   And
                   slug
                   I
                   here
                   ?
                   I
                   'll
                   now
                   arise
                
                 
                   And
                   go
                   about
                   the
                   Town
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   'll
                   search
                   the
                   Streets
                   and
                   broader
                   ways
                   ,
                
                 
                   Until
                   I
                   find
                   my
                   own
                   :
                
                 
                   Up
                   did
                   I
                   get
                   ,
                   and
                   out
                   I
                   went
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Dearest
                   to
                   regain
                   ;
                
                 
                   But
                   when
                   I
                   had
                   my
                   Labour
                   spent
                   ,
                
                 
                   Alas
                   !
                   it
                   was
                   in
                   vain
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   City-watch
                   did
                   light
                   on
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   Of
                   whom
                   I
                   did
                   enquire
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   any
                   Street
                   ,
                   pray
                   ,
                   Did
                   ye
                   see
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Man
                   ,
                   whom
                   I
                   admire
                   ?
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   'T
                   was
                   but
                   a
                   little
                   while
                   that
                   I
                
                 
                   Had
                   from
                   the
                   Watch-men
                   pass'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   I
                   did
                   find
                   my
                   only
                   Joy
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   then
                   I
                   held
                   him
                   fast
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   held
                   ,
                   and
                   would
                   not
                   let
                   him
                   go
                   ,
                
                 
                   Till
                   I
                   had
                   brought
                   him
                   home
                   ,
                
                 
                   Into
                   my
                   Mothers
                   House
                   ,
                   and
                   so
                
                 
                   Into
                   my
                   Native
                   Room
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Salems
                   Daughters
                   ,
                   you
                   I
                   charge
                
                 
                   Both
                   by
                   the
                   Roe
                   and
                   Hind
                   ;
                
                 
                   Ye
                   do
                   not
                   move
                   ,
                   nor
                   '
                   wake
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   Until
                   it
                   be
                   his
                   Mind
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Daughters
                 of
                 Jerusalem
                 .
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   What
                   smoaky
                   Pillar
                   strait
                   from
                   hence
                
                 
                   Out
                   of
                   that
                   Desart
                   Rises
                   ;
                
                 
                   Perfum'd
                   with
                   Myrrh
                   and
                   Frankincense
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   all
                   the
                   Merchants
                   Spices
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Such
                   Ornaments
                   his
                   Bed
                   do
                   grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   Solomons
                   Bed
                   commend
                   ;
                
                 
                   Where
                   threescore
                   Men
                   of
                   Israels
                   Race
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   valiant
                   Guards
                   attend
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   They
                   all
                   hold
                   Swords
                   couragiously
                   ,
                
                 
                   They
                   all
                   know
                   how
                   to
                   Fight
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   Each
                   hath
                   his
                   Sword
                   upon
                   his
                   Thigh
                   ,
                
                 
                   Because
                   of
                   Fear
                   i'
                   th'
                   Night
                   .
                
                 
                   The
                   Chariot
                   of
                   King
                   Solomon
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   for
                   himself
                   he
                   made
                   ,
                
                 
                   Was
                   of
                   the
                   Wood
                   of
                   Lebanon
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   Silver
                   Pillars
                   had
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   Gold
                   was
                   the
                   bottom
                   ,
                   and
                   above
                
                 
                   Rich
                   Purple
                   cover'd
                   it
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   midst
                   whereof
                   was
                   pav'd
                   with
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   Salems
                   Daughters
                   Fit.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   Look
                   ,
                   Virgins
                   ,
                   on
                   King
                   Solomon
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   Crown
                   so
                   Rich
                   ,
                   so
                   Gay
                   ,
                
                 
                   Wherewith
                   his
                   Mother
                   Crown
                   him
                   on
                
                 
                   His
                   Joyful
                   Marriage-day
                   .
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               III.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   ONce
                   did
                   I
                   seek
                   my
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   with
                   a
                   sleepy
                   Mind
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   presence
                   he
                   did
                   not
                   afford
                   ;
                
                 
                   Slack
                   Seekers
                   cannot
                   find
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Shall
                   I
                   ,
                   said
                   I
                   ;
                   forgoe
                   my
                   Christ
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   so
                   close
                   up
                   mine
                   Eyes
                   ?
                
                 
                   No
                   ,
                   no
                   ,
                   he
                   was
                   so
                   dearly
                   mist
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   could
                   not
                   but
                   arise
                   .
                
                 
                   My
                   Bed
                   was
                   Thorus
                   ,
                   no
                   Bed
                   for
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   Nothing
                   could
                   give
                   me
                   rest
                   ,
                
                 
                   Till
                   I
                   my
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   might
                   see
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   can
                   upon
                   his
                   Breast
                   :
                
                 
                 
                   VVhen
                   private
                   means
                   could
                   not
                   prevail
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   publick
                   Him
                   I
                   sought
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   waited
                   till
                   my
                   Eyes
                   did
                   fail
                   ,
                
                 
                   Alas
                   !
                   I
                   found
                   him
                   not
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   God's
                   holy
                   VVatchmen
                   did
                   Me
                   find
                   ,
                
                 
                   Of
                   whom
                   I
                   did
                   enquire
                   ,
                
                 
                   Pray
                   ,
                   can
                   ye
                   help
                   my
                   troubled
                   Mind
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   doth
                   a
                   Christ
                   desire
                   ?
                
                 
                   O
                   happy
                   Stars
                   ,
                   if
                   ye
                   might
                   be
                
                 
                   My
                   Guides
                   to
                   Jesus
                   now
                   !
                
                 
                   Seers
                   ,
                   did
                   ye
                   my
                   Saviour
                   see
                   ?
                
                 
                   Pray
                   tell
                   me
                   where
                   and
                   how
                   ?
                
                 
                   Means
                   must
                   be
                   us'd
                   ,
                   but
                   cannot
                   heal
                
                 
                   VVithout
                   a
                   Sovereign
                   VVord
                   ;
                
                 
                   Christ
                   only
                   can
                   himself
                   reveal
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   still
                   I
                   lack'd
                   my
                   Lord.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   One
                   dark
                   Hour
                   more
                   I
                   did
                   sustain
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   then
                   the
                   Night
                   was
                   past
                   ;
                
                 
                   Tho'
                   I
                   had
                   sought
                   so
                   long
                   in
                   vain
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   found
                   my
                   Lord
                   at
                   last
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   found
                   my
                   Lord
                   and
                   held
                   him
                   fast
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   would
                   not
                   let
                   him
                   part
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   New-found
                   Jesus
                   I
                   embrac'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Lodg'd
                   Him
                   in
                   my
                   Heart
                   :
                
                 
                   I
                   would
                   not
                   lose
                   my
                   Christ
                   again
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   gain
                   a
                   Second
                   Hell
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Prayers
                   and
                   Tears
                   did
                   him
                   constrain
                
                 
                   VVithin
                   my
                   Soul
                   to
                   dwell
                   .
                
                 
                   As
                   Clouds
                   are
                   pierc'd
                   with
                   powerful
                   light
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   Beams
                   thro'
                   me
                   did
                   shine
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   His
                   dear
                   Assemblies
                   saw
                   this
                   Sight
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   joy'd
                   that
                   Christ
                   was
                   mine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Christ's
                   Love
                   my
                   Heart
                   doth
                   so
                   inflame
                   ,
                
                 
                   This
                   Charge
                   I
                   needs
                   must
                   give
                   ;
                
                 
                   All
                   ye
                   that
                   own
                   his
                   Sacred
                   Name
                   ,
                
                 
                   Do
                   not
                   his
                   Spirit
                   grieve
                   :
                
                 
                   He
                   is
                   all
                   Love
                   ,
                   he
                   is
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   do
                   not
                   him
                   abuse
                   !
                
                 
                   Do
                   not
                   again
                   put
                   him
                   to
                   pain
                   ,
                
                 
                   Dear
                   Christians
                   ,
                   turn
                   not
                   Jews
                   :
                
                 
                   Lord
                   ,
                   leave
                   us
                   not
                   ;
                   yet
                   if
                   thou
                   wilt
                   ,
                
                 
                   With
                   Tears
                   we
                   'll
                   own
                   thy
                   Right
                   ;
                
                 
                   But
                   a
                   Departure
                   forc'd
                   by
                   Guilt
                   ,
                
                 
                   Makes
                   a
                   Tempestuous
                   Night
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 Weak
                 Believers
                 .
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   What
                   Heav'nly
                   Souls
                   from
                   Earth
                   arise
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   do
                   at
                   Heav'n
                   aspire
                   !
                
                 
                   They
                   mount
                   ,
                   they
                   soar
                   ,
                   they
                   fix
                   their
                   Eyes
                
                 
                   On
                   God
                   their
                   chief
                   Desire
                   :
                
                 
                   Earths
                   Wilderness
                   they
                   nobly
                   scorn
                   ,
                
                 
                   Whilst
                   others
                   Rake
                   for
                   it
                   ;
                
                 
                   Heav'ns
                   Graces
                   them
                   do
                   so
                   Adorn
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   they
                   for
                   Heav'n
                   are
                   fit
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Admire
                   not
                   me
                   ,
                   but
                   my
                   dear
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   Whose
                   Bosom
                   gives
                   me
                   rest
                   ;
                
                 
                   Whose
                   Angels
                   watch
                   with
                   one
                   accord
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   none
                   should
                   me
                   molest
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   These
                   Heav'nly
                   Guards
                   are
                   full
                   of
                   might
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   ready
                   do
                   they
                   stand
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   to
                   defend
                   his
                   Churches
                   Right
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   he
                   shall
                   them
                   command
                   :
                
                 
                   When
                   Darkness
                   breeds
                   tormenting
                   Fear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   help
                   comes
                   from
                   on
                   High
                   ;
                
                 
                   A
                   strengthing
                   Angel
                   doth
                   appear
                
                 
                   Amidst
                   that
                   Agony
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   Heav'n
                   is
                   the
                   High
                   and
                   Glorious
                   Throne
                   ,
                
                 
                   Of
                   my
                   most
                   Glorious
                   Lord
                   ;
                
                 
                   Who
                   yet
                   on
                   Earth
                   Rides
                   up
                   and
                   down
                
                 
                   I'
                   th'
                   Chariot
                   of
                   his
                   Word
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Word
                   is
                   rich
                   ,
                   and
                   strong
                   ,
                   and
                   pure
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   all
                   his
                   Saints
                   do
                   prove
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVho
                   of
                   its
                   true
                   Intent
                   are
                   sure
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   find
                   ,
                   it
                   's
                   Heart
                   is
                   Love.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   Go
                   ye
                   that
                   own
                   the
                   Highest
                   Name
                   ,
                
                 
                   Behold
                   a
                   Glorious
                   Shew
                   ;
                
                 
                   How
                   the
                   Almighty
                   spreads
                   his
                   Fame
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   what
                   his
                   VVord
                   can
                   do
                   :
                
                 
                   This
                   mighty
                   King
                   Rides
                   Conquering
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   Word
                   goes
                   forth
                   with
                   Might
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   wooes
                   and
                   wins
                   the
                   Slaves
                   of
                   Sin
                   ,
                
                 
                   Both
                   by
                   its
                   Force
                   and
                   Light
                   :
                
                 
                   Those
                   Slaves
                   their
                   Hellish
                   Lords
                   forsake
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Christ
                   do
                   humbly
                   own
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   as
                   his
                   Spouse
                   ,
                   he
                   them
                   doth
                   take
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   wears
                   them
                   as
                   his
                   Crown
                   :
                
                 
                   Great
                   was
                   their
                   Need
                   ;
                   greater
                   his
                   Love
                
                 
                   Than
                   their
                   Necessity
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   As
                   well
                   they
                   may
                   ,
                   glad
                   do
                   they
                   prove
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   not
                   so
                   glad
                   as
                   He.
                   
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               IV.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   LO
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   Fair
                   ,
                   my
                   only
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   ,
                   lo
                   !
                   thou
                   art
                   Fair
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thine
                   Eyes
                   are
                   like
                   those
                   of
                   the
                   Dove
                   ,
                
                 
                   Within
                   thy
                   Locks
                   of
                   Hair
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Hairy
                   Locks
                   are
                   like
                   Goats
                   Flocks
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   from
                   Mount
                   Gilead
                   look
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   So
                   are
                   thy
                   Teeth
                   like
                   well-shorn
                   Sheep
                   ;
                
                 
                   Come
                   from
                   the
                   Washing
                   Brook
                   ;
                
                 
                   They
                   Pregnant
                   are
                   as
                   well
                   as
                   Fair
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   Fruit
                   as
                   well
                   as
                   View
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   each
                   of
                   them
                   her
                   Twins
                   doth
                   bear
                   ,
                
                 
                   There
                   's
                   ●ot
                   one
                   barren
                   Ewe
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Lips
                   are
                   like
                   a
                   Scarlet-thread
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Speech
                   is
                   sweet
                   and
                   fine
                   ;
                
                 
                   Within
                   thy
                   Locks
                   thy
                   Temples
                   Red
                   ,
                
                 
                   Like
                   broke
                   Pomegranate
                   shine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Neck
                   is
                   like
                   to
                   David's
                   Tower
                   ,
                
                 
                   Strong
                   built
                   ,
                   and
                   raised
                   high
                   ;
                
                 
                   A
                   thousand
                   Shields
                   for
                   Men
                   of
                   Power
                
                 
                   Hang
                   in
                   that
                   Armory
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   two
                   Breasts
                   are
                   like
                   two
                   young
                   Roes
                
                 
                   Well
                   shap'd
                   and
                   well
                   agreed
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   they
                   are
                   loving
                   Twins
                   ,
                   and
                   those
                
                 
                   Among
                   the
                   Lillies
                   feed
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   Vntil
                   the
                   Day
                   have
                   chas'd
                   away
                
                 
                   The
                   Dusky
                   Shades
                   ,
                   I
                   will
                
                 
                   Betake
                   me
                   to
                   the
                   Mount
                   of
                   Myrrh
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   to
                   the
                   Incense-Hill
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   All
                   over
                   fair
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   so
                   thou
                   seem'st
                   to
                   me
                   ;
                
                 
                   There
                   is
                   not
                   one
                   uncomly
                   Part
                   ,
                
                 
                   Not
                   one
                   dark
                   Spot
                   in
                   Thee
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   Come
                   ,
                   Love
                   ,
                   with
                   me
                   from
                   Lebanon
                   ,
                
                 
                   From
                   Lebanon
                   ,
                   with
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   Since
                   Thou
                   and
                   I
                   are
                   joyn'd
                   in
                   One
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Lebanon
                   I
                   'll
                   be
                   :
                
                 
                   From
                   Shenirs
                   
                     Top
                     ,
                     from
                  
                   Hermon
                   book
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   from
                   Amana
                   high
                   ,
                
                 
                   Those
                   
                     Lions
                     Dens
                  
                   must
                   be
                   forsook
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   where
                   the
                   Leoparc's
                   lie
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Spouse
                   ,
                   my
                   Sister
                   ,
                   thou
                   hast
                   Gain'd
                
                 
                   A
                   perfect
                   Victory
                
                 
                   Over
                   my
                   Heart
                   by
                   thy
                   bright
                   chain
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   by
                   thy
                   Brighter
                   Eye
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   How
                   fair
                   and
                   pleasant
                   is
                   thy
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   spause
                   to
                   Me
                   !
                
                 
                   O
                   how
                   I
                   prize
                   it
                   far
                   above
                
                 
                   The
                   Richest
                   wines
                   that
                   be
                   !
                
                 
                   O
                   how
                   my
                   Sisters
                   Ointments
                   smell
                   ,
                
                 
                   What
                   sweetness
                   do
                   they
                   yield
                   !
                
                 
                   This
                   pleasant
                   scent
                   doth
                   far
                   Excel
                
                 
                   The
                   sweet
                   Arabian
                   Field
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Lips
                   drop
                   like
                   the
                   Honey
                   comb
                   ,
                
                 
                   There
                   Milk
                   with
                   Honey
                   Flows
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   I
                   smell
                   the
                   smel●s
                   of
                   Lebanon
                   ,
                   from
                
                 
                   The
                   Garments
                   of
                   my
                   Spouse
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Sister
                   and
                   my
                   Spouse
                   is
                   Veil'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   she
                   may
                   be
                   suppos'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   A
                   Spring
                   shut
                   up
                   ,
                   a
                   Fountain
                   seal'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   A
                   Garden
                   well
                   enclos'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   Thou
                   hast
                   a
                   pleasant
                   Nursery
                   ,
                
                 
                   Where
                   sweet
                   Pomegranates
                   grow
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Fruits
                   which
                   please
                   both
                   Taste
                   and
                   Eye
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thereto
                   the
                   Spices
                   flow
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   As
                   Camphire
                   ,
                   Spikenard
                   ,
                   Calamus
                   ,
                
                 
                   Saffron
                   and
                   Cynamon
                   ,
                
                 
                   Myrrh
                   ,
                   Aloes
                   and
                   Incense
                   Trees
                   .
                
                 
                   With
                   each
                   Spice
                   of
                   Renown
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   A
                   Garden
                   Fountain
                   is
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   A
                   Living
                   Well
                   is
                   She
                   ;
                
                 
                   Like
                   Lebanons
                   Streams
                   which
                   swiftly
                   move
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   down
                   to
                   Jordan
                   flee
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   Am
                   I
                   a
                   Garden
                   ?
                   Then
                   ,
                   O
                   North
                   ,
                
                 
                   Awake
                   ,
                   and
                   on
                   it
                   Breath
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   quickning
                   Breath
                   will
                   summon
                   forth
                
                 
                   The
                   Odours
                   from
                   Beneath
                   :
                
                 
                   Am
                   I
                   a
                   Garden
                   ?
                   Then
                   ,
                   O
                   South
                   ,
                
                 
                   Come
                   ,
                   on
                   this
                   Garden
                   blow
                   !
                
                 
                   One
                   Sovereign
                   Blast
                   out
                   of
                   thy
                   Mouth
                   ,
                
                 
                   vvill
                   make
                   its
                   Spices
                   flow
                   :
                
                 
                   Then
                   ,
                   then
                   ,
                   into
                   his
                   Paradise
                   ,
                
                 
                   Let
                   my
                   Beloved
                   come
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   And
                   eat
                   his
                   Fruits
                   ,
                   and
                   get
                   his
                   Spice
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   count
                   himself
                   at
                   home
                   .
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               IV.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   Mr
                   Dearest
                   Church
                   ,
                   I
                   do
                   admire
                
                 
                   The
                   Beauties
                   of
                   thy
                   Mind
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   Meek
                   ,
                   so
                   Harmless
                   ,
                   so
                   Entire
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   Loyal
                   and
                   so
                   Kind
                   :
                
                 
                   Ev'n
                   thy
                   Profession
                   I
                   esteem
                   ,
                
                 
                   Because
                   it
                   springs
                   from
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   makes
                   Thee
                   yet
                   more
                   comely
                   seem
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   Hair
                   adorns
                   the
                   Face
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Pastors
                   which
                   prepare
                   thy
                   Food
                   ,
                
                 
                   Do
                   in
                   their
                   Minds
                   agree
                   ;
                
                 
                   Their
                   Lives
                   and
                   Doctrines
                   both
                   are
                   good
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   bring
                   much
                   Fruit
                   to
                   me
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Speech
                   so
                   season'd
                   is
                   with
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   many
                   Hearts
                   it
                   moves
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   Graces
                   colour
                   in
                   thy
                   Face
                   ,
                
                 
                   It
                   s
                   great
                   Advantage
                   proves
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Faith
                   which
                   joyns
                   thee
                   to
                   thy
                   Head
                   ,
                
                 
                   Doth
                   shield
                   thine
                   inward
                   parts
                   ;
                
                 
                   This
                   Shield
                   hath
                   oft
                   extinguished
                
                 
                   The
                   Devil's
                   Fiery
                   Darts
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   two
                   Breasts
                   of
                   thy
                   Testaments
                
                 
                   Most
                   friendly
                   do
                   accord
                   ;
                
                 
                   Which
                   Nourishment
                   and
                   sweet
                   content
                
                 
                   To
                   new
                   Born
                   Babes
                   afford
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   The
                   Cries
                   of
                   a
                   Distressed
                   Soul
                   ,
                
                 
                   These
                   Breasts
                   of
                   Comfort
                   still
                   ;
                
                 
                   These
                   Breasts
                   make
                   glad
                   ,
                   whom
                   Sin
                   makes
                   sad
                   ,
                
                 
                   These
                   Breasts
                   the
                   Hungry
                   Fill.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   Word
                   is
                   here
                   the
                   Churches
                   Fare
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Faith
                   the
                   Churches
                   Light
                   ,
                
                 
                   Till
                   Shades
                   give
                   way
                   to
                   Glories
                   Day
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   shall
                   she
                   live
                   by
                   Sight
                   :
                
                 
                   Mean-while
                   my
                   Gracious
                   Presence
                   shall
                
                 
                   Her
                   dear
                   Assemblies
                   fill
                   ;
                
                 
                   Her
                   Prayers
                   shall
                   be
                   most
                   sweet
                   to
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   Sweet
                   as
                   the
                   Incense-Hill
                   :
                
                 
                   Mean-while
                   my
                   Glorious
                   Presence
                   shall
                
                 
                   Fill
                   Heav'n
                   ,
                   that
                   Holy
                   Ground
                   ,
                
                 
                   Where
                   Cherubims
                   and
                   Seraphims
                
                 
                   Their
                   Hallelujahs
                   sound
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Church
                   ,
                   how
                   clear
                   art
                   thou
                   ,
                
                 
                   On
                   whom
                   no
                   sin
                   remains
                   !
                
