THE Christian Pattern paraphrased: OR, The BOOK of The Imitation of CHRIST.  
Commonly ascribed to THOMAS à KEMPIS.  
Made English by LUKE MILBOURN, A Presbyter of the Church of England.  
A Verse may find him who a Sermon flies,  
And turn Delight into a Sacrifice. Herb. Perhirrant.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Callim. Hymno in Apoll.  
LONDON, Printed for Roger Clavel, at the Peacock against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet. 1696.   

TO THE PRINCESS.  
Madam!  
WHEN Religion appears in a declining State, only the greatest Hands can revive the expiring Virgin, make soft Blushes rush out again into her faded Checks, and stubborn and unnurtured Souls submit to the sacred Violence of her prevailing Beauties.  
Almighty God is the Great Physician who alone can make this happy Change in Her, who, as descended from Himself, depends upon his Smiles, and lives and conquers only to and for Him; but He makes Princes Nursing Fathers, and Princess' Nursing Mothers to that heavenly Charmer. He made a Royal unbeliever the Patroness of his Friend, the Founder of Judaisme, exposed to the uncertain Fluxes of the Nile; and has appointed Your Royal Highness, the greatest Princess of the Christian Name, the blessed Protectress of that Divine Religion, profestin that Church which he has here founded in his own most precious Blood.  
I have endeavoured to reduce a wand'ring Hagar, perverted Poetry, to the Service of her sacred Mistress; I have taught her to sing the Songs of Zion in a degenerate Age; I have filled her Mouth with holy Prayers, humble Praises, and devout Ejaculations; have taught her to look up again to that Heaven from whence she came at first; and that she may hereafter take the Nobler Flights, I lay her an humble Petitioner at the Feet of Your Royal Highness.  
However I have managed the Cause, I'm sure I have taken Sanctuary under the best Protection: And if THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN, hugged so oft in pious Bosoms when in her rustic Habit, can now in a more refined State and cheerful Garb give any Delight to Your Royal Highness' retired Hours; or, under the Shadow of so August a Name, make Religion and Piety more valued among reputed Christians, I shall think myself invidiously happy, and all those Minutes well employed, which gave mean Opportunity to assume the Title God's and Your Royal Highness'  
Most Humble, Most Faithful, and Devoted Servant, LUKE MILBOURNE.   