                 
                   My
                   Blood
                   apply'd
                   hath
                   purify'd
                
                 
                   Thee
                   from
                   thy
                   Guilts
                   and
                   stains
                   :
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   to
                   me
                   as
                   white
                   as
                   Snow
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   tho'
                   thou
                   finnest
                   still
                   ,
                
                 
                   Grace
                   keeps
                   thee
                   in
                   ,
                   thou
                   canst
                   not
                   sin
                
                 
                   With
                   full
                   consent
                   of
                   Will.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   Let
                   my
                   Fair
                   Glories
                   thee
                   intice
                
                 
                   To
                   come
                   along
                   with
                   me
                   ;
                
                 
                   Forsake
                   thine
                   Earthly
                   Paradise
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Paradise
                   I
                   'll
                   be
                   ;
                
                 
                   Birth
                   ,
                   Pleasures
                   ,
                   Riches
                   ,
                   Friends
                   and
                   Fame
                   ,
                
                 
                   Are
                   all
                   summ'd
                   up
                   in
                   Me.
                
                 
                 
                   O
                   that
                   thou
                   knew'st
                   how
                   good
                   I
                   am
                   !
                
                 
                   Come
                   now
                   and
                   tast
                   and
                   see
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   World
                   's
                   an
                   howling
                   Wilderness
                   ,
                
                 
                   Fill'd
                   with
                   the
                   Beasts
                   of
                   Prey
                   ;
                
                 
                   Whilst
                   that
                   they
                   Rage
                   ,
                   Roar
                   ,
                   and
                   Oppress
                   ,
                
                 
                   On
                   Canaan
                   fix
                   thine
                   Eye
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Heaven-born
                   Spouse
                   ,
                   whom
                   I
                   embrace
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Joy
                   and
                   Crown
                   thou
                   art
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thine
                   Eye
                   of
                   Faith
                   ,
                   thy
                   Chain
                   of
                   Grace
                
                 
                   Have
                   overcome
                   my
                   Heart
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Dearest
                   Spouse
                   of
                   Heav'nly
                   Birth
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Love
                   is
                   more
                   to
                   Me
                
                 
                   Than
                   all
                   the
                   Pleasures
                   of
                   the
                   Earth
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   sweet
                   thy
                   Graces
                   be
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Speeches
                   in
                   thy
                   Heart
                   are
                   bred
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   sweetly
                   do
                   they
                   flow
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   works
                   do
                   such
                   a
                   savour
                   spread
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   Lebanons
                   Spices
                   do
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   Disguised
                   to
                   the
                   World
                   thou
                   go'st
                   ,
                
                 
                   Heav'n
                   in
                   a
                   Mystery
                   ;
                
                 
                   To
                   me
                   thou
                   Run'st
                   ,
                   to
                   me
                   thou
                   Flow'st
                   ,
                
                 
                   None
                   knows
                   thy
                   worth
                   but
                   I
                   :
                
                 
                   As
                   thou
                   art
                   mine
                   ,
                   so
                   I
                   am
                   thine
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   doth
                   guard
                   thy
                   Heart
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Heart
                   's
                   with
                   me
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   's
                   with
                   thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   ,
                   how
                   safe
                   thou
                   art
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   13
                   ,
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   thou
                   art
                   a
                   Paradise
                   ,
                
                 
                   Where
                   Fruits
                   and
                   Spices
                   grow
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   Fair
                   are
                   thy
                   Fruits
                   ,
                   and
                   from
                   thy
                   Spice
                
                 
                   Thy
                   sweetest
                   Odours
                   flow
                   :
                
                 
                   Thy
                   tender
                   Plants
                   thy
                   Children
                   are
                   ,
                
                 
                   Their
                   Graces
                   Fruits
                   and
                   Spice
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   the
                   Tree
                   of
                   Life
                   in
                   Thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   ,
                   my
                   Paradise
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   a
                   Spring
                   ,
                   which
                   to
                   thy
                   Plants
                
                 
                   D●st
                   thy
                   pure
                   Streams
                   derive
                   ;
                
                 
                   Vnder
                   thine
                   Eye
                   and
                   Ministry
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Blest
                   Assemblies
                   thrive
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   ,
                   if
                   I
                   a
                   Garden
                   am
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   let
                   thy
                   Spirit
                   blow
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   with
                   its
                   Gales
                   refresh
                   the
                   same
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   make
                   my
                   Graces
                   flow
                   :
                
                 
                   And
                   when
                   thy
                   Spirit
                   thus
                   hath
                   blown
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   I
                   do
                   flourish
                   most
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   let
                   my
                   Dearest
                   Lord
                   come
                   down
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   feed
                   upon
                   his
                   Cost
                   .
                
                 
                   So
                   poor
                   I
                   am
                   ,
                   so
                   great
                   thou
                   art
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Lord
                   ,
                   how
                   can
                   I
                   Feast
                   ?
                
                 
                   Furnish
                   the
                   Table
                   of
                   my
                   Heart
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   come
                   and
                   be
                   my
                   Guest
                   .
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               V.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   'M
                   come
                   into
                   a
                   Paradise
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Sister
                   and
                   my
                   Spouse
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   've
                   gather'd
                   of
                   my
                   Myrrh
                   and
                   Spice
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   in
                   my
                   Garden
                   grows
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   My
                   Honey
                   Comb
                   and
                   Honey
                   too
                
                 
                   Have
                   been
                   my
                   sweet
                   Repast
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Wine
                   ,
                   my
                   Milk
                   which
                   here
                   do
                   flow
                   ,
                
                 
                   Have
                   chear'd
                   my
                   Heart
                   and
                   Tast
                   :
                
                 
                   My
                   Friends
                   and
                   dear
                   Companions
                   ,
                
                 
                   Come
                   ,
                   Feast
                   your selves
                   with
                   Me
                   ;
                
                 
                   Drink
                   ,
                   O
                   my
                   Welbeloved
                   Ones
                   ,
                
                 
                   Yea
                   ,
                   Drink
                   abundantly
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   sleep
                   ,
                   but
                   yet
                   my
                   Heart
                   doth
                   wake
                   ,
                
                 
                   Heark
                   ,
                   my
                   Beloved
                   One
                
                 
                   Doth
                   Knock
                   and
                   Call.
                   I
                   can't
                   mistake
                
                 
                   His
                   Knock
                   ,
                   his
                   Tread
                   ,
                   his
                   Tone
                   :
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                   my
                   Fathers
                   Child
                   ,
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ;
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   me
                   ,
                   my
                   Undefil'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   me
                   ,
                   my
                   Dove
                   :
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   me
                   ,
                   that
                   wait
                   for
                   Thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Head
                   is
                   fill'd
                   with
                   Dew
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   all
                   my
                   Locks
                   with
                   Ev'ning
                   Drops
                   ,
                
                 
                   Let
                   's
                   have
                   an
                   Enterview
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Coat
                   is
                   off
                   ,
                   and
                   how
                   shall
                   I
                
                 
                   Put
                   on
                   my
                   Coat
                   again
                   ?
                
                 
                   Should
                   I
                   come
                   o're
                   the
                   Dusty
                   Floor
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   washed
                   Feet
                   to
                   stain
                   ?
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Dearest
                   then
                   by
                   the
                   key-hole
                
                 
                   His
                   willing
                   Hand
                   did
                   move
                   ;
                
                 
                   Which
                   when
                   I
                   did
                   perceive
                   ,
                   my
                   Soul
                
                 
                   Was
                   touch'd
                   with
                   Grief
                   and
                   Love.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Rowz'd
                   by
                   this
                   Passion
                   ,
                   I
                   did
                   stir
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   answer'd
                   to
                   his
                   Call
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Hands
                   and
                   Fingers
                   drop'd
                   with
                   Myrrh
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   from
                   the
                   Lock
                   did
                   fall
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   Then
                   did
                   I
                   open
                   to
                   my
                   Dear
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   he
                   (
                   alas
                   !
                   )
                   was
                   gone
                   ;
                
                 
                   He
                   whom
                   I
                   did
                   so
                   lately
                   hear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Methoughts
                   I
                   was
                   undone
                   :
                
                 
                   I
                   sought
                   him
                   whom
                   my
                   Soul
                   ador'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   him
                   I
                   could
                   not
                   have
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   call'd
                   and
                   cry'd
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   my
                   Lord
                   !
                
                 
                   But
                   He
                   no
                   answer
                   gave
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Then
                   did
                   the
                   cruel
                   City-VVatch
                
                 
                   Smite
                   Me
                   ,
                   and
                   wound
                   Me
                   sore
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Keepers
                   of
                   the
                   VVall
                   did
                   snatch
                
                 
                   Away
                   the
                   Veil
                   I
                   wore
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Daughters
                   of
                   Jerusalem
                   !
                
                 
                   I
                   charge
                   You
                   ,
                   if
                   Ye
                   find
                
                 
                   My
                   Glorious
                   Dear
                   ,
                   that
                   he
                   may
                   hear
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   afflicts
                   my
                   Mind
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Daughters
                 of
                 Jerusalem
                 .
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   What
                   Jewel
                   is
                   this
                   Dear
                   of
                   thine
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   Fairest
                   ,
                   let
                   us
                   know
                   ;
                
                 
                   Wherein
                   does
                   thine
                   Others
                   out-shine
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   thou
                   dost
                   charge
                   us
                   so
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dear
                   Delight
                   is
                   Red
                   and
                   VVhite
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Lilly
                   and
                   the
                   Rose
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   So
                   sweet
                   a
                   Grace
                   adorns
                   his
                   Face
                   ,
                
                 
                   Ten
                   thousand
                   he
                   out-goes
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Head
                   is
                   like
                   the
                   Finest
                   Gold
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   curled
                   Locks
                   doth
                   wear
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   do
                   the
                   Ravens
                   Colour
                   hold
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   comely
                   is
                   his
                   Hair.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Eyes
                   are
                   like
                   the
                   Eyes
                   of
                   Doves
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   on
                   the
                   Banks
                   are
                   met
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   do
                   the
                   streams
                   of
                   VVater
                   love
                   ,
                
                 
                   Milk-washt
                   and
                   fitly
                   set
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Cheeks
                   are
                   like
                   a
                   spicy
                   Bed
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhere
                   all
                   Perfumes
                   do
                   meet
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   Lips
                   like
                   Lillies
                   ,
                   whence
                   is
                   shed
                
                 
                   The
                   Myrrh
                   that
                   smells
                   so
                   sweet
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Hands
                   are
                   like
                   the
                   Chrysolite
                
                 
                   In
                   Rings
                   of
                   Gold
                   display'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   Belly
                   is
                   like
                   Ivory
                   bright
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVith
                   Sapphires
                   overlaid
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Legs
                   like
                   Marble
                   Pillars
                   are
                
                 
                   On
                   Golden
                   Sockets
                   set
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   Face
                   ,
                   like
                   Lebanon
                   ,
                   is
                   most
                   Fair
                   ,
                
                 
                   Like
                   Cedars
                   most
                   compleat
                   .
                
                 
                   His
                   Mouth
                   is
                   most
                   exceeding
                   Sweet
                   ,
                
                 
                   Yea
                   ,
                   he
                   is
                   wholly
                   so
                   ;
                
                 
                   Down
                   from
                   his
                   Head
                   unto
                   his
                   Feet
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVith
                   Sweetness
                   he
                   doth
                   flow
                   :
                
                 
                   O
                   Salems
                   Daughters
                   ,
                   This
                   is
                   He
                
                 
                   Of
                   whom
                   ye
                   did
                   enquire
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   This
                   is
                   the
                   Friend
                   that
                   loveth
                   Me
                   ,
                
                 
                   This
                   is
                   my
                   Hearts
                   desire
                   .
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               V.
               
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   MY
                   Love
                   ,
                   (
                   my
                   Dearest
                   )
                   hath
                   Me
                   brought
                
                 
                   Whither
                   thou
                   didst
                   Invite
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Graces
                   which
                   my
                   Hand
                   hath
                   wrought
                   ,
                
                 
                   Have
                   been
                   my
                   Souls
                   delight
                   :
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   a
                   Vine
                   ,
                   which
                   with
                   thy
                   VVine
                   ,
                
                 
                   Both
                   God
                   and
                   Man
                   dost
                   chear
                   ;
                
                 
                   Feed
                   on
                   the
                   Fruits
                   prepar'd
                   in
                   Thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   A
                   constant
                   Feast
                   is
                   there
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Such
                   drowsiness
                   doth
                   me
                   possess
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   live
                   ,
                   and
                   yet
                   I
                   die
                   ;
                
                 
                   Some
                   Life
                   I
                   have
                   ,
                   no
                   Liveliness
                   ,
                
                 
                   How
                   dark
                   and
                   cold
                   am
                   I
                   !
                
                 
                   Here
                   in
                   the
                   dark
                   and
                   deep
                   I
                   grope
                   ,
                
                 
                   Who
                   us'd
                   to
                   live
                   above
                   ;
                
                 
                   Where
                   is
                   my
                   Faith
                   ?
                   Where
                   is
                   my
                   Hope
                   ?
                
                 
                   Where
                   is
                   my
                   wonted
                   Love
                   ?
                
                 
                   It
                   is
                   no
                   Strangers
                   Voice
                   I
                   hear
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   know
                   it
                   is
                   my
                   Lords
                   .
                
                 
                   He
                   knocks
                   both
                   at
                   my
                   Heart
                   and
                   Ear
                   ,
                
                 
                   These
                   are
                   his
                   loving
                   words
                   ,
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                   my
                   Fathers
                   Child
                   ,
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                   my
                   Undefil'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   Open
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                   my
                   Dove
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   My
                   Gracious
                   Patience
                   hath
                   stood
                
                 
                   Long
                   waiting
                   at
                   thy
                   Door
                   ;
                
                 
                   Fain
                   would
                   I
                   enter
                   for
                   thy
                   good
                   ;
                
                 
                   Slight
                   not
                   thy
                   Saviour
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   One
                   would
                   have
                   thought
                   such
                   melting
                   words
                
                 
                   Should
                   break
                   an
                   heart
                   of
                   Steel
                
                 
                   But
                   I
                   (
                   Alas
                   !
                   )
                   so
                   stupid
                   was
                   ,
                
                 
                   Their
                   Force
                   I
                   did
                   not
                   feel
                   :
                
                 
                   My
                   Answer
                   was
                   to
                   this
                   Effect
                   ,
                
                 
                   Lord
                   ,
                   now
                   I
                   am
                   at
                   ease
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   Lord
                   ,
                   if
                   I
                   should
                   Thee
                   respect
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Friends
                   I
                   should
                   displease
                   :
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Service
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                   would
                   cost
                   me
                   dear
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   World
                   would
                   me
                   molest
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   heavy
                   Cross
                   how
                   can
                   I
                   bear
                   ?
                
                 
                   Do
                   not
                   disturb
                   my
                   Rest
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   to
                   this
                   made
                   no
                   Reply
                   ,
                
                 
                   Only
                   on
                   Me
                   he
                   cast
                
                 
                   A
                   sad
                   and
                   a
                   Rebuking
                   Eye
                   ,
                
                 
                   On
                   which
                   this
                   sense
                   I
                   pass'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   Dost
                   thou
                   my
                   Patience
                   thus
                   requite
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   make
                   it
                   longer
                   bear
                   ?
                
                 
                   Dost
                   all
                   my
                   Love
                   and
                   Sufferings
                   slight
                   ?
                
                 
                   I
                   look'd
                   for
                   better
                   Fare
                   ;
                
                 
                   This
                   stirr'd
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   my
                   Grief
                   and
                   shame
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   put
                   me
                   to
                   such
                   pain
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   That
                   I
                   resolv'd
                   ,
                   whatever
                   came
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   own
                   my
                   Christ
                   again
                   ,
                
                 
                   Accurst
                   Temptations
                   ,
                   be
                   ye
                   gone
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   do
                   not
                   me
                   restrain
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   Satan
                   Avaunt
                   ,
                   let
                   Me
                   alone
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   'll
                   have
                   my
                   Christ
                   again
                   :
                
                 
                   This
                   Resolution
                   gave
                   some
                   Ease
                
                 
                   To
                   my
                   distressed
                   Mind
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Griefs
                   did
                   then
                   begin
                   to
                   cease
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   I
                   to
                   Christ
                   inclin'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   But
                   when
                   I
                   did
                   my self
                   address
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Saviour
                   to
                   embrace
                   ;
                
                 
                   Alas
                   !
                   for
                   my
                   Unworthiness
                
                 
                   My
                   Saviour
                   hid
                   his
                   Face
                   :
                
                 
                   For
                   He
                   is
                   Great
                   as
                   well
                   as
                   Good
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   will
                   not
                   be
                   disdain'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   Then
                   his
                   kind
                   words
                   ,
                   which
                   I
                   withstood
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Conscience
                   sorely
                   pain'd
                   :
                
                 
                   O
                   then
                   I
                   wish'd
                   a
                   thousand
                   times
                
                 
                   That
                   I
                   had
                   been
                   so
                   wise
                
                 
                   To
                   shake
                   off
                   my
                   Security
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   Christ
                   bade
                   Me
                   arise
                   :
                
                 
                   I
                   sought
                   him
                   daily
                   in
                   his
                   VVord
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   him
                   I
                   could
                   not
                   have
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   call'd
                   and
                   cry'd
                   ,
                   My
                   Love
                   ,
                   my
                   Lord
                   !
                
                 
                   But
                   he
                   no
                   Answer
                   gave
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Earth
                   did
                   oppress
                   whom
                   Heav'n
                   forsook
                   ,
                
                 
                   Nothing
                   but
                   Griefs
                   I
                   found
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   they
                   who
                   to
                   my
                   Soul
                   should
                   look
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Soul
                   did
                   pierce
                   and
                   wound
                   :
                
                 
                   Their
                   words
                   and
                   deeds
                   did
                   both
                   conspire
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   grieve
                   my
                   grieved
                   heart
                   ;
                
                 
                   Their
                   Scorns
                   and
                   Jears
                   were
                   Swords
                   &
                   Spears
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   did
                   increase
                   my
                   Smart
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   But
                   still
                   my
                   greatest
                   wound
                   was
                   here
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   I
                   could
                   not
                   find
                   ;
                
                 
                   Had
                   I
                   my
                   Lord
                   ,
                   I
                   should
                   not
                   care
                   ,
                
                 
                   Tho'
                   others
                   prov'd
                   unkind
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   Another
                   Course
                   I
                   straightways
                   took
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   did
                   repair
                   to
                   those
                
                 
                   VVho
                   Sion
                   wards
                   do
                   often
                   look
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   did
                   my
                   Case
                   propose
                   :
                
                 
                   Blest
                   Souls
                   said
                   I
                   who
                   oft
                   attend
                
                 
                   At
                   the
                   Almighties
                   Court
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Case
                   to
                   you
                   I
                   do
                   commend
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   you
                   may
                   it
                   report
                   :
                
                 
                   A
                   Lord
                   I
                   have
                   or
                   rather
                   had
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   VVelbeloved
                   one
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   Presence
                   us'd
                   to
                   make
                   me
                   glad
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   ,
                   Ah
                   ,
                   my
                   Lord
                   is
                   gone
                   !
                
                 
                   If
                   when
                   you
                   pray
                   ,
                   he
                   should
                   acquaint
                
                 
                   You
                   with
                   his
                   Love
                   and
                   Grace
                   ;
                
                 
                   Tell
                   him
                   from
                   me
                   ,
                   my
                   Heart
                   doth
                   faint
                
                 
                   And
                   Languish
                   for
                   his
                   Face
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   VVho
                   is
                   ,
                   said
                   they
                   ,
                   this
                   Lord
                   of
                   thine
                   ?
                
                 
                   O
                   Fairest
                   ,
                   let
                   us
                   know
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVherein
                   does
                   thine
                   others
                   out-shine
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   thou
                   dost
                   Charge
                   us
                   so
                   ?
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   is
                   VVhite
                   and
                   Red
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhite
                   thro'
                   his
                   Purity
                   ,
                
                 
                   Red
                   thro'
                   his
                   Blood
                   which
                   he
                   did
                   shed
                
                 
                   For
                   such
                   an
                   one
                   as
                   I
                   :
                
                 
                   VVas
                   he
                   not
                   Red
                   ,
                   but
                   only
                   White
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Lilly
                   ,
                   not
                   the
                   Rose
                   ;
                
                 
                 
                   He
                   might
                   delight
                   the
                   Angels
                   Sight
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   I
                   am
                   none
                   of
                   those
                   :
                
                 
                   Was
                   he
                   not
                   White
                   but
                   only
                   Red
                   ,
                
                 
                   A
                   Sufferer
                   for
                   his
                   sin
                   ;
                
                 
                   His
                   Blood
                   would
                   rest
                   upon
                   his
                   head
                   ,
                
                 
                   Nor
                   could
                   I
                   Joy
                   therein
                   :
                
                 
                   But
                   my
                   dear
                   Lord
                   is
                   White
                   and
                   Red
                   ,
                
                 
                   This
                   Mixture
                   pleaseth
                   me
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   ,
                   for
                   my
                   sins
                   he
                   suffered
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   he
                   from
                   sin
                   was
                   free
                   :
                
                 
                   What
                   a
                   reviving
                   sight
                   is
                   this
                   ?
                
                 
                   A
                   righteous
                   Saviour's
                   Blood
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Bath
                   of
                   Sin
                   ,
                   the
                   Spring
                   of
                   Bliss
                   ,
                
                 
                   Most
                   pure
                   ,
                   most
                   sweet
                   and
                   good
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   fond
                   inchanted
                   VVorld
                   admires
                
                 
                   Their
                   Idols
                   here
                   below
                   ;
                
                 
                   Their
                   creeping
                   ,
                   groveling
                   ,
                   poor
                   Desires
                
                 
                   Their
                   Childish
                   Minds
                   do
                   shew
                   :
                
                 
                   Did
                   but
                   my
                   Glorious
                   Lord
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   did
                   they
                   him
                   but
                   know
                   ,
                
                 
                   What
                   formerly
                   their
                   Glories
                   were
                   ,
                
                 
                   Would
                   be
                   no
                   longer
                   so
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   lesser
                   Lights
                   all
                   disappear
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   once
                   my
                   Sun
                   doth
                   shine
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   tho'
                   Ten
                   Thousand
                   Lords
                   were
                   here
                   ,
                
                 
                   None
                   could
                   be
                   like
                   to
                   mine
                   :
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   ,
                   he
                   is
                   the
                   King
                   of
                   Kings
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Fairest
                   of
                   all
                   Fairs
                   ;
                
                 
                   Of
                   all
                   your
                   fine
                   and
                   boasted
                   things
                   ,
                
                 
                   None
                   with
                   my
                   Lord
                   compares
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   VVhat
                   's
                   your
                   thick
                   Clay
                   ?
                   Your
                   stones
                   bring
                   forth
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   ye
                   your
                   Jewels
                   call
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   ,
                   he
                   is
                   of
                   real
                   worth
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   goes
                   beyond
                   them
                   all
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Godhead
                   and
                   his
                   Government
                
                 
                   Are
                   infinitely
                   pure
                   ,
                
                 
                   Most
                   Glorious
                   and
                   most
                   Excellent
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   ever
                   shall
                   endure
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   is
                   a
                   pure
                   and
                   piercing
                   Eye
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thro'
                   all
                   the
                   Earth
                   it
                   moves
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   the
                   dark
                   Hypocrite
                   doth
                   spy
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   secret
                   good
                   approves
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Cheeks
                   appear
                   most
                   bright
                   and
                   clear
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   he
                   himself
                   doth
                   shew
                   ;
                
                 
                   Methinks
                   I
                   in
                   a
                   Garden
                   walk
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhere
                   Flowers
                   and
                   Spices
                   grow
                   :
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   he
                   doth
                   my
                   affections
                   stir
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   speaks
                   unto
                   my
                   Mind
                   ;
                
                 
                   Methinks
                   the
                   Lillies
                   drop
                   with
                   Myrrh
                   ,
                
                 
                   Such
                   Savour
                   do
                   I
                   find
                   :
                
                 
                   So
                   sweet
                   a
                   Grace
                   adorns
                   his
                   Face
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   Face
                   ,
                   like
                   Heav'n
                   doth
                   shine
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   O
                   what
                   Musick
                   do
                   I
                   hear
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   he
                   saith
                   ,
                   I
                   am
                   thine
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Hands
                   are
                   like
                   to
                   Rings
                   of
                   Gold
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   works
                   of
                   my
                   dear
                   Lord
                
                 
                   Are
                   bright
                   and
                   comely
                   to
                   behold
                   ,
                
                 
                   His
                   VVorks
                   fulfil
                   his
                   VVord
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   The
                   Tender
                   Bowels
                   of
                   his
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   How
                   precious
                   they
                   be
                   !
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   I
                   am
                   Griev'd
                   ,
                   his
                   Bowels
                   move
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   loudly
                   plead
                   for
                   me
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   15.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   sweet
                   Proceedings
                   of
                   my
                   Lord
                
                 
                   Are
                   like
                   his
                   Purposes
                   ;
                
                 
                   Holy
                   and
                   Pure
                   ,
                   and
                   Firm
                   and
                   sure
                   ,
                
                 
                   Both
                   Love
                   and
                   Stedfastness
                   :
                
                 
                   His
                   Countenance
                   Majestical
                
                 
                   All
                   Rev'rence
                   doth
                   Command
                   ;
                
                 
                   If
                   he
                   but
                   Frowns
                   on
                   us
                   ,
                   we
                   fall
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   if
                   he
                   Smiles
                   ,
                   we
                   stand
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   16.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Mouth
                   is
                   most
                   exceeding
                   sweet
                   ,
                
                 
                   All
                   sweetness
                   like
                   an
                   Hive
                   ,
                
                 
                   One
                   word
                   of
                   his
                   like
                   Honey
                   is
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   how
                   it
                   doth
                   revive
                   !
                
                 
                   As
                   I
                   begun
                   should
                   I
                   go
                   on
                
                 
                   My
                   Dearest
                   Lord
                   to
                   Limn
                   ,
                
                 
                   You
                   'd
                   say
                   ,
                   all
                   sweets
                   compacte●●●
                
                 
                   And
                   summed
                   up
                   in
                   him
                   .
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   is
                   Larger
                   than
                   Desires
                   ,
                
                 
                   Fairer
                   than
                   VVords
                   can
                   show
                   ;
                
                 
                   One
                   comely
                   part
                   fond
                   Earth
                   admires
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   is
                   wholly
                   so
                   .
                
                 
                   O
                   Heav'n-born
                   Souls
                   ,
                   This
                   ,
                   This
                   is
                   he
                
                 
                   Of
                   whom
                   ye
                   did
                   enquire
                   ;
                
                 
                   This
                   is
                   the
                   Friend
                   that
                   Loveth
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   This
                   is
                   my
                   Hearts
                   Desire
                   :
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               VI.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Daughters
                 of
                 Jerusalem
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   FAirest
                   of
                   Fairs
                   ,
                   if
                   thus
                   it
                   be
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   whither
                   is
                   he
                   gone
                   ?
                
                 
                   Tell
                   us
                   ,
                   that
                   we
                   may
                   seek
                   with
                   thee
                
                 
                   This
                   thy
                   Beloved
                   One.
                   
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Down
                   to
                   his
                   Garden
                   he
                   is
                   gone
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhere
                   Beds
                   of
                   Spices
                   are
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   he
                   may
                   Feed
                   and
                   Feast
                   thereon
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Gather
                   Lillies
                   there
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   my
                   VVelbeloved
                   ones
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   VVelbeloved's
                   mine
                   ;
                
                 
                   He
                   Feeds
                   and
                   Treads
                   in
                   pleasant
                   Meads
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhere
                   the
                   bright
                   Lillies
                   shine
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   ,
                   like
                   Tirzah
                   ,
                   thou
                   art
                   Neat
                   ,
                
                 
                   
                     And
                     like
                  
                   Jerusalem
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   like
                   an
                   Army
                   so
                   Compleat
                   ,
                
                 
                   Men
                   fly
                   for
                   Fear
                   of
                   them
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   turn
                   away
                   thine
                   Eyes
                   from
                   me
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   bright
                   and
                   sparkling
                   Eyes
                   ,
                
                 
                   To
                   bear
                   so
                   great
                   Felicity
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   strength
                   doth
                   not
                   suffice
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Hairy
                   Locks
                   are
                   like
                   Goats
                   Flocks
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   from
                   Mount
                   Gilead
                   look
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   So
                   are
                   thy
                   Teeth
                   like
                   VVell
                   shorn
                   sheep
                   ,
                
                 
                   Come
                   from
                   the
                   VVashing-brook
                   ,
                
                 
                 
                   They
                   Pregnant
                   are
                   as
                   well
                   as
                   Fair
                   ,
                
                 
                   For
                   Fruit
                   as
                   well
                   as
                   View
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   each
                   of
                   them
                   her
                   Twins
                   doth
                   bear
                   ,
                
                 
                   There
                   's
                   not
                   one
                   barren
                   Ewe
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   As
                   broke
                   Pomegranate
                   seemeth
                   Red
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   shines
                   exceeding
                   clear
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   do
                   the
                   temples
                   of
                   thy
                   Head
                   ,
                
                 
                   Within
                   thy
                   Locks
                   appear
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   Thrice
                   twenty
                   Queens
                   together
                   stand
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   fourscore
                   Concubines
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   Virgins
                   like
                   the
                   num'rous
                   sand
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   to
                   the
                   Sea
                   adjoyns
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   spotless
                   Dove
                   ,
                   she
                   is
                   but
                   one
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Darling
                   of
                   her
                   Mother
                   ,
                
                 
                   Who
                   loves
                   and
                   prizes
                   her
                   alone
                   ,
                
                 
                   She
                   knows
                   not
                   such
                   another
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   Daughters
                   saw
                   her
                   comely
                   Lines
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   prais'd
                   her
                   Lovely
                   Face
                   ;
                
                 
                   Yea
                   ,
                   all
                   the
                   Queens
                   and
                   Concubines
                
                 
                   Admir'd
                   her
                   Beauteous
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   VVhat
                   Morn
                   looks
                   forth
                   ?
                   what
                   Moon
                   is
                   there
                   ?
                
                 
                   VVhat
                   Sun
                   may
                   yonder
                   be
                   ?
                
                 
                   Fierce
                   Troups
                   with
                   Flags
                   display'd
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   what
                   a
                   One
                   is
                   She
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   To
                   the
                   Nut-Garden
                   down
                   I
                   went
                
                 
                   To
                   see
                   the
                   Fruits
                   below
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhether
                   the
                   Vines
                   their
                   Grapes
                   did
                   vent
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   the
                   Pomegranates
                   grow
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Soul
                   gave
                   me
                   a
                   sudden
                   twitch
                
                 
                   And
                   made
                   me
                   nimbly
                   slide
                   ,
                
                 
                   Like
                   those
                   swift
                   Chariots
                   ,
                   in
                   which
                
                 
                   Amminadib
                   did
                   Ride
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   Return
                   ,
                   Return
                   ,
                   O
                   Shulamite
                   .
                
                 
                   Return
                   ,
                   Return
                   Apace
                
                 
                   That
                   we
                   may
                   look
                   with
                   much
                   delight
                
                 
                   Vpon
                   thy
                   Glorious
                   Face
                   :
                
                 
                   What
                   in
                   the
                   Shulamite
                   I
                   pray
                   ,
                
                 
                   Do
                   ye
                   expect
                   to
                   see
                   ?
                
                 
                   Two
                   Armies
                   set
                   in
                   good
                   Array
                
                 
                   Even
                   such
                   a
                   one
                   is
                   she
                   .
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP
               VI.
               
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   WHilst
                   thus
                   my
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   I
                   prais'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   I
                   could
                   do
                   no
                   less
                   ;
                
                 
                   They
                   heard
                   ,
                   they
                   look'd
                   ,
                   they
                   stood
                   amaz'd
                
                 
                   At
                   my
                   great
                   happiness
                   :
                
                 
                   And
                   when
                   I
                   ceas'd
                   they
                   thus
                   reply'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   Fairest
                   we
                   must
                   needs
                
                 
                   Congratulate
                   thy
                   Blest
                   Estate
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   ours
                   so
                   far
                   exceeds
                   :
                
                 
                   O
                   that
                   we
                   were
                   in
                   such
                   a
                   Case
                
                 
                   As
                   we
                   perceive
                   thou
                   art
                   ;
                
                 
                   O
                   that
                   our
                   Souls
                   might
                   find
                   a
                   place
                
                 
                   In
                   thy
                   Beloved's
                   Heart
                   :
                
                 
                   Whither
                   is
                   thy
                   Beloved
                   gone
                   ?
                
                 
                   Pray
                   ,
                   let
                   us
                   go
                   with
                   thee
                   ,
                
                 
                 
                   To
                   seek
                   thy
                   Well
                   beloved
                   One
                   ,
                
                 
                   Whose
                   Face
                   we
                   fain
                   would
                   see
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   If
                   you
                   my
                   dearest
                   Lord
                   would
                   see
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   go
                   unto
                   his
                   Court
                   ,
                
                 
                   Look
                   where
                   his
                   Saints
                   Assembled
                   be
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thither
                   you
                   must
                   Resort
                   :
                
                 
                   For
                   they
                   his
                   Pleasure-Gardens
                   are
                   ,
                
                 
                   Where
                   he
                   delights
                   to
                   be
                   ;
                
                 
                   They
                   are
                   his
                   Comfort
                   and
                   his
                   Care
                   ,
                
                 
                   There
                   you
                   my
                   Lord
                   may
                   see
                   :
                
                 
                   Some
                   Souls
                   he
                   breeds
                   ,
                   and
                   some
                   he
                   feeds
                   ,
                
                 
                   Others
                   he
                   doth
                   remove
                   ;
                
                 
                   Hence
                   for
                   his
                   lower
                   Gardens
                   to
                
                 
                   His
                   Paradise
                   above
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   my
                   Well-beloved
                   ones
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Well-beloved's
                   mine
                   ;
                
                 
                   To
                   me
                   his
                   Love
                   a
                   Feast
                   doth
                   prove
                   ,
                
                 
                   Beyond
                   the
                   Richest
                   Wine
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Church
                   ,
                   on
                   whom
                   I
                   see
                
                 
                   A
                   Fair
                   and
                   Royal
                   Stamp
                   ;
                
                 
                   All
                   sweetness
                   joyn'd
                   with
                   Majesty
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   both
                   court
                   and
                   camp
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Prayers
                   are
                   arms
                   ,
                   thy
                   Praises
                   charms
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Love
                   is
                   like
                   a
                   Dart
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Faith
                   and
                   Graces
                   are
                   so
                   strong
                   ,
                
                 
                   They
                   overcome
                   my
                   Heart
                   :
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Fair
                   Profession
                   I
                   esteem
                   ,
                
                 
                   Because
                   it
                   springs
                   from
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                 
                   Which
                   makes
                   thee
                   yet
                   more
                   comely
                   seem
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   Hair
                   adorns
                   the
                   Face
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Pastors
                   which
                   prepare
                   thy
                   Food
                   ,
                
                 
                   Do
                   in
                   their
                   Minds
                   agree
                   ,
                
                 
                   Their
                   Lives
                   and
                   Doctrines
                   both
                   are
                   good
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   bring
                   much
                   Fruit
                   to
                   me
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   countenance
                   so
                   shines
                   with
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   many
                   Hearts
                   it
                   moves
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   Grace's
                   colour
                   in
                   thy
                   Face
                   ,
                
                 
                   It
                   s
                   great
                   Advantage
                   proves
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   World
                   presents
                   its
                   glorious
                   Shews
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   what
                   are
                   those
                   to
                   me
                   ?
                
                 
                   In
                   my
                   dear
                   Church
                   ,
                   my
                   only
                   Spouse
                   ,
                
                 
                   All
                   Glories
                   do
                   I
                   see
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   Earths
                   Pride
                   would
                   soon
                   confounded
                   be
                   ,
                
                 
                   Should
                   but
                   my
                   Spouse
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Who
                   to
                   her
                   mother
                   and
                   to
                   me
                
                 
                   Is
                   so
                   exceeding
                   dear
                   .
                