THE PREFACE.  
POETRY in elder days was the Servant of Religion; by that our Ancestors transmitted Divine Truths to their Posterity; and Prophets and Priests conveyed the Precepts of Morality and the Mysteries of Faith down to their Disciples: and perhaps Holy Scripture itself affords us nothing more Ancient, than the Israelites Song after the drowning of Pharaoh and his Egyptian Army in the Red Sea, and the History of Job, which with the Songs of Moses, Deborah, Habakkuk, and the Canticles, are the most exalted Pieces of Poesy in the World.  
But as Religion herself, the greatest Beauty of the rational Soul, has been abused to cover the Extravagances of the worst of Villains; so Poetry, the Gift of Heaven, has, by the Activity of Hell and wicked Men, been perverted to affront its Giver, to explode Religion, to vitiate Manners, and to countenance and encourage whatsoever might provoke God, and scandalise considering Men.  
Soft Words, harmonious Numbers, lofty Fancy, daring Figures, and noble Expressions, have been the Leaf-Gold to disguise infectious Pills. Our most celebrated Poets of late have led the Way to Vice, and the rest of the crawling Vermin have sometimes croaked even in the Royal Chambers; Wit has been measured by its Lewdness, and he has been esteemed the best Poet who has made the most numerous Proselytes to the Devil.  
This Reflection made some of my Reverend Brethren invite me to assert the Ancient Rights of Poetry. They thought it worthy the Study of a Divine, to make her talk in her Original Language; promote the Honour of God, and the Interests of Religion; convince the World that heavenly things were capable of all the Embellishments with which a Poetical Genius could accoutre them; and that without the ridiculous Garniture of a Fantastic Beau, Religion might appear in public with the charming Modesty of a Virgin, the Majesty of a Queen, the Purity of an Angel, and the Awfulness of a God.  
When I was persuaded to try my Talon that way, the Bookseller, whose Interest was like to be concerned, pitched upon the CHRISTIAN PATTERN, as meriting a better Dress than at present it appeared in. ● The Original is extremely plain and very pious, much bought up by well-inclined Christians, and very likely to advance Devotion. Verse may render it yet more pleasant to the Reader, more impressive on the Memory; the very mode of Expression may add something to the Excellency of the Matter, and both together raise the Soul to a nobler pitch in quest of Divine Virtues, and never-ending Felicity.  
The present Book then is the Product of some, unwished for, leisure Hours. Who was the first Author of it, is as impertinent a Disquisition, as that after the true Author of the Epistles ascribed to Phalaris, or the Writer of Aesop 's Fables. Yet Monsieur Launoy has discharged Thomas â Kempis, and ascribes it to John de Canabaco, or Gersen, or Gessen, Abbot, as I think, of Vercelles, and contemporary with St. Francis: The Book has a sufficient Tincture of the Age it was written in; a sour kind of Leaven run through it, which I have endeavoured so far to purge out, that it might be at once a pleasant and wholesome Reefction for a Pious Contemplative Christian.  
The Work is a Paraphrase, sometimes close to the Text, sometimes more Libertine, a● the matter would allow. Sometimes I have only kept my Author in view at a distance, making his Religious my Christian Priest, expunging his whole 17th Chap. of Book I. for I persuade myself, that nothing but Persecution should drive Christians into a continued Solitude; and that Monasteries and Convents, those Academies of Superstition and refined Lewdness, were none of the Institutions of the gospel.  
In the 4th Book, treating wholly of the Eucharist, I have trodden with all the tenderness I could between the Extremes of Popish Superstition, and Phanatic Indecency and Slovenliness. I love no empty Signs, nor am I ambitious to devour my Maker. A Socinian would scarce tempt me to esteem the Lord's Supper an Institution of no weight, an unholy things; nor could all the Sophistry of a Hind let lose, and giving goodly Words, persuade me to adore the Consecrated Elements, as if they were transubstantiated into God.  
The Matter of the Book is serious and grave, but full of Breaks and Repetitions, which were not always to be avoided, and made it the harder to find out Lemma 's to every Chapter, which might be pertinent: the Style is very mean, and therefore less capable of Ornament; To dress our Saviour's Sermon on the Mount with Virgil's Flights, or Ovid's Fancy, would be, not to beautify, but profane it. Sacred Truth may evaporate with the Violence of a hot Brain; and too much Light may strike a Man quite blind; yet humble as the Original is I have sometimes adventured to soar a little, but never out of Sight. To compensate for the meanness of the Style, I have dressed it out in the greater Variety of Numbers, and have tuned them to the Judicious Ear, so as nothing in them may sound harsh or ungratefully; and instead of the Original Chapters, I have put a Text of Scripture, generally pretty apposite, in the head of every Division It may now perhaps supersede the Common English Prose Translation; but I'm not for discarding even Sternhold and Hopkins for a worse Version of David 's Psalms, nor that Prose for tedious and ill-sounding Rhimes. The 3d Book, being all Dialogue, I have given all fitting Variety to, without resolving it into Stanza's. In short, by the Smoothness of the Verse, the general Correctness of the English, and that pious Air which runs through the whole, some I hope may be drawn to admire Divine Poetry, and to court a native Loveliness more than a flaunting adulterated Beauty.  
The Employ was a happy Diversion of those Melancholic Thoughts which else might have affected one too much, who had met with no extraordinary good Usage from the World. In it I endeavoured as much as possible to make the Author's Sentiments, so far as justifiable, my own; and the Peruser may read my Heart and the Original Composer's together. And indeed whoever would Translate or Paraphrase an Author well, must try to work up himself to the same temper he was in when he wrote the Original. A narrow Soul can't exhibit the Excellencies of Homer or Virgil in another Language; nor will David 's Harp sound well in any Hand, but where the same Spirit, who influenced that sweet Singer of Israel, has in some measure possessed the Heart, and harmonized the Life and Conversation.  
I expect the Critics should spend their Verdicts upon the Performance. As for the Subject it's too much out of the road of the Witty Tribe; they'll let it alone for the same reason, for which Aretine spoke no evil of God. But they'll carp at an Epithet, or nibble at a Phrase; and look upon it as very Affrontive that a little Theologue should pretend acquaintance with the Muses, that he should presume to censure the Brethren of Parnassus, or divert Poetry from the Service of lewd Mistresses, from Burlesquing the most Divine Truths, from profane Rants, and blasphemous Flights, from the Slavery of an obscene Stage, and gratifying a corrupted Populace. To all this He must plead Guilty: He owns he loves and reuerences that Holy Religion which they scoff at, and ridicule; and here, as a late Author expresses it, Is a Field of satire opened to Him: But he had rather spend his Time in composing Hymns to the Glory of his Maker, than Satyrs upon an Atheistical Crew; not that he fears their Returns, but he thinks every Minute misspent which is laid out upon them.  
I pretend not yet that I have made a complete Poem of the Christian Pattern; perhaps even the great Corneille failed in that, though some say his Paraphrase on our Author was his Masterpiece. I dream not of having honoured my Country, exalted my Mother Tongue, that I have wronged my Author less than others have done, that my Faults are neither gross nor frequent, and all that. Those who are used to admire themselves, can't forbear it when they have one Foot in the Grave; but the old Hound deserves the Cudgel who thinks he can pinch as close when his Teeth are out, as he could in his more vigorous Years. If a good Christian, as well as a good Critic, shows me my Error, I'll correct it; Criticism should aim only at mending what's amiss. The true Critic distinguishes of the Styles of Authors, gives us an Authentic Text, and the true Import of Words in particular Writers; shows the difference between spurious and genuine Pieces, that Relation there is between men's Writings, and the Laws and Usages of the Countries or Places they writ in or about: He tries to fix the Aeras of great Revolutions, and of particular, if considerable, Events, and endeavours to show the Cryptick Sense of the most learned or obscure Authors. The Critic who employs himself thus, deserves not the Character of ill Nature, he only helps to set things in their true Light; where he shows any Man his Mistakes, he gives him an opportunity of rectifying 'em, that he may look out into the World with the Eulogies of some reasonable Creature beside himself, He lets the World see how much they are oft imposed on by Names and Noise, and how justly they may complain,  
Grandia saepe quibus mandavimus Hordea sulcis,  
Infelix Lolium & steriles nascuntur avenae.  
Which, notwithstanding the New Version of that great Poet, I'd render thus,  
Oft where with fairest Grain we sowed the Fields,  
Darnel and barren Oats the luckless Harvest yields.  
Some Gentlemen perhaps, who, by the Religion they profess, claim kindred with Heathens, Jews, and Mahometans (for it's good to be of the strongest side) may think I have gone out of my way (that's the Word) under the last Head to meet with them. I must confess I have some Obligations to them, which in due time, God willing, I shall very faithfully discharge. I can't wonder that those who have called my Mother Whore, should fix a malicious Character upon Me. They are a Generation formidable, not for their reasoning Faculty, but for their Jesuitism and Impudence. They deal with the Defenders of Truth as Aethiopian Apes with their Enemy the Lion; they fling all the Sand and Dust they can rake together into his Mouth and Eyes, and then run away grinning, and hope to escape in a Cloud of their own Raising. They shelter their Sauciness under the Pretence of a fine new Discovery; they have