                 
                   Her
                   Noble
                   Birth
                   and
                   Real
                   Worth
                   ,
                
                 
                   Have
                   gain'd
                   her
                   so
                   much
                   Fame
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   greatest
                   Princes
                   of
                   the
                   Earth
                
                 
                   Have
                   prais'd
                   her
                   worthy
                   Name
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   Her
                   Sweetness
                   joyn'd
                   with
                   Majesty
                   ,
                
                 
                   Her
                   Presence
                   much
                   Endear'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   Her
                   Power
                   with
                   her
                   Purity
                
                 
                   Made
                   her
                   both
                   lov'd
                   and
                   fear'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   have
                   been
                   with
                   my
                   new
                   born
                   Saints
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   have
                   been
                   down
                   to
                   see
                
                 
                   What
                   Buds
                   were
                   on
                   my
                   tender
                   Plants
                   ,
                
                 
                   What
                   hopes
                   of
                   Fruit
                   for
                   me
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   When
                   my
                   dear
                   Church
                   ,
                   I
                   hid
                   my
                   Face
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thou
                   did'st
                   thy self
                   bemoan
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   did
                   but
                   prove
                   thy
                   Faithful
                   Love
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   thou
                   thought'st
                   I
                   was
                   gone
                   :
                
                 
                   My
                   Bowels
                   yearn'd
                   when
                   thou
                   didst
                   Cry
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   did
                   me
                   constrain
                   ;
                
                 
                   To
                   haste
                   apace
                   ,
                   and
                   shew
                   my
                   Face
                
                 
                   To
                   thy
                   griev'd
                   Soul
                   again
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   Return
                   ,
                   Return
                   my
                   dearest
                   Church
                   ,
                
                 
                   Return
                   ,
                   Return
                   to
                   me
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Heav'nly
                   Quire
                   ,
                   and
                   I
                   desire
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Blessed
                   Face
                   to
                   see
                   :
                
                 
                   My
                   Heav'nly
                   Host
                   ,
                   if
                   ye
                   would
                   know
                
                 
                   My
                   Churches
                   State
                   and
                   Case
                   ;
                
                 
                   She
                   is
                   another
                   Host
                   below
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   of
                   an
                   awful
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               VII
               .
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Daughters
                   of
                   a
                   Prince
                   how
                   Fair
                
                 
                   Are
                   both
                   thy
                   Shooes
                   and
                   Feet
                   !
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Joynts
                   and
                   Thighs
                   like
                   Jewels
                   are
                   ,
                
                 
                   Wrought
                   by
                   an
                   hand
                   discreet
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Navel
                   as
                   a
                   Cup
                   compleat
                   ,
                
                 
                   With
                   Liquor
                   doth
                   abound
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Belly
                   's
                   like
                   an
                   Heap
                   of
                   Wheat
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   Lillies
                   do
                   surround
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   two
                   Breasts
                   are
                   like
                   two
                   young
                   Roes
                   ,
                
                 
                   Well
                   Shap'd
                   and
                   well
                   agreed
                   ,
                
                 
                 
                   Both
                   which
                   are
                   Loving
                   Twins
                   ,
                   and
                   those
                
                 
                   Among
                   the
                   Lillies
                   Feed
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Neck
                   ,
                   like
                   I
                   vory
                   is
                   most
                   Fair
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   like
                   a
                   Tower
                   most
                   straight
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thine
                   Eyes
                   like
                   beshbon
                   pools
                   ,
                   which
                   are
                
                 
                   Hard
                   by
                   Bath-Rabim
                   Gate
                   :
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Nose
                   is
                   like
                   to
                   Lebanons
                   Tower
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Tower
                   which
                   doth
                   Command
                
                 
                   
                   Damascus-Town
                   ,
                   the
                   Chiefest
                   Flower
                
                 
                   Of
                   all
                   the
                   Syrian
                   Land.
                   
                
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Thine
                   Head
                   on
                   thee
                   like
                   Carmel
                   is
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thine
                   Hair
                   ,
                   like
                   Purple
                   stain'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Galleries
                   so
                   take
                   his
                   Eyes
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   King
                   is
                   there
                   detain'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   How
                   Fair
                   art
                   thou
                   ,
                   how
                   pleasant
                   art
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   ,
                   unto
                   my
                   sight
                   !
                
                 
                   So
                   sweetly
                   Grac'd
                   in
                   every
                   part
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   my
                   whole
                   delight
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   〈◊〉
                   Vnto
                   a
                   Palm-Tree
                   I
                   compare
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Stature
                   straight
                   and
                   fine
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Breasts
                   appear
                   both
                   full
                   and
                   fair
                
                 
                   Like
                   Clusters
                   of
                   the
                   Vine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   〈◊〉
                   I
                   said
                   I
                   will
                   this
                   Palm-Tree
                   Climb
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   'll
                   search
                   her
                   Branches
                   well
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Breasts
                   shall
                   now
                   like
                   Clusters
                   shew
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Nose
                   like
                   Apples
                   swell
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   〈◊〉
                   Thy
                   Palate's
                   like
                   the
                   choicest
                   Wine
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   for
                   my
                   Friend
                   I
                   keep
                   ;
                
                 
                   Which
                   sweetly
                   Flows
                   ,
                   and
                   causeth
                   those
                
                 
                   To
                   Speak
                   that
                   are
                   asleep
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   my
                   Well-beloved's
                   own
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   He
                   is
                   wholly
                   mine
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Stream
                   of
                   his
                   Affection
                
                 
                   Doth
                   towards
                   me
                   incline
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   Come
                   ,
                   my
                   Beloved
                   ,
                   let
                   us
                   go
                
                 
                   Into
                   the
                   Fields
                   abroad
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   in
                   the
                   Villages
                   below
                
                 
                   Let
                   's
                   take
                   up
                   our
                   Abode
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   Let
                   's
                   go
                   up
                   early
                   in
                   the
                   Morn
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   to
                   the
                   Vineyards
                   go
                   ;
                
                 
                   To
                   see
                   what
                   Fruits
                   the
                   Trees
                   adorn
                   ,
                
                 
                   Whether
                   the
                   Vine
                   doth
                   grow
                   :
                
                 
                   Whether
                   the
                   tender
                   Grapes
                   appear
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   the
                   Pomegranates
                   thrive
                   ,
                
                 
                   (
                   The
                   Hopes
                   of
                   the
                   Ensuing
                   Year
                   )
                
                 
                   There
                   thee
                   my
                   Loves
                   I
                   'll
                   give
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   Mandrakes
                   smell
                   ,
                   and
                   at
                   our
                   Door
                
                 
                   All
                   pleasant
                   Fruits
                   there
                   be
                   ,
                
                 
                   Both
                   New
                   and
                   Old
                   which
                   are
                   my
                   Store
                   ,
                
                 
                   Laid
                   up
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   ,
                   for
                   Thee
                   .
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               VII
               .
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Daughter
                   of
                   the
                   Mighty
                   God
                   ,
                
                 
                   How
                   comely
                   are
                   thy
                   Feet
                   ?
                
                 
                   VVith
                   Gospel-preparation
                   Shod
                   !
                
                 
                   Thy
                   carriage
                   how
                   discreet
                   ?
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Thou
                   art
                   both
                   Fair
                   and
                   Fruitful
                   too
                   ,
                
                 
                   Great
                   Numbers
                   thou
                   dost
                   Breed
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   with
                   good
                   Meals
                   ,
                   the
                   VVord
                   and
                   Seals
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thou
                   liberally
                   dost
                   feed
                   ,
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   The
                   two
                   Breasts
                   of
                   thy
                   Testaments
                
                 
                   Most
                   friendly
                   do
                   accord
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   Nourishment
                   and
                   sweet
                   content
                
                 
                   To
                   New-born
                   Babes
                   afford
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   cries
                   of
                   a
                   distressed
                   Soul
                   ,
                
                 
                   These
                   Breasts
                   of
                   comfort
                   still
                   ;
                
                 
                   These
                   Breasts
                   make
                   glad
                   whom
                   sin
                   makes
                   sad
                   ,
                
                 
                   These
                   Breasts
                   the
                   Hungry
                   ●ill
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Faith
                   is
                   thy
                   strong
                   Fort
                   and
                   Tower
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thine
                   Vnderstanding
                   clear
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Judging
                   and
                   Discerning
                   Power
                
                 
                   Informs
                   when
                   Danger
                   's
                   near
                   :
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Christ
                   ,
                   thy
                   Head
                   of
                   Eminence
                
                 
                   All
                   Others
                   doth
                   exceed
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Christ
                   ,
                   thy
                   Head
                   of
                   Influence
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Grace
                   doth
                   keep
                   and
                   feed
                   :
                
                 
                   VVhen
                   thine
                   Assemblies
                   Exercise
                
                 
                   Their
                   Graces
                   freely
                   given
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   King
                   walks
                   in
                   those
                   Galleries
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   in
                   another
                   Heaven
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   ,
                   who
                   art
                   most
                   New
                   ,
                   most
                   Fair
                   ,
                
                 
                   How
                   Dear
                   art
                   thou
                   and
                   Sweet
                   ;
                
                 
                   In
                   whom
                   all
                   Sweets
                   compacted
                   are
                   ,
                
                 
                   In
                   whom
                   all
                   Graces
                   meet
                   ?
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Vnder
                   thy
                   weight
                   thou
                   flourishest
                
                 
                   As
                   the
                   stout
                   Palm-Tree
                   doth
                   ;
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   ,
                   the
                   more
                   thou
                   art
                   deprest
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   greater
                   is
                   thy
                   growth
                   :
                
                 
                   The
                   Breasts
                   of
                   thy
                   two
                   Testaments
                   ,
                
                 
                   Like
                   Clusters
                   of
                   the
                   Vines
                   ;
                
                 
                   Are
                   full
                   of
                   Juice
                   ,
                   which
                   for
                   thy
                   use
                
                 
                   Tield
                   store
                   of
                   Heav'nly
                   Wine
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   When
                   I
                   perceiv'd
                   thy
                   Soul
                   to
                   thrive
                   ,
                
                 
                   Like
                   to
                   a
                   Fruitful
                   Tree
                   ;
                
                 
                   Then
                   I
                   drew
                   near
                   ,
                   that
                   I
                   might
                   chear
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   joy
                   my self
                   in
                   thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   Nor
                   did
                   I
                   empty-handed
                   come
                   ,
                
                 
                   But
                   added
                   to
                   thy
                   Store
                   ;
                
                 
                   God's
                   Word
                   came
                   then
                   more
                   near
                   and
                   home
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Graces
                   scented
                   more
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Speech
                   is
                   like
                   the
                   choichest
                   VVine
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   lovely
                   and
                   so
                   strong
                   ;
                
                 
                   It
                   makes
                   the
                   Sinners
                   Heart
                   divine
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   sanctifies
                   his
                   Tongue
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   dearest
                   Lords
                   Affection
                
                 
                   I
                   cannot
                   but
                   admire
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   my
                   welbeloved's
                   own
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   his
                   Hearts
                   desire
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   gladly
                   with
                   my
                   Lord
                   could
                   talk
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   spend
                   both
                   Night
                   and
                   Day
                   ;
                
                 
                   Come
                   Lord
                   ,
                   let
                   us
                   together
                   walk
                   ,
                
              
               
                 Let
                 us
                 together
                 stay
                 .
              
               
                 
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   Come
                   let
                   's
                   go
                   see
                   what
                   Fruits
                   and
                   Flowers
                
                 
                   Adorn
                   thy
                   Garden
                   place
                   ,
                
                 
                   Under
                   the
                   Sun
                   shine
                   and
                   the
                   showers
                
                 
                   Of
                   days
                   and
                   means
                   of
                   Grace
                   :
                
                 
                   Could
                   I
                   but
                   see
                   thy
                   Children
                   Spring
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   in
                   an
                   happy
                   frame
                   ;
                
                 
                   O
                   how
                   should
                   I
                   rejoyce
                   and
                   sing
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   love
                   thee
                   for
                   the
                   same
                   !
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Saints
                   their
                   Services
                   present
                   ,
                
                 
                   Which
                   of
                   Sweet
                   Savour
                   be
                   ;
                
                 
                   Saints
                   New
                   and
                   Old
                   within
                   my
                   Tent
                   ,
                
                 
                   Are
                   kept
                   from
                   Heav'n
                   and
                   thee
                   .
                
              
            
          
        
         
           
             
               The
               VERSION
               .
               CHAP.
               VIII
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   Would
                   to
                   God
                   thou
                   wert
                   as
                   near
                
                 
                   To
                   me
                   as
                   is
                   my
                   Brother
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   Fill'd
                   the
                   Lap
                   and
                   Suck'd
                   the
                   Pap
                
                 
                   Of
                   my
                   most
                   tender
                   Mother
                   :
                
                 
                   When
                   I
                   without
                   should
                   light
                   on
                   thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   Then
                   I
                   thy
                   Lips
                   would
                   Kiss
                   ;
                
                 
                   Yea
                   ,
                   I
                   should
                   not
                   despised
                   be
                   ,
                
                 
                   Nor
                   disesteem'd
                   for
                   this
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   'd
                   bring
                   thee
                   to
                   my
                   Mothers
                   Tent
                   ,
                
                 
                   Who
                   would
                   instruct
                   me
                   there
                   ;
                
                 
                   Pomegranate-Wine
                   of
                   pleasant
                   scent
                
                 
                   Should
                   be
                   thy
                   Royal
                   Fare
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   His
                   Left
                   Hand
                   underneath
                   my
                   Head
                
                 
                   Should
                   lovingly
                   be
                   plac'd
                   .
                
                 
                 
                 
                 
                 
                 
                   His
                   Right
                   Hand
                   or'e
                   me
                   should
                   be
                   spread
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thus
                   should
                   I
                   be
                   Embrac'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Ye
                   Daughters
                   of
                   Jerusalem
                   ,
                
                 
                   'T
                   is
                   You
                   I
                   charge
                   and
                   bind
                   ,
                
                 
                   Not
                   once
                   to
                   move
                   ,
                   or
                   wake
                   my
                   Love
                
                 
                   Until
                   it
                   be
                   his
                   Mind
                   .
                
              
               
                 The
                 Daughters
                 of
                 Jerusalem
                 .
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   Out
                   of
                   the
                   Desart
                   doth
                   Ascend
                
                 
                   A
                   comely
                   Sight
                   to
                   see
                   ;
                
                 
                   One
                   Leaning
                   on
                   her
                   dearest
                   Friend
                   ,
                
                 
                   O
                   what
                   a
                   One
                   is
                   She
                   !
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   Under
                   the
                   shady
                   Apple-Tree
                
                 
                   Thee
                   did
                   I
                   Raise
                   and
                   Rear
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Mother
                   Travell'd
                   there
                   with
                   Thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Native
                   Place
                   was
                   there
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   O
                   Seal
                   thine
                   Image
                   on
                   thy
                   Heart
                   ,
                
                 
                   O'Seal
                   it
                   on
                   thy
                   Arm
                   !
                
                 
                   For
                   Love
                   ,
                   like
                   Death
                   ,
                   doth
                   cast
                   its
                   Dart
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   Jealousie
                   is
                   warm
                   :
                
                 
                   'T
                   is
                   like
                   the
                   Grave
                   ,
                   whose
                   keen
                   desire
                
                 
                   Nothing
                   can
                   satisfie
                   .
                
                 
                   The
                   Coals
                   thereof
                   are
                   Coals
                   of
                   Fire
                
                 
                   That
                   flame
                   most
                   vehemently
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Waters
                   can't
                   quench
                   loves
                   flame
                   ,
                   nor
                   floods
                
                 
                   Can
                   Loves
                   height
                   overflow
                   ;
                
                 
                   If
                   one
                   for
                   Love
                   would
                   give
                   his
                   Goods
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Price
                   would
                   be
                   too
                   low
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
               
                 The
                 Jewish
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   8.
                   
                
                 
                   No
                   Breasts
                   on
                   our
                   small
                   Sister
                   grow
                   ,
                
                 
                   Nor
                   is
                   She
                   yet
                   Admir'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   What
                   shall
                   we
                   for
                   our
                   Sister
                   do
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   she
                   shall
                   be
                   desir'd
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   We
                   'll
                   build
                   on
                   her
                   a
                   Silver
                   Court
                   ,
                
                 
                   If
                   she
                   a
                   VVall
                   shall
                   be
                   ;
                
                 
                   Or
                   if
                   a
                   Door
                   ,
                   Her
                   we
                   'll
                   Support
                
                 
                   VVith
                   Boards
                   of
                   Cedar-tree
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Jewish
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   am
                   a
                   Wall
                   both
                   strong
                   and
                   tall
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Breasts
                   like
                   Towers
                   are
                   round
                   ;
                
                 
                   (
                   I
                   then
                   his
                   Sight
                   did
                   much
                   delight
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   one
                   that
                   Favour
                   Found
                   .
                   )
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   At
                   Baal-Hammon
                   ,
                   King
                   Solomon
                
                 
                   A
                   Vineyard
                   did
                   possess
                   ;
                
                 
                   Keepers
                   he
                   sent
                   to
                   the
                   Intent
                
                 
                   They
                   might
                   his
                   Vineyard
                   dress
                   :
                
                 
                   And
                   thus
                   with
                   them
                   he
                   did
                   agree
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   for
                   the
                   Fruit
                   it
                   gave
                   ,
                
                 
                   A
                   thousand
                   silver
                   Pieces
                   he
                
                 
                   Of
                   each
                   of
                   them
                   should
                   have
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Vineyard
                   which
                   belongs
                   to
                   Me
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   know
                   not
                   how
                   to
                   spare
                   ;
                
                 
                   It
                   ever
                   lies
                   before
                   mine
                   Eyes
                   ,
                
                 
                   It
                   is
                   my
                   constant
                   care
                   .
                
                 
                 
                   But
                   thou
                   ,
                   O
                   Solomon
                   ,
                   must
                   have
                
                 
                   A
                   thousand
                   for
                   thy
                   Gains
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   those
                   that
                   keep
                   its
                   Fruit
                   may
                   crave
                
                 
                   Two
                   Hundred
                   for
                   their
                   pains
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   And
                   now
                   farewel
                   thou
                   that
                   Dost
                   dwell
                
                 
                   In
                   Gardens
                   here
                   below
                   ;
                
                 
                   As
                   thy
                   Companions
                   hear
                   thy
                   Voice
                
                 
                   So
                   let
                   me
                   hear
                   it
                   too
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   Haste
                   my
                   Beloved
                   like
                   a
                   Roe
                
                 
                   Which
                   soon
                   her
                   course
                   fulfils
                   ;
                
                 
                   O
                   that
                   thou
                   wert
                   like
                   a
                   young
                   Hart
                
                 
                   Upon
                   the
                   Spicy
                   Hills
                   !
                
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               Paraphrase
               .
               CHAP.
               VIII
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   1.
                   
                
                 
                   LORD
                   that
                   thou
                   wert
                   as
                   near
                   to
                   me
                
                 
                   As
                   is
                   my
                   Mothers
                   Son
                   ;
                
                 
                   Such
                   freedom
                   should
                   I
                   have
                   with
                   thee
                   ,
                
                 
                   As
                   if
                   we
                   both
                   were
                   One
                   :
                
                 
                   I
                   would
                   impart
                   my
                   very
                   Heart
                
                 
                   To
                   one
                   that
                   was
                   so
                   near
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVhose
                   nearness
                   should
                   advance
                   my
                   Love
                
                 
                   Above
                   all
                   Slavish
                   fear
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   2.
                   
                
                 
                   Gods
                   Holy
                   Church
                   ,
                   my
                   Mother
                   Dear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Sould
                   me
                   such
                   Lectures
                   Read
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   should
                   provide
                   such
                   Heav'nly
                   Chear
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhereon
                   thou
                   lov'st
                   to
                   Feed
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   3.
                   
                
                 
                   And
                   then
                   shouldst
                   thou
                   thy
                   Love
                   display
                   ,
                
                 
                   The
                   Riches
                   of
                   thy
                   Grace
                   ,
                
                 
                 
                   Thy
                   Left
                   Hand
                   then
                   my
                   Head
                   should
                   slay
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Right
                   my
                   Heart
                   embrace
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   4.
                   
                
                 
                   Christs
                   Love
                   my
                   Heart
                   doth
                   so
                   inflame
                   ,
                
                 
                   This
                   Charge
                   I
                   needs
                   must
                   give
                   ;
                
                 
                   All
                   ye
                   that
                   own
                   his
                   Sacred
                   Name
                
                 
                   Do
                   not
                   his
                   Spirit
                   grieve
                   :
                
                 
                   Lord
                   ,
                   leave
                   us
                   not
                   ;
                   if
                   yet
                   thou
                   wilt
                
                 
                   VVith
                   Tears
                   we
                   'll
                   own
                   thy
                   Right
                   ;
                
                 
                   But
                   a
                   Departure
                   forc'd
                   by
                   Guilt
                
                 
                   Makes
                   a
                   Tempestuous
                   Night
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 VVeak
                 Christians
                 .
              
               
                 
                   5.
                   