found (doubtless after much Fasting and Prayer, as Father Laelius of old) that there are Nominal and Real Trinitarians (and who would regard them who are so divided among themselves?) as if those who assert the Father, Son and Holy Ghost to be real distinct Persons or Subsistences in the same Divine Nature, and those who assert, That every particular Person has his own peculiar Mode of Subsistence in that Divine Nature, did not both believe a real Trinity. Or, as if They were not to be credited in their most solemn Asseverations, when these Night-Birds, declareing their Agreement with the Church of England (that superannuated Beldame, that Empire of King Oberon, as they sometimes very respectfully call Her) expect to be believed; though to believe them a Man must crack more Flashoods and notorious Contradictions than all those Mysteries amount to, which they have pretended to break their Teeth upon. Indeed if they'd own once that the Father in and by Himself is infinite, Eternal, Incomprehensible, etc. that the Son is in and by Himself, Infinite, Eternal, Incomprehensible, etc. and that the Holy Ghost is in and by Himself, Infinite, Eternal, Incomprehensible, etc. they will agree in that Point with the Church of England; and the Argument deducible from those Concessions, to prove that the Father is God, the Son God, and the Holy Ghost God, and yet that there is and can be but one God, will amount to a Demonstration.  
They tell us indeed that their Writings look like fair well-furnished Houses, where every thing is plain and regular; but they may remember the famous Manchegan Hero, who was as eminent for Chivalry as they are for Divinity, took the beggarly Vent for a stately Castle, bare Walls and Sluttishness for noble Furniture, and a pair of Stroling Drabs for beautiful Damsels and Illustrious Princesses. Again, they find nothing but dark and obscure in the clearest Vindications of Eternal Truth, but it's because they are always blind at Home, and their Eyes are in the ends of the Earth. Indeed if Religion wanted Buffoons or Merry Andrews, the Gentlemen might be of some use to Her: For, for a rude or Impertinent Jest, a modish Droll, a blasphemous Flirt, or a long Declamation in praise of their own Elixirs, Orvietans, or Powders of Pimperlimpimp, they'd outdo most of our riding Quacks, or Germane Jugglers; but for sound Reason, Chrysippus his Dog outveyed'um; and Balaam 's Ass might much better than They, have superseded the necessity of Divine Revelation. Answers to them are to the less purpose, because they murder us so with their repeated Crambe's, their wretched Quelque Chose shall be set again a hundred times upon the same Table, only made a little poignant with the Sauce of a new Scoff, or the Haut-goût of a Jeer; and Nothing, not the Eternal Deity himself, can escape the ridicule, when these Saints of a new Stamp take Pen in hand, to assert the Reasonableness of Christianity, to examine Scripture accurately, to explode Mystery, and to blaspheme the Holy and Undivided Trinity.  
It's hard to think they can have any Reverence for true Religion, who writ only for the Diversion of those who have none. And we know what great Designs their late celebrated Champion had; Scripture appeared to him a mere Heap of Contradictions: and to be revenged on those who would not swallow Christianity without Mysteries, he piously resolved to set up Mahumetism in opposition to it; and doubtless he knew very well, that neither Scripture, nor the Church's ancient Confessions of Faith, contained half so many Arguments for the Unitarian Divinity as the Alcoran. Mysteries in Religion are very offensive to some weak Eyes. Men of no Religion may perhaps be thought fittest to write the History of it, they must needs be impartial because they have no Interest in the Subject they treat of: but for Men of lose Lives to decry what they call Priest-craft, for Men of very ordinary Intellectuals to explode Mysteries, and for those of no Principles to take upon 'em to refine and vindicate Christianity, is a Demonstration that Christianity is the best Religion, Mysteries truly useful in it, and the Christian Priesthood the noblest, though, the most invidious, Employment in the World. Priest-craft is grown a Cant-word, used by thoughtless Animals, who seldom know their own meaning in't. Something they're angry at: They cant sleep quietly in their Vices; they can't live peaceably like Heathens in a Christian Country; they can't devour the Patrimony of the Church without opposition, nor set up Atheism without the danger of a Reprimand from some illbred Blackcoat. In short, Religion's against them, and therefore they are resolved to be against it. This should render it the more valuable to sober Men; it should make them study by Practical Holiness, as well as weighty Arguments, to crush the Heads of Atheism and Heresy; to embrace kindly whatever promotes that Holiness, and even to hug THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN, how meanly soever paraphrased, while it strives in the softest way, to impress the sacred Image of our blessed Master on the Hearts of the greatest Priests or Bishops, or of the humblest private Christians.   

ERRATA.  
PAg. 12. l. 14. r. fluttering. p. 13. l. 6. r. nightly. p. 47. l. 17. for this, r. they. p. 60. l. 23. r. presumptuous. p. 69. l. 1. r. disease. p. 57 l. 18. r. shalt. p. 69. l. 8. r. shalt. p. 83. l. 17. r. by thy. p. 86. after l. 11. a blank line is wanting. p. 89. l. 1. after yet put, p. 110. l. 8. r. Secrets. p. 120. l. 15. r. strange; for. p. 155. l. 3. r. Live. p. 186. l. 23. for while r. which. p. 187. l. 18. after live, make! p. 206. l. 20. after can I make, p. 223. l. 12. after ineffectually put! p. 239. l. 17. r. God. p. 245. l. 22. r. my Soul. p. 260. l. 11. after eat put;   

The Christian Pattern paraphrased.  

The First Book.  

I. Vanity of Vanities, all is Vanity.  

WHOer'e to follow me his Steps applies,  
O'er his blessed Head no gloomy Clouds shall rise,  
But Life's pure Light shall fill his Heart, and sparkle in his Eyes.   

Thus spoke our Holy Jesus, and can we  
Ere dream of Light and Immortality,  
That Truth's pure Beams should our dark Fancies clear,  
Unless, like his, our Lives reformed appear?  
O let our Thoughts then on his Actions dwell  
Whose Doctrines Man's divinest Rules excel!  
If his enlightening Spirit guide the Mind,  
'Twill treasured there the secret Manna find,  
Truth, sweet and tasteful as that Angel's Food,  
Not loathed, but always welcomed by the Good.  
If he withdraw, though with the Gospel blest,  
Our Souls are still with lazy Dreams oppressed;  
But when inflamed by him, we try to live  
By those great Rules his heavenly Actions give,  
All clear and plain his sacred Words appear,  
And, to the Heart revealed, are grateful to the Ear.   

What though I could with strange Acuteness pry  
Into the still Mysterious Trinity?  
Only more Woes would me at last surprise,  
Should my proud Soul from thence that dreadful God despise.  
Not lofty Thoughts, nor Words which smoothly roll,  
But Purity, to God endears the Soul.  
Let others curious Definitions spin,  
O let me feel true Grief for Gild within,  
And Floods of unseen Tears purge out my Stains of Sin.   

What though thy apprehensive Mind comprised  
What ere those old Philosophers devised?  
What though thy faithful Memory could recite,  
What ere in Scriptures Holy Penmen write?  
Vain were thy Reach, and vain thy Memory,  
Unless God's Grace and Love were lodged in thee.  
All's Vanity, and more than vainly vain,  
But God's pure Love, and our dear Saviour's Chain;  
We're wise indeed, if we the World despise,  
And grasp at Thrones and Crowns above the Skies.   

It's vain to covet or to trust in Gold,  
It's vain to be to Honour's height extolled;  
Vain are our carnal Lusts and fond Desires,  
Whose Woes but preface Hell's Eternal Fires.  
Vain is the longest Life when vainly spent,  
Life's vain unless on future Glories bend.  
It's vain to love what like a Tempest flies,  
And leave that longed-for Bliss which never never dies.   

Think then on what the wisest Man replied,  
The Eyes and Ears are never satisfied.  
What ere the longing Appetite receives,  
Only a sickly Wish, and tedious Long leaves.  
Turn then thy Soul from wretched Earth below,  
And all thy Thoughts on heavenly Joys bestow;  
So shall a spotless Conscience warm thy Breast,  
And thou securely on thy Saviour's Bosom rest.    

II. Know thyself.  

WOuldst thou know much, my Soul? and wouldst thou be  
From thy great Master's Service free?  
Wouldst thou by curious Rules of Art descry  
The various Motions of the Sky?  
Fond Wretch! the Clown, who but himself can read,  
By that short Lesson will thy soaring Art exceed.   

Know but thyself, thyself thou'lt soon despise,  
Nor to the World's Applauses rise;  
Thy Works, not Arts, shall be severely scanned,  
When all the World in Judgement stand;  
Cease then thy Pains, and never court thy Woes,  
Deceit and Madness still with mighty Learning goes.   

Men puffed with Learning love the pointing Hand,  
And much on swelling Titles stand,  
And spend their careless Hours in empty Toys  
Which ne'er advance their sober Joys.  
But sure He's mad who wondrous Knowledge gains,  
Yet never knows the means to scape infernal Pains!   

Great Words can never fill thy Appetite,  
Great Actions only bring Delight,  
Purge but thyself, then boldly lift thy Face  
To the bright Throne of heavenly Grace.  
Great Sense and Knowledge, where the Practice fails,  
Only the heavier Woes on wretched Souls entails.   