                
                 
                   VVhat
                   strange
                   Aspiring
                   Souls
                   are
                   those
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   do
                   this
                   VVorld
                   disdain
                   ;
                
                 
                   VVho
                   on
                   their
                   Lord
                   themselves
                   repose
                   ,
                
                 
                   Heav'ns
                   Kingdom
                   to
                   obtain
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   Under
                   thine
                   Ordinances
                   Shade
                
                 
                   I
                   Sought
                   and
                   found
                   thine
                   Aid
                   ;
                
                 
                   For
                   there
                   thine
                   Entrance
                   first
                   was
                   made
                   ,
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Graces
                   first
                   Conveigh'd
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   6.
                   
                
                 
                   Lord
                   bear
                   my
                   Name
                   upon
                   thy
                   Breast
                   ,
                
                 
                   Engrave
                   it
                   on
                   thine
                   Heart
                   ;
                
                 
                   There
                   let
                   it
                   be
                   so
                   sure
                   possest
                
                 
                   It
                   thence
                   shall
                   ne're
                   depart
                   :
                
                 
                   For
                   Love
                   ,
                   like
                   Death
                   doth
                   cast
                   its
                   Dart
                   ,
                
                 
                   VVhich
                   wounds
                   me
                   to
                   the
                   quick
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   Presence
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                   supports
                   my
                   Heart
                   ;
                
                 
                   Thy
                   absence
                   makes
                   it
                   Sick.
                
                 
                 
                   Shouldst
                   thou
                   but
                   seemingly
                   disdain
                
                 
                   My
                   Heart
                   so
                   deep
                   Engag'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   should
                   be
                   Tortur'd
                   with
                   such
                   pain
                
                 
                   As
                   could
                   not
                   be
                   asswag'd
                   .
                
                 
                   O
                   Love
                   Me
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                   or
                   else
                   I
                   die
                   !
                
                 
                   Thee
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                   my
                   Love
                   doth
                   crave
                   !
                
                 
                   My
                   Lord
                   ,
                   shouldst
                   thou
                   my
                   Love
                   deny
                   ,
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   would
                   be
                   my
                   Grave
                   .
                
                 
                   My
                   Love
                   doth
                   flame
                   my
                   Jealousie
                   ,
                
                 
                   So
                   burns
                   my
                   Heart
                   and
                   Eyes
                   .
                
                 
                   I
                   must
                   embrace
                   my
                   Lord
                   ,
                   or
                   I
                
                 
                   Must
                   be
                   Loves
                   Sacrifice
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   7.
                   
                
                 
                   Whole
                   Seas
                   of
                   Trouble
                   cannot
                   quench
                
                 
                   Loves
                   everlasting
                   Fire
                   :
                
                 
                   Though
                   Hell
                   oppose
                   ,
                   whom
                   I
                   have
                   chose
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   cannot
                   but
                   Admire
                   .
                
                 
                   None
                   but
                   a
                   Christ
                   ,
                   none
                   but
                   my
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   No
                   Brides
                   can
                   take
                   with
                   Me
                   ;
                
                 
                   A
                   proffer'd
                   World
                   would
                   be
                   abhorr'd
                   ;
                
                 
                   A
                   Christ
                   ,
                   and
                   none
                   but
                   He
                   !
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Jewish
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   8
                   ,
                
                 
                   Remember
                   the
                   Blind
                   Nations
                   ,
                   Lord
                   ,
                
                 
                   Who
                   in
                   a
                   Dungeon
                   grope
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   lack
                   the
                   Sun-shine
                   of
                   thy
                   Word
                   ,
                
                 
                   Yet
                   Prisn'rs
                   are
                   of
                   Hope
                   .
                
                 
                   When
                   once
                   the
                   Hour
                   of
                   thy
                   Design
                
                 
                   Hath
                   on
                   these
                   Captives
                   Shone
                   ,
                
                 
                   When
                   they
                   are
                   call'd
                   and
                   own'd
                   for
                   Thine
                   ,
                
                 
                   What
                   shall
                   be
                   further
                   done
                   ?
                
              
            
             
               
               
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 
                   9.
                   
                
                 
                   If
                   they
                   be
                   constant
                   to
                   my
                   Name
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   firmly
                   hold
                   my
                   VVord
                   ;
                
                 
                   They
                   shall
                   be
                   blest
                   with
                   strength
                   and
                   fame
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   honour'd
                   by
                   their
                   Lord
                   :
                
                 
                   If
                   they
                   will
                   open
                   at
                   my
                   Call
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   I
                   with
                   them
                   may
                   dwell
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   'll
                   hold
                   them
                   fast
                   ,
                   and
                   make
                   them
                   last
                
                 
                   Against
                   the
                   Gates
                   of
                   Hell.
                   
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Jewish
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   10.
                   
                
                 
                   Lord
                   ,
                   I
                   am
                   constant
                   to
                   thy
                   Name
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   firmly
                   hold
                   thy
                   Word
                   ;
                
                 
                   (
                   I
                   had
                   a
                   Smile
                   upon
                   the
                   same
                
                 
                   From
                   my
                   most
                   Gracious
                   Lord.
                   )
                
              
            
             
               
                 Christ.
                 
              
               
                 
                   11.
                   
                
                 
                   I
                   nor
                   admire
                   nor
                   imitate
                
                 
                   Those
                   who
                   their
                   Vineyards
                   Let
                   ;
                
                 
                   Who
                   of
                   their
                   Profit
                   do
                   abate
                   ,
                
                 
                   That
                   they
                   some
                   Ease
                   may
                   get
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                   12.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Church
                   and
                   Vineyard
                   is
                   alway
                
                 
                   My
                   care
                   and
                   my
                   Delight
                   ;
                
                 
                   I
                   my self
                   keep
                   it
                   every
                   Day
                   ,
                
                 
                   And
                   watch
                   it
                   every
                   Night
                   :
                
                 
                   Drest
                   by
                   my
                   Hand
                   ,
                   watch'd
                   by
                   my
                   Eye
                   ,
                
                 
                   Its
                   Fruit
                   to
                   me
                   abounds
                   ;
                
                 
                   The
                   Praise
                   of
                   its
                   Fertility
                
                 
                   Wholly
                   to
                   me
                   redounds
                   .
                
              
               
                 
                 
                   13.
                   
                
                 
                   My
                   Dearest
                   Church
                   ,
                   who
                   art
                   compos'd
                
                 
                   Of
                   divers
                   companies
                   ;
                
                 
                   Now
                   we
                   have
                   both
                   our
                   Minds
                   disclos'd
                   ,
                
                 
                   I
                   'll
                   end
                   with
                   this
                   Advice
                   :
                
                 
                   As
                   all
                   thy
                   Members
                   give
                   an
                   Ear
                
                 
                   Vnto
                   thy
                   Gracious
                   Strain
                   ;
                
                 
                   So
                   let
                   Me
                   often
                   from
                   thee
                   hear
                   ,
                
                 
                   Vntil
                   we
                   Meet
                   again
                   .
                
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Church
                 .
              
               
                 
                   14.
                   
                
                 
                   Ah
                   my
                   dear
                   Saviour
                   !
                   pity
                   Me
                   ,
                
                 
                   Preserve
                   Me
                   in
                   thy
                   Heart
                   ;
                
                 
                   And
                   Oh
                   make
                   hast
                   ,
                   make
                   hast
                   ,
                   that
                   we
                
                 
                   May
                   Meet
                   and
                   never
                   part
                   .
                
              
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
           DIVES
           AND
           LAZARUS
           .
        
         
           
             IN
             
             Judah's
             Vale
             a
             Man
             of
             Wealth
             abode
             ,
          
           
             Vile
             as
             a
             Beast
             ,
             yet
             Worship'd
             as
             a
             God
             ;
          
           
             Who
             Tyrian
             Cloaths
             ,
             and
             Egypts
             Linnen-ware
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             whose
             Table
             met
             Land
             ,
             Sea
             and
             Air.
             
          
        
         
           
             Beneath
             the
             Threshold
             of
             his
             Out-most
             Gate
          
           
             A
             pale
             ,
             deformed
             ,
             horrid
             Carcass
             Sate
             :
          
           
             Another
             Job
             .
             But
             of
             more
             Fixed
             Woes
             ,
          
           
             Who
             from
             his
             Dunghil
             never
             once
             arose
             .
          
        
         
           
             *
             
               God
               Help
               Me
            
             was
             his
             Name
             .
             God
             was
             his
             all
             ,
          
           
             Those
             few
             that
             knew
             him
             ,
             Lazarus
             him
             did
             call
             .
          
        
         
           
             Need
             ,
             Pain
             and
             Scorn
             at
             once
             did
             on
             him
             lie
             ;
          
           
             His
             Bed
             was
             Earth
             ,
             his
             Covering
             was
             the
             Sky
             :
          
           
             Nothing
             had
             he
             to
             pay
             of
             Natures
             Scores
             ;
          
           
             Empty
             he
             was
             of
             Bread
             ,
             but
             full
             of
             Sores
             .
          
        
         
           
             Hunger
             (
             that
             Wrack
             )
             will
             make
             a
             Man
             confess
             ,
          
           
             What
             modest
             Minds
             endeavour
             to
             oppress
             :
          
           
             Sharp
             Hunger
             whets
             the
             Wit
             ,
             and
             mends
             its
             strain
             ,
          
           
             It
             hurts
             the
             Bowels
             ,
             but
             it
             helps
             the
             Brain
             .
          
           
           
             A
             Servant
             pass'd
             the
             Gate
             ,
             where
             ,
             lo
             !
             he
             found
          
           
             This
             Ruful
             Odject
             groveling
             on
             the
             Ground
             .
          
           
             Said
             
               Lazarus
               ,
               Sir
               ,
               if
               Pity
               be
               my
               due
               ,
            
          
           
             Give
             to
             your
             Master
             what
             I
             give
             to
             you
             .
          
        
         
           
             Lazarus
             his
             Petition
             .
          
           
             
               MOst
               Noble
               Sir
               ,
               I
               humbly
               crave
            
             
               What
               Nature
               doth
               exact
               from
               Me
               ;
            
             
               I
               am
               a
               Borderer
               on
               the
               Grave
               ,
            
             
               Half
               slain
               with
               sharp
               Necessity
               .
            
          
           
             
               For
               Childrens
               Bread
               I
               do
               not
               Call
               ;
            
             
               I
               do
               not
               Ask
               you
               Servants
               Fare
               ;
            
             
               Only
               the
               Sweepings
               of
               your
               Hall
            
             
               I
               Beg
               ;
               and
               what
               your
               Dogs
               may
               spare
               .
            
          
           
             
               Doom
               Me
               not
               ,
               Sir
               ,
               to
               perish
               at
               your
               Gate
               ,
            
             
               Who
               may
               Preserve
               Me
               ,
               at
               so
               Cheap
               a
               Rate
               ;
            
             
               For
               Father
               Judah's
               sake
               some
               Fragments
               give
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               serve
               You
               at
               God's
               Altars
               whilst
               I
               live
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Dives
             his
             Answer
             .
          
           
             
               
                 WHat
                 Dog
                 is
                 this
                 that
                 dares
                 Presume
                 on
                 Me
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 Accurst
                 be
                 all
                 such
                 Crawling
                 Toads
                 as
                 He
              
               ;
            
             
               Pests
               
                 of
                 my
                 Gate
              
               ,
               Vermin
               
                 that
                 Creep
                 so
                 Nigh
              
            
             
               —
               
                 I
                 Hate
                 'em
                 ;
                 Let
                 Him
                 Rot
                 and
                 Die.
                 
              
            
          
           
             
               In
               vain
               the
               poor
               Mans
               thoughts
               pursu'd
               his
               Suit
               ;
            
             
               The
               Dogs
               were
               humane
               ,
               but
               their
               Lord
               a
               Brute
               ;
            
             
               They
               left
               their
               Snarling
               to
               their
               Masters
               Face
               ;
            
             
               They
               Ran
               ,
               and
               Lazarus
               gently
               did
               embrace
               .
            
             
             
               He
               was
               the
               pity'd
               Patient
               of
               those
               Hounds
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               lambent
               Tongues
               did
               cool
               his
               burning
               wounds
               .
            
          
           
             
               This
               done
               ,
               the
               squalid
               Vassals
               of
               the
               Times
            
             
               Scorn'd
               ragged
               Virtue
               ,
               Honour'd
               purple
               Crimes
               :
            
             
               Things
               are
               mis-judged
               by
               the
               purblind
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               Which
               views
               their
               Posture
               ,
               not
               their
               tendency
               :
            
             
               Till
               Justice
               '
               wakes
               to
               right
               its
               injur'd
               Laws
               ,
            
             
               Which
               doth
               not
               weigh
               the
               Person
               ,
               but
               the
               Cause
               .
            
          
           
             
               Nor
               Rags
               ,
               nor
               Sores
               ,
               are
               Clouds
               that
               can
               disguise
            
             
               A
               splendid
               Soul
               to
               Heavens
               Soul-searching
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               Earths
               Laz'rus
               was
               Heavens
               Dives
               ;
               Earths
               disdain
            
             
               Was
               a
               meet
               Guest
               for
               Heaven
               to
               entertain
               :
            
             
               Now
               comes
               the
               Golden
               Hour
               that
               sets
               him
               free
            
             
               From
               his
               Apprenticeship
               to
               misery
               :
            
             
               His
               Corps
               (
               the
               Graves
               old
               Neighbour
               )
               long
               Uddrest
               ,
            
             
               At
               length
               is
               slip
               into
               its
               Bed
               of
               Rest
               :
            
             
               A
               Treasure
               't
               is
               ,
               tho'
               Funeral-costs
               it
               wants
               ;
            
             
               The
               Richest
               Mineral
               is
               the
               Dust
               of
               Saints
               ;
            
             
               He
               was
               his
               own
               (
               most
               serious
               )
               Mourner
               here
               ;
            
             
               He
               Mourn'd
               enough
               ;
               He
               needs
               no
               Hired
               Tear.
               
            
          
           
             
               The
               time
               is
               come
               ,
               that
               Lazarus
               must
               be
               clad
            
             
               With
               such
               fine
               Linnen
               ,
               Dives
               never
               had
               :
            
             
               The
               time
               is
               come
               ,
               that
               Lazarus
               must
               be
               Fed
            
             
               With
               Heavens
               rich
               Juices
               ,
               and
               with
               Angels
               Bread.
               
            
          
           
             
               There
               is
               a
               Table
               richly
               Spread
               above
               ,
            
             
               There
               is
               an
               Everlasting
               Feast
               of
               Love
               ;
            
             
               A
               Feast
               which
               Friends
               and
               Friendship
               doth
               mantain
               ,
            
             
               Pale
               Envy
               is
               not
               there
               ,
               nor
               proud
               disdain
               ;
            
             
               They
               all
               are
               One
               ;
               In
               One
               they
               all
               agree
               ,
            
             
               One
               is
               there
               all
               ,
               which
               makes
               all
               one
               to
               be
               ;
            
             
             
               Here
               's
               Height
               of
               Mirth
               ,
               with
               Depth
               of
               Seriousness
               ,
            
             
               Plenty
               without
               the
               Hazard
               of
               Excess
               ;
            
             
               Here
               are
               full
               Joys
               in
               Hand
               ,
               full
               Joys
               in
               View
               ,
            
             
               Here
               Wine
               and
               Appetite
               are
               ever
               new
               :
            
             
               Ever
               begins
               their
               Feast
               and
               n're
               do
               end
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               growing
               Loaves
               and
               Living
               Springs
               attend
               ;
            
             
               Their
               Harps
               are
               well-strung
               Hearts
               ,
               well-tuned
            
             
               And
               Sacred
               Hallelujahs
               are
               their
               Songs
               ;
               (
               Tongues
               )
            
             
               Here
               sit
               the
               Saints
               ,
               Here
               the
               Believers
               Sire
               ,
            
             
               Is
               Nobly
               Seated
               in
               his
               Rich
               Attire
               ;
            
             
               Hither
               the
               King
               of
               Heaven
               new
               Guests
               doth
               call
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               can
               he
               come
               too
               late
               that
               comes
               at
               all
               .
            
          
           
             
               The
               mighty
               One
               who
               dwells
               and
               rules
               on
               High
               ,
            
             
               Angels
               attend
               with
               an
               obedient
               Eye
               :
            
             
               The
               Secrets
               of
               his
               Breasts
               they
               do
               not
               Skill
               ,
            
             
               But
               are
               the
               trusty
               Servants
               of
               his
               Will.
            
             
               Thus
               charg'd
               he
               them
               ,
               '
               Bring
               Lazarus
               
                 to
                 the
                 Feast
              
               ,
            
             
               '
               And
               let
               him
               take
               his
               Place
               next
               
               Abraham's
               Breast
               .
            
             
               They
               heard
               with
               Rev'rence
               ,
               and
               obey'd
               their
               King
               ,
            
             
               Joy
               rais'd
               their
               Hearts
               ,
               &
               nimbly
               shook
               their
               Wing
               .
            
             
               They
               fled
               from
               Heaven
               ,
               yet
               Heaven
               was
               with
               them
               still
               ,
            
             
               It
               was
               their
               Heaven
               to
               do
               their
               Masters
               Will.
            
             
               They
               stopt
               not
               at
               the
               Stars
               (
               that
               pompous
               show
               )
            
             
               Who
               went
               to
               view
               a
               Brighter
               Star
               below
               :
            
             
               The
               Point
               design'd
               they
               well
               did
               understand
               ,
            
             
               Who
               had
               old
               Voyagers
               been
               to
               Canaans
               Land.
            
             
               There
               they
               had
               been
               Lots
               Guests
               (
               who
               was
               their
            
             
               There
               had
               they
               been
               
               Elisha's
               flaming
               Guard.
               (
               Ward
               )
            
             
               In
               that
               Land
               chiefly
               lay
               their
               Lords
               Affairs
               (
               Wares
               )
            
             
               They
               traffiqu'd
               there
               for
               Souls
               (
               those
               precious
            
          
           
             
               Soon
               came
               they
               where
               Sick
               Lazarus
               had
               his
               Lare
               ,
            
             
               They
               stop'd
               and
               waited
               for
               their
               Passenger
               .
            
             
             
               No
               visitant
               found
               they
               with
               him
               ,
               but
               the
               Lord
               ;
            
             
               No
               Nurse
               ,
               but
               Faith
               ;
               no
               Cordial
               ,
               but
               the
               Word
               .
            
             
               They
               heard
               him
               praying
               ,
               
                 '
                 Lord
                 ,
                 some
                 Mercy
                 Show
                 ,
              
            
             
               '
               For
               I
               can
               find
               no
               mercy
               here
               below
               .
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               he
               sigh'd
               ,
               and
               was
               of
               Life
               bereav'd
               ;
            
             
               He
               gave
               his
               Soul
               ,
               and
               they
               his
               Soul
               receiv'd
               ,
            
             
               With
               Shouts
               and
               Songs
               triumphant
               up
               they
               went
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               the
               Company
               did
               him
               present
               ;
            
             
               They
               shouted
               all
               ,
               and
               joy'd
               the
               New
               come
               Guest
               ,
            
             
               How
               gently
               stoops
               and
               leans
               on
               Abrahams
               Breast●
            
          
           
             
               Whom
               Dives
               Curs'd
               and
               stately
               Fools
               disdain'd
               ,
            
             
               How
               is
               he
               Blest
               !
               how
               is
               he
               Entertain'd
               !
            
             
               Tho'
               Vertue
               here
               on
               Earth
               neglected
               lies
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               Heaven
               will
               raise
               it
               ,
               for
               't
               is
               born
               to
               rise
               .
            
             
               Dives
               ,
               that
               silken
               God
               ,
               must
               never
               dye
            
             
               Unless
               his
               Creatures
               and
               false
               Prophets
               lye
               .
            