Fear then thy flowing Parts, thy matchless Sense,  
And all thy vast Intelligence:  
Know what thou wilt, thou'lt but the sooner find  
A thousand things have slipped thy Mind;  
A thousand Men whose Names are scarcely known,  
Beyond thy Learning far, and utmost Reach have gone.   

Study thyself! with all exactness know  
How all Affairs within thee go!  
Examine all thy Ways, and soon to thee  
Thy Self the noblest Theme shall be:  
If others thou before thyself prefer,  
Such humble Thoughts express true Wisdom's Character.   

Thou mayst, perhaps, fewer Failures see,  
His Crimes may lie exposed to thee,  
Yet scorn him not, nor think thyself secure,  
Our Steps on Earth are rarely sure.  
Thou stand'st! consider, lest thyself should fall,  
All Men are frail indeed, but thou more frail than all    

III. TRUTH.  

HAppy the Man whom Truth securely guides  
By secret Ways and powerful Influence!  
Happy the Man in whose weak Head resides  
No false Opinion from deceitful Sense!  
But Ignorance would rather choose,  
Than Time in vain Designs abuse.   

We're mad in Arts obscure to spend our Days,  
To shun the Light, and Intricacies chase:  
Where God's Eternal Word the Truth displays,  
We all at once may know, and all embrace;  
Where that once speaks, we safely rest,  
With Peace and Faith unfading blest.   

O thou essential Truth, my Soul unite  
To thee by all the Bonds of sacred Love!  
O thou my Saviour, O my Soul's Delight!  
To whom alone my Passions fiercely move!  
Let Earthly Teachers silent be,  
But speak, O speak dear Lord to me!   

The more within ourselves our Thoughts descend,  
The more we see by God's superior Light:  
Pure Souls to Holy Works more strongly bend,  
To raise God's Honour, and his Acts recite.  
Only our Lust's unconquered kerb  
Our Motions, and our Thoughts disturb.   

The pious Soul those inward Lusts restrains,  
Nor bows to them, but them to Reason bows;  
The brightest Crown the great Self-conqueror gains,  
And by his Conquest daily stronger grows.  
All other Skill's an empty Show,  
And all's imperfect here below.   

Wouldst thou then go to God? not glaring Parts,  
But humble Thoughts can reach his glorious Seat:  
Arts made by God are good; but virtuous Hearts,  
Pure Lives, and lowly Thoughts more truly great:  
And all in fruitless Error die,  
Who more to know than practise try.   

O would a foolish World at last improve  
As much in Goodness as in vain Disputes!  
But thro' what Gloom that subtle Head must move,  
Whose Practice all his godly Talk refutes?  
Who falls, and leaves no Name behind;  
Put, out of Sight, is out of Mind.   

He's truly great, who's great in Charity:  
He's great, who's humble, and can Greatness scorn:  
He's wise, who Worth in none but Christ can see:  
He's learned, who's to Divine Obedience born.  
Tho all inferior Glories fly,  
His balmy Name shall never die.    

iv PRUDENCE.  

WHAT e'er we read, what e'er we hear,  
Let Holy Care with Patience weigh,  
for Truth, alas! we weakly bear,  
But Falsehood gains a mighty Sway.  
The Wise Man knows our faulty State  
To lose Discourse and Gild inclined;  
And always measures things by Weight,  
To no uncertain Tales resigned:  
He'll ne'er run headlong on, nor will he be  
Stiff in his own Conceit, and senseless Bigotry.   

Receive not then each idle Tale,  
Nor all thou hearest to all relate;  
But let a wise Man's Words prevail,  
Above thy own his Counsels rate:  
A Holy Life, a Life refined,  
Owners Godlike Wisdom proves,  
And with Experience fills the Mind,  
And with Divine Contentment moves.  
Where God a lowly Heart a Subject gains,  
There only Prudence thrives, and inward Calmness reigns.    

V Search the Scriptures.  

SEE! Read these Sacred Volumes o'er,  
This wondrous Book; survey!  
Truth in its ancient Springs explore,  
Thy Studies on the mighty Subject stay;  
Perhaps no modish Stuff, no milky Phrase  
Thy sickly Sense may gratify,  
Yet there blessed Truth her Beams displays,  
And all her Treasures lie.   