             
               He
               's
               safe
               ,
               if
               Death
               be
               cast
               as
               far
               behind
            
             
               His
               Body
               ,
               as
               it
               is
               below
               his
               Mind
               .
            
             
               He
               's
               always
               young
               ;
               He
               learns
               it
               from
               his
               Glass
               ,
            
             
               Which
               smooths
               his
               furrow'd
               Brow
               and
               paints
               his
               face
               .
            
             
               But
               a
               Cold
               striking
               hand
               consutes
               the
               Lie.
            
             
               Down
               falls
               his
               Flattering
               Glass
               ,
               his
               Fancies
               dye
               ;
            
             
               His
               Garden-walks
               must
               him
               no
               longer
               know
               ,
            
             
               The
               Life-tree
               in
               his
               Garden
               doth
               not
               grow
               :
            
             
               His
               Palace
               must
               be
               chang'd
               for
               a
               dark
               Tomb
               ,
            
             
               That
               was
               his
               Inn
               ,
               but
               this
               must
               be
               his
               Home
               ;
            
             
               He
               must
               no
               longer
               at
               his
               Table
               stay
               ,
            
             
               The
               Voider
               (
               Death
               )
               is
               come
               to
               take
               away
               :
            
             
               Death
               ,
               that
               abhorr'd
               (
               both
               Name
               and
               ,
               )
               thing
               comes
               on
               ▪
            
             
               And
               potently
               torments
               this
               Potent
               One
               ;
            
             
               It
               makes
               Amazing
               Breaches
               ,
               and
               in
               short
               ,
            
             
               Hath
               seiz'd
               the
               Out-works
               ,
               and
               attacks
               the
               Fort
               :
            
             
               In
               what
               a
               wretched
               Posture
               doth
               he
               lye
               !
            
             
               He
               cannot
               live
               ,
               and
               yet
               he
               dares
               not
               dye
               .
            
             
             
               His
               Debt
               must
               be
               distrain'd
               ;
               for
               he
               'll
               not
               pay
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               yield
               his
               Ghost
               ;
               it
               must
               be
               fetcht
               away
               ;
            
             
               He
               sprunts
               ,
               he
               struggles
               ,
               but
               Death
               keeps
               him
               under
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               one
               stroke
               tears
               Flesh
               and
               Soul
               asunder
               ;
            
             
               Then
               rang
               the
               House
               with
               his
               five
               Brethrens
               Cries
               ,
            
             
               Alas
               !
               our
               Brother
               ;
               so
               they
               clos'd
               his
               Eyes
               .
            
             
               His
               outward
               parts
               are
               wash'd
               ,
               his
               inner
               Rooms
            
             
               Stuffed
               with
               Arabian
               Sweets
               and
               rich
               Perfumes
               .
            
             
               Now
               Death
               his
               Purple
               is
               ,
               now
               he
               's
               allow'd
            
             
               Fine
               Linnen
               too
               ,
               but
               't
               is
               a
               Fun'ral
               Shrowd
               ;
            
             
               Grave-fac'd
               Spectators
               with
               their
               Garments
               torn
               ,
            
             
               And
               Shrouded
               Lips
               attend
               ,
               the
               Room
               doth
               mourn
               .
            
             
               Ah
               what
               a
               poor
               Revenge
               is
               this
               on
               Fate
               !
            
             
               For
               him
               that
               cannot
               live
               ,
               to
               Lie
               in
               State.
            
             
               Amidst
               the
               Gazing
               Crowd
               the
               Bearers
               come
               ,
            
             
               With
               Pomp
               they
               bring
               him
               to
               his
               painted
               Tomb.
            
             
               Minstrels
               and
               Trumpeters
               their
               Noises
               joyn
               ,
            
             
               And
               Women
               sell
               false
               Tears
               for
               Currant
               Coyn.
            
             
               Now
               lest
               his
               Friends
               should
               in
               salt
               streams
               be
               drown'd
            
             
               The
               Cup
               of
               Consolation
               goes
               its
               Round
               .
            
             
               But
               stay
               ,
               my
               Soul
               ;
               't
               is
               Death
               that
               thou
               must
               view
               ,
            
             
               Not
               shadows
               which
               dead
               Bodies
               do
               Ensue
               .
            
          
           
             
               What
               a
               dark
               Notion
               and
               Abstrusity
               ,
            
             
               Is
               this
               to
               living
               Men
               ,
               that
               they
               must
               die
               !
            
             
               Grim
               Death
               on
               his
               pale
               Horse
               Triumphant
               Rides
               ,
            
             
               He
               strikes
               us
               through
               our
               nearest
               Kinsmans
               Sides
               :
            
             
               Yet
               are
               we
               sensless
               ,
               as
               the
               stupid
               Mule
               ,
            
             
               Live
               as
               Exceptions
               from
               the
               Common
               Rule
               ;
            
             
               We
               cast
               a
               Cloth
               o're
               Death
               ;
               't
               is
               soon
               forgot
               ,
            
             
               We
               charm
               the
               Serpent
               ,
               and
               it
               stings
               us
               not
               .
            
          
           
             
               Now
               might
               one
               let
               this
               pleasant
               Error
               pass
               ,
            
             
               If
               Death
               was
               all
               ,
               but
               Death
               his
               Second
               has
               ,
            
             
             
               When
               once
               the
               Dissolution
               Hour
               is
               come
               ,
            
             
               Out
               goes
               the
               Soul
               to
               hear
               her
               Final
               Doom
               .
            
          
           
             
               You
               who
               have
               slightly
               heard
               the
               Fun'ral
               Knell
               ,
            
             
               Now
               hear
               the
               Voice
               which
               dooms
               the
               Ghost
               to
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               For
               those
               whose
               hearts
               an
               Earthquake
               will
               not
               shake
               ,
            
             
               Thro'
               Heav'ns
               Loud-roaring
               Cannons
               may
               awake
               .
            
          
           
             
               Dives
               black
               Ghost
               (
               all
               Horrour
               and
               Despair
               )
            
             
               Is
               from
               its
               Prison
               snatch'd
               to
               th'
               dismal
               Bar
               ;
            
             
               Behind
               him
               the
               impatient
               Devils
               roar
               .
            
             
               His
               Sins
               (
               those
               worst
               of
               Devils
               )
               stand
               before
               ;
            
             
               With
               Terrors
               thus
               besieg'd
               in
               every
               place
               ,
            
             
               He
               hears
               a
               Voice
               ,
               but
               might
               not
               see
               the
               Face
               .
            
             
               The
               Voice
               was
               roaring
               Thunder
               in
               his
               Ears
               ,
            
             
               The
               words
               were
               tearing
               Bolts
               and
               flaming
               Spears
               ;
            
             
               
                 "
                 Go
                 thou
                 accurst
                 ,
                 vile
                 Caitif
                 ,
                 hence
                 away
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 To
                 damned
                 Ghosts
                 ,
                 Come
                 Devils
                 ,
                 take
                 your
                 prey
                 .
              
            
             
               Struck
               with
               this
               Thunder
               ,
               down
               he
               sunk
               ,
               he
               fell
               ,
            
             
               And
               was
               a
               Triumph
               to
               the
               Fiends
               of
               Hell.
            
             
               Th'
               ingenious
               Tyrants
               did
               a
               Council
               pack
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Malice
               set
               their
               Wits
               upon
               the
               Wrack
               :
            
             
               When
               they
               had
               joyntly
               study'd
               to
               Torment
               ,
            
             
               For
               their
               pale
               Prisoner
               then
               in
               haste
               they
               sent
               ;
            
             
               They
               chain'd
               and
               stak'd
               him
               to
               a
               furious
               Flame
               ,
            
             
               Where
               constant
               streams
               of
               Brimstone
               feed
               the
               ●ame
               ,
            
             
               Behold
               Sins
               Martyr
               ,
               and
               Hells
               Sacrifice
               !
            
             
               He
               yells
               and
               howls
               ,
               and
               vents
               unpity'd
               Cries
               .
            
             
               He
               finds
               no
               Friendly
               Ear
               ,
               or
               tender
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               He
               feells
               a
               thousand
               deaths
               ,
               but
               cannot
               die
               :
            
             
               Like
               burning
               Brass
               he
               's
               Fir'd
               in
               every
               part
               ,
            
             
               A
               Vultur
               lives
               upon
               his
               living
               Heart
               .
            
             
               God's
               gone
               ,
               he
               's
               gone
               ,
               and
               what
               an
               Hell
               is
               this
               ,
            
             
               To
               be
               depriv'd
               of
               everlasting
               Bliss
               !
            
             
             
               O
               this
               Eternal
               Banishment
               is
               worse
            
             
               Than
               all
               the
               Remnant
               of
               the
               Dooms-day
               Curse
               .
            
             
               This
               Hell
               of
               Hell
               may
               thus
               be
               understood
               ,
            
             
               No
               torments
               are
               so
               bad
               as
               God
               is
               good
               .
            
             
               Besides
               ,
               an
               Appetite
               in
               Man
               doth
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Which
               nothing
               but
               a
               God
               can
               satisfie
               ;
            
             
               And
               tho'
               this
               Appetite
               be
               here
               deluded
            
             
               By
               various
               Objects
               ,
               in
               God's
               room
               obtruded
               .
            
             
               Yet
               when
               at
               death
               all
               these
               are
               laid
               aside
               ,
            
             
               Then
               thirsts
               the
               Soul
               for
               God
               ,
               but
               is
               deny'd
               ;
            
             
               This
               Thirst
               unquench'd
               is
               such
               an
               inward
               Flame
               ,
            
             
               An
               Hell
               in
               Hell
               is
               its
               deserved
               Name
               ;
            
             
               In
               Hell
               there
               cannot
               be
               an
               Atheist
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               Hell
               in
               Hell
               that
               God
               is
               dearly
               mist
               .
            
          
           
             
               Poor
               Dives
               cries
               ,
               
                 The
                 God
                 for
                 whom
                 I
                 starve
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 I
                 cannot
                 see
                 ,
                 because
                 I
                 would
                 not
                 serve
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 I
                 Bleed
                 to
                 think
                 ,
                 (
                 and
                 thinking
                 is
                 my
                 Fate
                 )
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 He
                 often
                 knocked
                 at
                 my
                 Bolted
                 Gate
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Where
                 are
                 those
                 Baits
                 on
                 which
                 my
                 Lusts
                 did
                 prey
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 The
                 Price
                 of
                 which
                 I
                 cast
                 my self
                 away
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Where
                 's
                 now
                 my
                 Pomp
                 and
                 Pride
                 ,
                 my
                 Feasts
                 &
                 Sports
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Whose
                 Chains
                 detain'd
                 me
                 from
                 the
                 Sacred
                 Courts
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 O
                 did
                 my
                 House
                 so
                 near
                 the
                 Temple
                 stand
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 O
                 did
                 I
                 perish
                 out
                 of
                 Judahs
                 Land
                 !
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Might
                 I
                 be
                 try'd
                 once
                 more
                 !
                 But
                 't
                 is
                 too
                 late
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Justice
                 hath
                 lock'd
                 the
                 Golden
                 Mercy-Gate
                 :
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Now
                 I
                 believe
                 ,
                 and
                 tremble
                 :
                 I
                 repent
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 But
                 my
                 Repentance
                 is
                 my
                 Punishment
                 :
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 It
                 is
                 not
                 Virtue
                 ,
                 but
                 Necessity
              
               ;
            
             
               
                 "
                 Alas
                 ,
                 how
                 miserable
                 wise
                 am
                 I
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Might
                 I
                 return
                 now
                 to
                 that
                 happy
                 Night
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Which
                 veil'd
                 me
                 er'e
                 my
                 Parents
                 saw
                 the
                 Light
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Ah
                 me
                 !
                 must
                 I
                 lie
                 here
                 !
                 and
                 ne're
                 come
                 out
                 ,
              
            
             
               He
               raves
               and
               flings
               his
               curses
               round
               about
               .
            
             
             
               He
               curs'd
               both
               Heaven
               &
               Hell
               ,
               he
               curs'd
               the
               Earth
               ,
            
             
               He
               curs'd
               the
               Day
               that
               witness'd
               to
               his
               Birth
               :
            
             
               But
               neither
               can
               his
               tears
               his
               Griefs
               asswage
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               does
               it
               cool
               his
               Heart
               to
               vent
               his
               Rage
               .
            
             
               This
               Keen
               Reflection
               makes
               the
               Furnace
               Glow
               .
            
             
               
                 "
                 It
                 must
                 be
                 ever
                 with
                 me
                 as
                 't
                 is
                 now
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Hells
                 Flames
                 no
                 Ashes
                 will
                 produce
                 :
                 But
                 I
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Must
                 ever
                 Dying
                 Live
                 ,
                 and
                 Living
                 Die.
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Souls
                 for
                 themselves
                 the
                 Balm
                 of
                 Patience
                 bear
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 'T
                 is
                 the
                 Poors
                 Physick
                 ,
                 but
                 it
                 grows
                 not
                 here
              
               ;
            
             
               
                 "
                 My
                 Soul
                 is
                 filled
                 with
                 Home-bred
                 tears
                 and
                 taunts
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 'T
                 is
                 its
                 own
                 Fury
                 ,
                 and
                 it self
                 it
                 haunts
                 :
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Pity
                 was
                 wont
                 in
                 Miseries
                 House
                 to
                 dwell
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 But
                 I
                 am
                 haled
                 by
                 the
                 Hounds
                 of
                 hell
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Time
                 us'd
                 to
                 be
                 a
                 Surgeon
                 good
                 at
                 wounds
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 But
                 I
                 am
                 got
                 beyond
                 its
                 happy
                 Bounds
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 A
                 Vessel
                 charg'd
                 with
                 scalding
                 wrath
                 am
                 I
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Hoop'd
                 in
                 the
                 Circle
                 of
                 Eternity
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               You
               who
               affect
               the
               pleasant
               Path
               to
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               And
               love
               Damnation
               in
               its
               Causes
               well
               ,
            
             
               Look
               streight
               before
               you
               on
               your
               Journeys
               End
               ,
            
             
               Do
               ye
               not
               see
               th'
               infernal
               smoak
               ascend
               ?
            
             
               Have
               not
               some
               sparks
               into
               your
               Bosoms
               Flown
               ,
            
             
               Wh'reby
               the
               Neighb'ring
               Coasts
               may
               well
               be
               known
               .
            
             
               Bold
               sinner
               ,
               stop
               ,
               no
               further
               progress
               make
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               your
               next
               step
               be
               in
               the
               Fiery
               Lake
               ;
            
             
               But
               ,
               Oh!
               He
               ridicules
               his
               souls
               affairs
               ,
            
             
               And
               labours
               to
               be
               damn'd
               at
               unawares
               .
            
             
               His
               Humour
               will
               not
               bear
               a
               Countermand
               ,
            
             
               Alas
               for
               them
               who
               hate
               to
               understand
               !
            
             
               Who
               on
               their
               souls
               Experiments
               will
               try
               ,
            
             
               At
               the
               Charge
               of
               a
               sad
               Eternity
               .
            
             
               Alas
               for
               them
               who
               never
               will
               awake
               ,
            
             
               Till
               they
               are
               plung'd
               into
               the
               burning
               Lake
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               Dives
               was
               hear
               struck
               blind
               with
               flatt'ring
               Lies
               ,
            
             
               Now
               the
               Hell
               brand
               lifts
               up
               his
               flaming
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               He
               spies
               the
               Region
               where
               the
               happy
               dwell
               ,
            
             
               But
               Heaven
               at
               distance
               is
               another
               Hell
               :
            
             
               He
               spies
               a
               Canaans
               Feast
               ,
               for
               chiefly
               there
               ,
            
             
               The
               Natives
               of
               his
               Countrey
               do
               appear
               ;
            
             
               He
               spies
               Blest
               Abraham
               with
               his
               faithful
               Race
               ,
            
             
               And
               Lazarus
               sitting
               next
               to
               Abrahams
               place
               .
            
             
               Oh!
               how
               it
               twinges
               and
               torments
               his
               Eyes
               ?
            
             
               His
               scorn
               to
               Envy
               turns
               ,
               and
               thus
               he
               cries
               ,
            
             
               
                 "
                 This
                 Scoundrel
                 who
                 lay
                 Starving
                 at
                 my
                 Gate
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Is
                 now
                 a
                 Peer
                 in
                 Heaven
                 ,
                 an
                 Angels
                 Mate
              
               ;
            
             
               
                 "
                 The
                 Beggar
                 sits
                 and
                 feeds
                 on
                 Angels
                 Fare
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 His
                 Rags
                 are
                 Robes
                 ,
                 such
                 as
                 Heavens
                 Nobles
                 wear
                 :
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 The
                 Dog
                 ,
                 whom
                 in
                 derision
                 once
                 I
                 had
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Is
                 turned
                 into
                 a
                 Star
                 ,
                 which
                 makes
                 me
                 Mad.
                 
              
            
          
           
             
               Now
               Dives
               is
               the
               Beggar
               ,
               and
               applies
            
             
               Himself
               to
               Abraham
               with
               his
               Mournful
               Cries
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Dives
             his
             Petition
             .
          
           
             
               AH
               Father
               Abraham
               ,
               Pity
               me
               ,
            
             
               Who
               with
               tormenting
               Flames
               am
               Stung
               ,
            
             
               For
               pity
               whither
               should
               I
               Flee
            
             
               But
               to
               the
               Bowels
               whence
               I
               Sprung
               ?
            
          
           
             
               The
               Grapes
               Rich
               Blood
               I
               do
               not
               Crave
               ,
            
             
               vvaters
               Cheap
               Element
               will
               Suffice
               ;
            
             
               And
               tho'
               my
               Tongue
               thirsts
               for
               a
               vvave
               ,
            
             
               For
               one
               poor
               drop
               it
               only
               Cries
               .
            
          
           
             
               By
               
               Lazarus
               ●●oist'ned
               Finger
               may
               you
               please
            
             
               To
               give
               my
               scorched
               tongue
               one
               Moments
               Ease
               .
            
             
             
               I
               dwell
               in
               Flames
               ,
               and
               Flames
               in
               Me
               do
               dwell
               ,
            
             
               O
               for
               a
               Drop
               from
               Heaven
               to
               sweeten
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               Mark
               how
               the
               Wheel
               is
               turn'd
               ,
               the
               time
               is
               come
               ,
            
             
               He
               begs
               a
               Drop
               who
               once
               deny'd
               a
               Crumb
               .
            
             
               Right-thinking
               Judges
               then
               must
               needs
               approve
               .
            
             
               The
               tart
               and
               equal
               Answer
               from
               above
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Abraham's
             Answer
             .
          
           
             
               ARt
               thou
               forlorn
               of
               God
               ,
               and
               com'st
               to
               me
               ?
            
             
               What
               can
               I
               tell
               thee
               then
               but
               Misery
               ?
            
             
               Remember
               ,
               Son
               ,
               the
               Heav'n
               thy
               Feet
               have
               trod
               ,
            
             
               Earth
               was
               thy
               Heav'n
               ,
               and
               Pleasure
               was
               thy
               God.
            
             
               Remember
               Lazarus
               had
               his
               Hell
               below
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               wert
               the
               Devil
               which
               did
               cause
               his
               woe
               ;
            
             
               Now
               are
               his
               rags
               Heav'ns
               robes
               with
               glorious
               Beams
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Purple
               ,
               Flames
               ,
               thy
               Juncats
               ,
               Sulphrous
               Streams
               .
            
          
           
             
               Is
               he
               thy
               Wish
               who
               was
               thy
               Scorn
               before
               ?
            
             
               Shall
               Lazarus
               now
               be
               welcome
               to
               thy
               door
               ?
            
             
               And
               dost
               imagine
               some
               fair
               Bridge
               to
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Betwixt
               the
               White
               and
               Black-Eternity
               ?
            
             
               No
               there
               's
               a
               mighty
               Gulf
               which
               rends
               in
               twain
               ,
            
             
               The
               Fiery
               Region
               and
               the
               Aetherial
               Plain
               .
            
             
               We
               are
               too
               happy
               to
               be
               dispossest
               ,
            
             
               And
               you
               so
               cursed
               you
               can
               ner'e
               be
               blest
               ;
            
             
               We
               are
               so
               rais'd
               ,
               that
               we
               can
               never
               fall
               ,
            
             
               And
               you
               so
               sunk
               ,
               you
               cannot
               rise
               at
               all
               .
            
             
               Once
               Angels
               went
               from
               Heaven
               to
               Hell
               ;
               but
               first
            
             
               They
               blackned
               were
               to
               Devils
               ,
               and
               accurst
               ;
            
             
               Since
               those
               Stars
               fell
               none
               of
               the
               heav'nly
               hosts
               ,
            
             
               Or
               did
               or
               shall
               visit
               th'
               infernal
               Coasts
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               To
               yon
               't
               is
               bitter
               ,
               but
               to
               us
               't
               is
               sweet
               ,
            
             
               That
               we
               are
               parted
               and
               must
               never
               meet
               ;
            
             
               Heav'n
               were
               not
               Heav'n
               ,
               if
               it
               near
               Hell
               was
               plac't
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               Hell
               were
               Hell
               ,
               if
               it
               of
               Heaven
               might
               taste
               .
            
             
               Can
               our
               pure
               Light
               with
               Smoak
               &
               Darkness
               dwell
               ?
            
             
               The
               Poles
               shall
               sooner
               meet
               than
               Heaven
               and
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               Though
               Speech
               avails
               not
               ,
               wracking
               misery
            
             
               Extorts
               from
               him
               another
               fruitless
               Cry.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             Dives
             his
             Second
             Petition
             .
          
           
             
               IF
               such
               an
               Envious
               Gulf
               there
               be
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               Father
               ,
               lend
               an
               Ear
               to
               me
               :
            
             
               From
               Earth
               to
               Heaven
               a
               way
               is
               Pav'd
               ;
            
             
               How
               else
               came
               Lazarus
               to
               be
               Sav'd
               ?
            
             
               Let
               me
               so
               small
               a
               Boon
               entreat
               ,
            
             
               That
               Lazarus
               may
               his
               Steps
               Repeat
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               he
               may
               embody'd
               go
               ,
            
             
               And
               tell
               the
               Stories
               of
               my
               Woe
               .
            
             
               To
               my
               Five
               Brethen
               ,
               who
               all
               dwell
               within
            
             
               My
               Fathers
               House
               (
               Oh
               had
               he
               never
               been
               !
               )
            
             
               Brethren
               in
               Bonds
               of
               Nature
               and
               of
               Sin.
            
             
               O
               let
               him
               tell
               them
               that
               there
               is
               a
               God
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               Scepter
               is
               a
               Sin-revenging
               Rod
               ;
            
             
               And
               let
               him
               tell
               them
               that
               advent●rous
               Dr●lls
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               find
               unto
               their
               Costs
               that
               they
               have
               Souls
               .
            
             
               Mine
               stuckt'th
               '
               Scabbard
               ,
               till
               its
               angry
               Lord
            
             
               Vnsheath'd
               it
               ,
               and
               it
               prov'd
               a
               flaming
               Sword
               :
            
             
               That
               Limbeck
               ,
               Death
               ,
               draws
               Spirits
               from
               our
               Clay
               ,
            
             
               To
               th'
               Element
               of
               Souls
               they
               hast
               away
               ;
            
             
               And
               let
               him
               tell
               them
               ,
               that
               the
               Sadducee
            
             
               Shall
               be
               Hells
               Convert
               ,
               and
               Recant
               with
               me
               .
            
             
             
               Whilst
               they
               lie
               Sleeping
               on
               the
               Brink
               of
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               The
               Smoak
               they
               fee
               not
               ,
               nor
               the
               Brimstone
               smell
               :
            
             
               There
               they
               'l
               disport
               themselves
               with
               Golden
               Dreams
               ,
            
             
               Till
               they
               betray
               'em
               to
               these
               burning
               streams
               :
            
             
               But
               let
               him
               scare
               them
               with
               an
               hollow
               sound
               ,
            
             
               That
               they
               (
               like
               Lot
               )
               may
               flee
               their
               cursed
               Ground
               :
            
             
               O
               send
               him
               quickly
               lest
               they
               tumble
               in
               ,
            
             
               And
               prove
               the
               flaming
               Records
               of
               my
               sin
               :
            
             
               Can
               I
               no
               water
               get
               at
               my
               desire
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               O
               ,
               no
               more
               ,
               no
               more
               ,
               new
               Fleaks
               of
               Fire
               .
            
          
           
             
               This
               Abraham
               heard
               with
               unrelenting
               Ears
               ,
            
             
               No
               pity's
               due
               to
               Hell-Hounds
               Cries
               and
               Tears
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Abraham's
             Answer
             .
          
           
             ONnce
             Heav'n
             bow'd
             down
             &
             touch'dth
             '
             Arabian
             Hill
             ,
          
           
             And
             gave
             a
             Sampler
             of
             the
             sacred
             Will
          
           
             To
             Moses
             Hands
             ,
             that
             chosen
             Man
             of
             God
             ,
          
           
             Copies
             were
             taken
             and
             dispers'd
             abroad
             .
          
           
             (
             So
             his
             kind
             Arms
             abroad
             the
             River
             flings
             ,
          
           
             So
             the
             free
             Sun
             extends
             his
             fruitful
             Wings
             ;
          
           
             As
             this
             most
             Sacred
             Light
             it self
             displays
             ,
          
           
             And
             Guilds
             the
             Tents
             of
             Jacob
             with
             its
             rays
             .
             )
          
           
             For
             Saints
             to
             come
             from
             God
             there
             is
             no
             cause
             ,
          
           
             Himself
             came
             down
             and
             did
             promulge
             his
             Laws
             :
          
           
             Needs
             Lazarus
             take
             a
             Journey
             from
             the
             Sky
             ,
          
           
             When
             wisdom
             at
             your
             Brethrens
             Gates
             doth
             cry
             ,
          
           
             Let
             them
             hear
             Moses
             read
             by
             their
             Divines
             ,
          
           
             ●'th
             '
             Synagogue
             to
             which
             their
             house
             adjoyns
             ;
          
           
             And
             let
             them
             hear
             the
             reverend
             Prophets
             next
             ,
          
           
             Those
             wondrous
             Commentators
             on
             the
             Text.
             
          
        
         
           
           
             Dives
             his
             Reply
             .
          
           
             MOses
             (
             't
             is
             true
             )
             was
             an
             Vnerring
             Guide
             ,
          
           
             So
             were
             those
             sixteen
             Prophets
             on
             his
             side
             :
          
           
             This
             I
             as
             much
             believe
             ,
             as
             if
             I
             saw
          
           
             The
             flaming
             Mount
             ,
             and
             heard
             the
             Fiery
             Law
             ,
          
           
             When
             every
             word
             was
             accented
             with
             Thunder
             ,
          
           
             Which
             Rent
             those
             Oaks
             ,
             the
             Jewish
             hearts
             asunder
             .
          
           
             'T
             is
             here
             as
             necessary
             to
             believe
             ,
          
           
             As
             it
             is
             Natural
             to
             feel
             and
             grieve
             :
          
           
             I
             that
             am
             now
             a
             proof
             of
             sacred
             Writ
             ,
          
           
             Do
             argue
             backwards
             with
             my
             After-wit
             :
          
           
             Hell
             in
             the
             threatnings
             tho'
             I
             did
             not
             see
             ,
          
           
             The
             threatnings
             are
             in
             Hell
             made
             plain
             to
             me
             .
          
           
             I
             skowl'd
             upon
             the
             Heavens
             when
             they
             did
             Lowre
             ,
          
           
             The
             Clouds
             I
             fear'd
             not
             ,
             but
             I
             feel
             the
             Shower
             .
          
           
             Nothing
             will
             move
             my
             Brethren
             but
             a
             Sign
             ,
          
           
             Experience
             is
             the
             powerfulest
             Divine
             :
          
           
             Faith
             is
             the
             Child
             of
             sense
             ,
             whereas
             Report
          
           
             Is
             entertain'd
             with
             Blasphemy
             or
             Sport.
          
           
             They
             have
             a
             Sword
             to
             cut
             the
             Gordian
             Knot
             ,
          
           
             Moses
             saith
             many
             things
             ,
             but
             proves
             them
             not
             .
          
           
             And
             tho'
             they
             hear
             substantial
             Proofs
             there
             be
             ,
          
           
             Nothing
             is
             Proof
             to
             them
             but
             what
             they
             see
             .
          
           
             Had
             they
             an
             Emissary
             from
             above
             ,
          
           
             The
             very
             Sight
             a
             future
             state
             would
             prove
             :
          
           
             Might
             he
             but
             tell
             them
             of
             your
             Heavenly
             Strand
             ,
          
           
             They'd
             all
             turn
             Pilgrims
             for
             that
             Holy
             Land
             ;
          
           
             Or
             might
             he
             preach
             the
             torments
             which
             I
             feel
             ,
          
           
             His
             words
             would
             〈◊〉
             like
             burning
             Gads
             of
             steel
             ;
          
           
             His
             words
             would
             tear
             down
             all
             ,
             like
             thundering
             Guns
             ,
          
           
             Beyond
             the
             faint
             Attempts
             of
             Levi's
             Sons
             .
          
           
           
             O
             were
             I
             of
             this
             cursed
             Chain
             Releas'd
             !
          
           
             (
             With
             that
             he
             gnash'd
             his
             teeth
             and
             knock'd
             his
             breast
             :
             )
          
           
             Might
             I
             be
             to
             the
             Earth
             a
             Preacher
             sent
             ,
          
           
             I
             'de
             burn
             up
             sin
             like
             Stubble
             where
             I
             went
             ;
          
           
             I
             'de
             smoak
             away
             their
             Lusts
             and
             flattering
             Lies
             ,
          
           
             Or
             forth
             I
             'de
             drive
             them
             with
             my
             Glaring
             Eyes
             :
          
           
             I
             'de
             blow
             a
             Trumpet
             which
             should
             Rend
             the
             Ground
             ,
          
           
             Their
             trembling
             Heart-strings
             should
             in
             Consort
             sound
             :
          
           
             I
             'de
             teach
             the
             faithless
             Sadduces
             their
             Creed
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             the
             Pharisees
             to
             pray
             indeed
             :
          
           
             I
             'de
             tell
             the
             Ranters
             such
             a
             doleful
             Tale
             ,
          
           
             That
             they
             should
             mourn
             as
             in
             Megiddons
             Vale
             :
          
           
             I
             'de
             unbewitch
             the
             sots
             and
             slaves
             of
             sin
             ,
          
           
             That
             such
             a
             Reformation
             should
             begin
             ;
          
           
             As
             in
             Josiah's
             time
             did
             not
             befall
             ,
          
           
             And
             the
             next
             Age
             should
             Canonize
             'em
             all
             .
          
        
         
           
             Abraham's
             Rejoynder
             .
          
           
             
               A
               Preaching
               Apparition
               would
               confound
            
             
               Heaven
               daring
               Giants
               with
               its
               dreadful
               found
               ,
            
             
               (
               None
               quake
               so
               soon
               as
               they
               who
               Heaven
               do
               dare
               ,
            
             
               Who
               fear
               not
               God
               ,
               the
               greatest
               Cowards
               are
               :
            
             
               But
               were
               the
               coast
               once
               clear
               ,
               the
               shake
               once
               o're
               ,
            
             
               The
               Lees
               would
               settle
               as
               they
               did
               before
               .
            
             
               
                 "
                 It
                 was
                 a
                 waking
                 Dream
                 they
                 would
                 conclude
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 A
                 Juggle
                 which
                 our
                 Senses
                 did
                 delude
                 :
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Or
                 did
                 we
                 something
                 see
                 ?
                 And
                 something
                 hear
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 Yet
                 whence
                 it
                 came
                 ,
                 it
                 doth
                 not
                 yet
                 appear
                 .
              
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               they
               would
               gravely
               reason
               out
               the
               Case
               ,
            
             
               
                 "
                 What
                 we
                 can
                 grasp
                 ,
                 we
                 gladly
                 will
                 embrace
                 :
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 The
                 rest
                 we
                 leave
                 ;
                 to
                 them
                 let
                 Children
                 heark
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 And
                 fright
                 themselves
                 with
                 Fancies
                 in
                 the
                 dark
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 What
                 is
                 a
                 Spirit
                 ?
                 What
                 's
                 Infinity
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 "
                 What
                 does
                 the
                 word
                 [
                 Eternal
                 ]
                 signifie
                 ?
              
            
             
             
               Charm'd
               are
               their
               Souls
               with
               this
               Oration
               made
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               their
               fear
               shall
               vanish
               like
               the
               shade
               :
            
             
               Thus
               Fools
               (
               tho'
               pounded
               )
               will
               not
               lose
               a
               Grain
               ,
            
             
               And
               Frozen
               snakes
               ,
               when
               thaw'd
               ,
               will
               hisse
               again
               .
            
          
           
             
               Come
               now
               thou
               that
               Pretend'st
               to
               act
               the
               Man
               ,
            
             
               Something
               there
               needs
               must
               be
               ,
               which
               ne're
               began
               ;
            
             
               If
               all
               were
               nothing
               once
               ,
               so
               't
               would
               be
               now
               ,
            
             
               A
               Number
               from
               bare
               Cyphers
               could
               not
               grow
               :
            
             
               Nothing
               's
               a
               Barren
               Womb
               ;
               if
               that
               could
               breed
               ,
            
             
               To
               be
               and
               not
               to
               be
               were
               well
               agreed
               :
            
             
               One
               Point
               is
               gain'd
               ,
               that
               something
               ever
               was
               ;
            
             
               This
               hard
               word
               ,
               Ever
               ,
               you
               must
               let
               it
               pass
               :
            
             
               Know'st
               thou
               how
               far
               this
               Ever
               doth
               extend
               ?
            
             
               You
               must
               grant
               what
               you
               cannot
               Comprehend
               .
            
             
               But
               what
               was
               Ever
               ?
               This
               Imperial
               Robe
               ,
            
             
               Suits
               not
               the
               Azure
               nor
               the
               Verdant
               Globe
               :
            
             
               One
               is
               a
               turning
               Wheel
               ,
               that
               Spins
               out
               time
               ,
            
             
               The
               other
               Pools
               with
               spots
               of
               hardned
               slime
               .
            
             
               Now
               mark
               the
               kinds
               of
               each
               ,
               and
               you
               shall
               find
               ,
            
             
               Unto
               their
               proper
               Sphears
               they
               are
               Confin'd
               :
            
             
               Hereby
               is
               their
               Original
               Confest
               ,
            
             
               Ther
               's
               but
               a
               partial
               Goodness
               in
               the
               best
               :
            
             
               This
               is
               the
               Voice
               of
               their
               Infirmity
               ,
            
             
               
                 "
                 Mere
                 Beggars
                 and
                 Derivatives
                 are
                 we
                 :
              
            
             
               What
               's
               of
               it self
               ,
               that
               doth
               its
               self
               suffice
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               from
               our
               Creatureship
               our
               wants
               arise
               :
            
             
               What
               's
               of
               it self
               ,
               than
               in
               it self
               is
               Blest
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               its
               own
               Center
               and
               at
               perfect
               rest
               ;
            
             
               Rich
               is
               that
               Being
               whence
               all
               Beings
               are
               ,
            
             
               And
               whence
               each
               Being
               has
               its
               proper
               share
               .
            
             
               Nor
               is
               't
               a
               wonder
               of
               so
               high
               degree
               ,
            
             
               To
               make
               to
               be
               ,
               as
               of
               it self
               to
               be
               ;
            
             
               Something
               then
               ever
               was
               ,
               which
               needs
               must
               be
               ,
            
             
               From
               all
               the
               shades
               of
               Imperfections
               free
               .
            
             
             
               Hence
               are
               we
               ;
               and
               to
               think
               ,
               in
               vain
               we
               are
               ,
            
             
               Is
               to
               condemn
               his
               Wisdom
               at
               our
               Bar.
            
             
               As
               Men
               the
               Badge
               of
               their
               dependance
               wear
            
             
               On
               their
               frail
               Flesh
               (
               the
               Graves
               probationer
               )
            
             
               And
               on
               their
               hearts
               ,
               whose
               restless
               Motions
               show
            
             
               Something
               they
               want
               ,
               which
               is
               not
               here
               below
               ;
            
             
               So
               must
               they
               own
               whom
               they
               are
               forc'd
               to
               know
               ,
            
             
               And
               pay
               themselves
               to
               whom
               themselves
               they
               Owe
               :
            
             
               Neither
               would
               this
               their
               Light
               of
               comfort
               Dim
               ,
            
             
               But
               they
               should
               serve
               themselves
               in
               serving
               him
               .
            
             
               
                 When
                 Graves
                 upbraid
                 proud
                 Grave-stones
                 with
                 their
                 Lies
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 God's
                 Servant
                 is
                 a
                 Title
                 nevers
                 dies
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               The
               thoughts
               in
               Man
               do
               prove
               his
               Soul
               to
               be
               ;
            
             
               His
               Conscience
               bodes
               his
               immortality
               :
            
             
               This
               Bosom
               Magistrate
               his
               Facts
               espies
            
             
               And
               binds
               him
               over
               to
               the
               last
               Assize
               :
            
             
               He
               trembles
               at
               his
               Summons
               to
               appear
               ;
            
             
               His
               fear
               makes
               not
               a
               God
               ,
               God
               makes
               his
               Fear
               ,
            
             
               Religion
               by
               Corroding
               doth
               assay
            
             
               Even
               thro'
               an
               Heart
               of
               Rock
               to
               force
               its
               way
               .
            
             
               O
               might
               he
               to
               himself
               be
               so
               sincere
               ,
            
             
               To
               strive
               to
               please
               whom
               he
               's
               constrain'd
               to
               fear
               .
            
          
           
             
               Yet
               will
               he
               be
               a
               Vagrant
               all
               his
               days
               ,
            
             
               Without
               a
               Method
               to
               direct
               his
               ways
               .
            
             
               What
               Eye
               e're
               pierc'd
               th'
               Almighties
               Sacred
               Breast
               ?
            
             
               Himself
               knows
               only
               what
               will
               please
               him
               best
               .
            
          
           
             
               Since
               Man
               was
               made
               to
               serve
               his
               Makers
               will
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               an
               height
               transcending
               humane
               skill
               ,
            
             
               A
               Rule
               must
               needs
               be
               granted
               from
               on
               High
            
             
               For
               him
               to
               regulate
               his
               Actions
               by
               :
            
             
               This
               Heaven-sprung
               Rule
               that
               S●cred
               Roll
               contains
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               the
               Consecrated
               Land
               remains
               .
            
             
             
               Its
               words
               and
               mysteries
               are
               all
               Divine
               ,
            
             
               And
               weighty
               Mountains
               Hang
               on
               every
               Line
               ;
            
             
               It
               (
               Sun
               like
               )
               Shines
               by
               its
               own
               Golden
               Beams
               ,
            
             
               And
               scorns
               its
               base
               Corrivals
               senseless
               Dreams
               :
            
             
               Those
               Spangles
               which
               the
               Heathen
               Sages
               Left
            
             
               Were
               from
               this
               Mine
               snatch'd
               by
               an
               Honest
               Theft
               .
            
             
               Give
               me
               that
               hardy
               Brow
               ,
               that
               dares
               deny
            
             
               The
               Bible
               well
               attested
               History
               :
            
             
               Moses
               said
               many
               things
               ,
               and
               prov'd
               them
               too
            
             
               With
               proofs
               which
               all
               Hells
               Magick
               did
               out-do
               ;
            
             
               God's
               power
               he
               carried
               in
               his
               Hands
               ,
               to
               show
               ,
            
             
               That
               from
               his
               Mouth
               the
               Truths
               of
               God
               did
               flow
               :
            
             
               And
               his
               Credentials
               on
               his
               Face
               did
               shine
               ,
            
             
               Which
               there
               were
               written
               by
               a
               Beam
               Divine
               .
            
             
               The
               gazing
               Jews
               were
               struck
               ,
               who
               plainly
               saw
            
             
               That
               whence
               he
               had
               his
               Light
               ,
               he
               had
               his
               Law.
               
            
          
           
             
               Those
               Sections
               which
               the
               Sacred
               Code
               begin
               ▪
            
             
               Were
               by
               an
               Age
               of
               wonders
               Usher'd
               in
               .
            
             
               The
               Prophets
               superstructure
               firmly
               stands
            
             
               On
               two
               hewn
               Stones
               laid
               by
               th'
               Almighties
               Hands
               :
            
             
               They
               count
               the
               footsteps
               of
               their
               coming
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               They
               view
               the
               Mercy-seat
               with
               one
               accord
               .
            
             
               One
               tells
               his
               Name
               ,
               another
               tells
               his
               place
               ;
            
             
               Another
               writes
               the
               Beauties
               of
               his
               Face
               .
            
             
               Thus
               is
               he
               Glanc'd
               at
               by
               their
               piercing
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               The
               last
               of
               them
               his
               Harbinger
               espies
               :
            
             
               And
               O
               the
               Brisk
               ,
               the
               Charming
               Airs
               that
               Spring
            
             
               From
               the
               consent
               of
               each
               Harmonious
               string
               !
            
             
               He
               's
               overwise
               who
               dreads
               Fictitious
               ●ines
            
             
               From
               Hands
               unbrib'd
               ,
               and
               Hearts
               without
               designs
               .
            
             
               They
               wrote
               beyond
               themselves
               ,
               which
               serves
               to
               prove
               ,
            
             
               Their
               hearts
               &
               hands
               were
               guided
               from
               above
            
             
               The
               Worlds
               just
               Age
               ,
               and
               what
               was
               done
               of
               old
            
             
               Are
               in
               this
               Sacred
               Register
               inroll'd
               .
            
             
             
               Here
               may
               be
               seen
               the
               pristin
               state
               of
               Man
               ,
            
             
               And
               ,
               that
               Niles
               Head
               ,
               the
               Source
               where
               ills
               began
               .
            
             
               Here
               may
               be
               seen
               what
               makes
               a
               second
               Spring
               ;
            
             
               Here
               is
               the
               ●est
               account
               of
               every
               thing
               .
            
          
           
             
               The
               Wonders
               witness'd
               now
               by
               mortal
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Are
               but
               the
               products
               of
               its
               Prophecies
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Scriptures
                 rule
                 the
                 World
                 :
                 Till
                 this
                 shall
                 burn
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 All
                 Ages
                 on
                 that
                 Axle-Tree
                 shall
                 turn
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               This
               Heaven-inspired
               Volume
               doth
               avow
            
             
               What
               reason
               may
               embrace
               ,
               or
               must
               allow
               .
            
             
               When
               God
               describes
               himself
               ,
               't
               is
               such
               an
               height
               ,
            
             
               As
               far
               surmounts
               quick
               fancies
               highest
               Flight
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               Reason
               ,
               Reason
               should
               be
               puzzled
               here
               ;
            
             
               Man
               should
               be
               God
               if
               he
               knew
               what
               he
               were
               .
            
             
               To
               these
               vast
               heights
               thus
               sober
               Reason
               saith
               ,
            
             
               I
               see
               the
               Seals
               :
               And
               yields
               the
               Chair
               to
               Faith.
            
             
               Now
               the
               Almighties
               Word
               shall
               Vermin
               slight
               ,
            
             
               When
               Heaven
               and
               Earth
               bear
               witness
               to
               its
               Might
               .
            
             
               Vast
               Numbers
               from
               his
               Word
               at
               first
               did
               flow
               ,
            
             
               And
               must
               his
               Word
               pass
               for
               a
               Cypher
               now
               ?
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               his
               Commands
               at
               first
               Creations
               were
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               his
               Word
               Commands
               ;
               and
               give
               an
               Ear
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               a
               Sun
               that
               gives
               both
               Light
               and
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               A
               Voice
               that
               bids
               and
               makes
               the
               dead
               arise
               :
            
             
               It
               makes
               Clouds
               ,
               Stars
               ;
               And
               sends
               them
               to
               the
               Sky
               ;
            
             
               And
               turneth
               Heaven
               ●nto
               a
               Colony
               .
            
          
           
             
               Unbelief
               is
               not
               Reason
               but
               a
               Lust
               ;
            
             
               God's
               Hand
               and
               Sword
               gives
               it
               its
               mortal
               thrust
               .
            
             
               ●he
               Law
               of
               the
               Two
               Tables
               will
               prevail
               ,
            
             
               When
               other
               (
               self-invented
               )
               means
               shall
               fail
               .
            
             
               Whilst
               other
               Archers
               Level
               in
               the
               Dark
               .
            
             
               The
               Arrows
               from
               Gods
               Quiver
               hit
               the
               Mark.
            
             
             
               What
               Voices
               or
               what
               Visions
               would
               you
               have
               ?
            
             
               Gods
               Voice
               (
               or
               nothing
               )
               will
               your
               Brethren
               save
               :
            
             
               New
               Methods
               of
               Salvation
               to
               contrive
            
             
               Is
               fruitless
               Labour
               :
               Let
               'em
               hear
               and
               Live
               ;
            
             
               But
               if
               they
               won't
               ,
               their
               Mittimus
               is
               Seal'd
               ;
            
             
               A
               stubborn
               Patient
               never
               can
               be
               heal'd
               .
            
             
               
                 If
                 Preachers
                 rais'd
                 by
                 God
                 they
                 will
                 disdain
              
               ;
            
             
               
                 Preachers
                 rais'd
                 from
                 the
                 Grave
                 should
                 preach
                 in
                 vain
                 .
              
            
          
           
             FINIS
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           Books
           lately
           Printed
           for
           Tho.
           Parkhurst
           ,
           at
           the
           Bible
           and
           Three
           Crowns
           in
           Cheapside
           .
        
         
           THE
           Confirming
           Work
           of
           Religion
           ,
           and
           its
           great
           things
           made
           plain
           by
           their
           primary
           evidences
           and
           demonstrations
           ;
           whereby
           the
           meanest
           in
           the
           Church
           may
           soon
           be
           made
           able
           to
           render
           a
           rational
           account
           of
           their
           Faith.
           
        
         
           A
           Family-Altar
           ,
           erected
           to
           the
           honour
           of
           the
           Eternal
           God
           :
           Or
           ,
           a
           solemn
           Essay
           to
           promote
           the
           Worship
           of
           God
           in
           Private
           Houses
           ;
           being
           some
           Meditations
           on
           Gen.
           35.
           2
           ,
           3.
           
           With
           the
           best
           Entail
           ,
           or
           dying
           Parents
           Living
           Hopes
           for
           their
           Surviving
           Children
           ,
           grounded
           upon
           the
           Covenant
           of
           Gods
           Grace
           with
           Believers
           and
           their
           Seed
           :
           Being
           a
           short
           Discourse
           on
           2
           Sam.
           23.
           5.
           by
           
             Oliver
             Heywood
          
           ,
           Minister
           of
           the
           Gospel
           .
        
         
           The
           Gospel-Mystery
           of
           Sanctification
           open'd
           ,
           in
           sundry
           practical
           Directions
           ,
           suited
           especially
           to
           the
           Case
           of
           those
           who
           labour
           under
           the
           guilt
           and
           power
           of
           Indwelling
           Sin.
           To
           which
           is
           added
           a
           Sermon
           of
           Justification
           ;
           by
           
             Walter
             Marshal
          
           ,
           Minister
           of
           the
           Gospel
           ,
           &c.
           
        
         
         
           Death
           improved
           ,
           and
           immoderate
           sorrow
           for
           deceased
           Friends
           and
           Relations
           reproved
           .
           Where
           in
           you
           have
           many
           arguments
           against
           Immoderate
           sorrow
           ,
           and
           many
           profitable
           Lessons
           which
           we
           may
           learn
           from
           such
           Providences
           ;
           by
           
             Edw.
             Bury
          
           ,
           formerly
           Minister
           of
           great
           Bolas
           in
           Shropshire
           ,
           Author
           of
           the
           Help
           to
           Holy
           Walking
           ,
           and
           the
           Husbandmans
           Companion
           ,
           &c.
           
        
         
           The
           Poor
           Mans
           help
           ,
           and
           Young
           Mans
           guide
           ;
           containing
           ,
           1.
           
           Doctrinal
           instructions
           for
           the
           right
           informing
           of
           his
           Judgment
           .
           2.
           
           Practical
           directions
           for
           the
           general
           course
           of
           his
           Life
           3.
           
           Particular
           advices
           for
           the
           well
           managing
           of
           every
           day
           ,
           with
           reference
           to
           his
           Natural
           Actions
           ,
           Civil
           Employments
           ,
           Necessary
           Recreations
           ,
           Religious
           Duties
           ,
           particularly
           Prayer
           ,
           Publick
           in
           the
           Congregation
           ,
           Private
           in
           the
           Family
           ,
           Secret
           in
           the
           Closet
           ,
           Reading
           the
           Holy
           Scriptures
           ,
           Hearing
           the
           Word
           Preached
           ,
           and
           Receiving
           the
           Lords
           Supper
           ;
           by
           
             William
             Bu●kitt
          
           ,
           M.
           A.
           of
           Pembrook-hall
           in
           Cambridge
           ,
           and
           now
           Vicar
           of
           Dedham
           in
           Essex
           ,
           and
           Author
           of
           the
           Practical
           Discourse
           of
           Infant
           Baptism
           .
        
         
           The
           Rod
           or
           the
           Sword
           ,
           the
           present
           Dilemma
           of
           the
           Nations
           of
           
             England
             ,
             Scotland
          
           and
           Ireland
           ,
           considered
           ,
           argued
           and
           improved
           ,
           on
           Ezek.
           21.
           14
           by
           a
           true
           friend
           to
           the
           Protestant
           Interest
           ,
           and
           the
           Present
           Government
           .
        
         
           A
           Present
           for
           such
           as
           have
           been
           Sick
           ,
           and
           are
           Recovered
           ;
           or
           a
           Discourse
           concerning
           the
           Good
           that
           comes
           out
           of
           the
           Evil
           of
           Affliction
           ;
           being
           several
           Sermons
           Preached
           after
           his
           being
           raised
           from
           a
           Bed
           of
           Languishing
           ;
           by
           
             Nathaniel
             Vincent
          
           M.
           A.
           and
           Author
           of
           the
           Conversion
           of
           the
           Soul.
           The
           true
           Touchstone
           of
           Grace
           and
           Nature
           .
           Discourse
           of
           Conscience
           .
           Treatise
           of
           Prayer
           and
           Love
           ,
           &c.
           
        
         
         
           Some
           passages
           in
           the
           Holy
           Life
           and
           Death
           of
           the
           Late
           Reverend
           Mr.
           
             Edmund
             Trench
          
           ;
           most
           of
           them
           drawn
           out
           of
           his
           own
           Diary
           ;
           Published
           by
           
             Joseph
             Boyse
          
           Minister
           in
           Dublin
           .
        
         
           An
           account
           of
           the
           blessed
           Trinity
           ,
           argued
           from
           the
           Nature
           and
           Perfection
           of
           the
           Supream
           Spirit
           co-incident
           with
           the
           Scripture
           Doctrine
           ,
           in
           all
           the
           Articles
           of
           the
           Catholick
           Creeds
           ;
           together
           with
           its
           Mystical
           ,
           Federal
           and
           Practical
           Uses
           in
           the
           Christian
           Religion
           ;
           by
           
             William
             Borrough
          
           Rector
           of
           Cheyns
           in
           Bucks
           .
        
         
           A
           Discourse
           of
           Justification
           ,
           being
           the
           sum
           of
           twenty
           Sermons
           by
           
             Walter
             Cross
          
           ,
           M.
           A.
           
        
         
           Forty
           Nine
           Sermons
           on
           the
           whole
           Epistle
           of
           the
           Apostle
           Paul
           to
           the
           Colossians
           ,
           by
           Monsieur
           Duille
           ,
           Minister
           of
           the
           Reformed
           Church
           in
           
             Paris
             .
             Folio
          
           .
        
         
           Sermons
           and
           Discourses
           on
           several
           Divine
           Subjects
           ;
           by
           the
           Late
           Reverend
           and
           Learned
           
             David
             Clarkson
          
           ,
           B.
           D.
           and
           sometime
           Fellow
           of
           
             Clare-Hall
             ,
             Cambridge
             .
             Folio
          
           .
        
         
           The
           Support
           of
           the
           Faithful
           in
           Times
           of
           Persecution
           ;
           or
           a
           Sermon
           Preach'd
           in
           the
           Wilderness
           to
           the
           Poor
           Protestants
           in
           France
           ;
           by
           M.
           Brousson
           ,
           an
           Eminent
           Minister
           ,
           who
           was
           broke
           upon
           the
           VVheel
           at
           
             Montpelier
             ,
             Novem.
             6.
             1698.
             
             Quarto
             .
          
        
         
           The
           Fountain
           of
           Life
           opened
           ;
           or
           a
           Display
           of
           Christ
           in
           his
           Essential
           and
           Mediatoral
           Glory
           ;
           containing
           forty
           two
           Sermons
           on
           various
           Texts
           :
           VVherein
           the
           Impetration
           of
           our
           Redemption
           by
           Jesus
           Christ
           is
           orderly
           unfolded
           ,
           as
           it
           was
           begun
           ,
           carried
           on
           ,
           and
           finished
           by
           his
           Covenant
           Transaction
           ,
           Mysterious
           Incarnation
           ,
           solemn
           Call
           and
           Dedication
           ,
           blessed
           Offices
           ,
           deep
           Abasement
           ,
           and
           Supereminent
           Advancement
           .
        
         
         
           A
           Treatise
           of
           the
           Soul
           of
           Man
           ,
           wherein
           the
           Divine
           Original
           ,
           excellent
           and
           immortal
           Nature
           of
           the
           Soul
           are
           opened
           ;
           its
           Love
           and
           Inclination
           to
           the
           Body
           ,
           with
           the
           Necessity
           of
           its
           Separation
           from
           it
           ,
           considered
           and
           improved
           .
           The
           Existence
           ,
           Operations
           and
           States
           of
           separated
           Souls
           both
           in
           Heaven
           and
           Hell
           immediately
           after
           Death
           ,
           asserted
           ,
           discussed
           and
           variously
           applied
           .
           Divers
           knotty
           and
           difficult
           Questions
           about
           departed
           Souls
           both
           Philosophical
           and
           Theological
           ,
           stated
           and
           determined
           .
        
         
           Hymns
           suited
           to
           the
           Sacrament
           by
           
             Tho.
             Vincent
          
           ,
           &c.
           
        
         
           The
           Method
           of
           Grace
           in
           bringing
           home
           the
           Eternal
           Redemption
           ,
           contrived
           by
           the
           Father
           ,
           and
           accomplished
           by
           the
           Son
           ,
           thro'
           the
           Effectual
           Application
           of
           the
           Spirit
           unto
           God's
           Elect
           ,
           being
           the
           second
           Part
           of
           Gospel
           Redemption
           .
        
         
           The
           Divine
           Conduct
           or
           Mystery
           of
           Providence
           ,
           its
           Being
           and
           Efficacy
           asserted
           and
           vindicated
           ;
           all
           the
           Methods
           of
           Providence
           in
           our
           course
           of
           life
           opened
           ,
           with
           directions
           how
           to
           apply
           and
           improve
           them
           .
        
         
           Navigation
           spiritualiz'd
           ,
           or
           a
           New
           Compass
           for
           Seamen
           ,
           consisting
           of
           thirty
           two
           points
           of
           pleasant
           Observations
           ,
           profitable
           Applications
           ,
           serious
           Reflections
           ,
           all
           concluded
           with
           so
           many
           spiritual
           Poems
           ,
           &c.
           
        
         
           A
           Saint
           indeed
           ,
           the
           great
           Work
           of
           a
           Christian
           .
        
         
           A
           Touchstone
           of
           sincerity
           ,
           or
           signs
           of
           Grace
           ,
           and
           symptoms
           of
           Hypocrisie
           ,
           being
           the
           second
           part
           of
           the
           Saints
           indeed
           .
        
         
           A
           Token
           for
           Mourners
           ,
           or
           Boundaries
           for
           sorrow
           for
           the
           Death
           of
           Friends
           .
        
         
           Husbandry
           ●piritualiz'd
           ;
           or
           the
           Heavenly
           use
           of
           Earthly
           Things
           ;
           all
           these
           ten
           by
           Mr.
           
             John
             Flavell
          
           .
        
         
         
           A
           Funeral
           Sermon
           on
           the
           Death
           of
           that
           Pious
           Gentlewoman
           Mrs.
           
             Judith
             Hammond
          
           ,
           late
           Wife
           of
           the
           reverend
           Mr.
           
             George
             Hammond
          
           ,
           Minister
           of
           the
           Gospel
           in
           London
           .
        
         
           Of
           Thoughtfulness
           for
           the
           Morrow
           ;
           with
           an
           Appendix
           concerning
           the
           immoderate
           desire
           of
           foreknowing
           Things
           to
           come
           .
        
         
           Of
           Charity
           in
           reference
           to
           other
           Mens
           sins
           .
        
         
           The
           Redeemers
           Tears
           wept
           over
           lost
           souls
           ,
           in
           a
           treathe
           on
           Luke
           19.
           41
           ,
           42.
           
           With
           an
           appendix
           ,
           wherein
           some
           what
           is
           occasionally
           discoursed
           concerning
           the
           sin
           aganist
           the
           Holy
           Ghost
           ,
           and
           how
           God
           is
           said
           to
           Will
           the
           salvation
           of
           them
           that
           perish
           .
        
         
           A
           sermon
           directing
           what
           we
           are
           to
           do
           after
           a
           strict
           Enquiry
           ,
           whether
           or
           no
           we
           truly
           love
           God.
           
        
         
           A
           funeral
           sermon
           for
           Mrs.
           
             Esther
             Sampson
          
           ,
           late
           Wife
           of
           Mr.
           
             Henry
             Sampson
          
           ,
           Doctor
           of
           Physick
           ,
           who
           died
           Novem.
           24.
           1689.
           
        
         
           The
           Carnality
           of
           religious
           Contention
           ;
           In
           two
           sermons
           preach'd
           at
           the
           Merchants
           Lecture
           in
           
             Broad●
             street
          
           .
        
         
           A
           calm
           and
           sober
           Enquiry
           concerning
           the
           possibility
           of
           a
           Trinity
           in
           the
           Godhead
           .
        
         
           A
           Letter
           to
           a
           Friend
           concerning
           a
           Postscript
           to
           the
           Defence
           of
           Dr.
           
           Sherlock's
           Notion
           of
           the
           Trinity
           in
           Unity
           ,
           relating
           to
           the
           calm
           and
           sober
           Enquiry
           upon
           the
           same
           Subject
           .
        
         
           A
           View
           of
           that
           part
           of
           the
           late
           Consideration
           Addrest
           to
           
             H.
             H.
          
           about
           the
           Trinity
           ;
           which
           concerns
           the
           sober
           Enquiry
           on
           that
           subject
           .
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
         
      
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A52174-e41770
           
             *
             The
             Eng.
             of
             Lazur●s
             .