See, read again! to clear thy Mind,  
The Spirit's Help implore,  
That God's, who first the Book designed,  
Whose Badge the well instructed Penmen wore.  
Instructive Truth in common Language lies,  
In plain and easy Words expressed;  
But Falsehood off like Vapour flies,  
Tho ne'er so gaily dressed.   

Shouldst thou mysterious Language love,  
Or lofty Flights admire,  
Thou'lt meet with Raptures here, above  
What e'er thy own presuming Thoughts inspire.  
Don't yet Devotions humble Style despise,  
But read with calm Attention there:  
Brook the thirsty Lamb supplies,  
Whose Streams are soft and clear.   

Perhaps thou'lt find a Shepherd write,  
A Herdsman prophecy;  
But, if the Spirit all indite,  
Where can the Prejudice against them lie?  
Authority and Learning only He  
On all that Holy Tribe bestows;  
And all thy Studies there should be  
Where Truth sincerely flows.   

If Truth in every Sentence shine,  
And give thee certain Light,  
Thou knowst Truth's Words are all Divine,  
Tho meanest Men her sacred Dictates write.  
The mortal Penmen soon are past, and gone  
To Dust, from whence at first they came;  
Truth claims Eternity alone,  
And still remains the same.   

Thy Wit, thy Learning, and thy Parts  
Perhaps are more than mine;  
But God, who reads our inmost Hearts,  
May on my Soul with greater Favours shine.  
Be thou impartial too, with careful Eyes  
Examine all the Sacred Roll,  
Th' inestimableTreasure prize,  
As thy immortal Soul.   

Wouldst thou in Holy Sense improve?  
Then lay thyself aside,  
All vain and curious Thoughts remove,  
And Self-Conceit, and unbelieving Pride!  
Ask oft, and with submissive Silence weigh  
What Holy Men declared of old;  
Thy Judgements on their Dictates stay,  
And their Directions hold.    

VI There is no Peace to the Wicked.  

THE Man whose wretched Thoughts are fixed below,  
Has lost his Peace;  
On him eternal crowding Mischiefs flow,  
And, like rough Tides, his swelling Cares increase;  
The flattering Fool looks down with scornful Pride  
On others, but with strange Disturbance sees  
How all the wiser World his Plumes deride:  
So Haman, mad and restless, sat  
In all his Pomp and Courtly State,  
While bended Knees  
To Haman's Insolence the pious Jew denied.   

If gripping Avarice the Soul invade,  
His Quiet's lost.  
Himself a Slave in Golden Fetters made,  
And all his mighty Expectations crossed:  
A Storm, which on his Windows breaks, confounds  
His mighty Slumbers with distracting Dreams;  
A Band of Cheats and Thiefs his Bed surrounds,  
Nor can a thousand Bolts and Bars  
 silence his intestine Wars,  
But dismal Gleams  
Of flashing Ruins pierce him with a 1000 Wounds.   

Only the humble Soul, the Soul resigned,  
Is truly blest;  
In him no anxious Fears a Seat can find,  
No Worldly Cares distract his peaceful Breast.  
While grovelling Souls strive, but in vain, to be  
Dismissed from Hellish Force, from Earthy Chains,  
He calmly lives from all Disorders free.  
He, happy Soul! inflamed with Love,  
Pants all, and groans for Joys above;  
He only gains,  
Instead of Cares and Fears, a calm Eternity.    

VII. Worldly Confidence is vain.  
VAin is the Man who puts his Trust  
In worldly Joys, or mouldering Dust:  
Who hates the Mean, or scorns the Poor,  
But stands upon himself secure.  
But God, the Hope of all the Wise,  
Their Weakness and their Wants supplies.  
Don't then on Craft but God depend;  
He'll crush the Proud, the Poor defend.  
Boast not of Wealth, nor mighty Friends;  
What's good from God alone descends.  
Vaunt not thyself, though strong or fair,  
One short Disease may both impair.  
Boast not of Sense, or various Arts,  
Not thou, but God that Sense imparts.  
Others above thyself suppose,  
For He thy Faults and Frailty knows.  
Boast not of Works with lofty Eyes,  
God may, what Man approves, despise.  
If any Virtue lodge in thee,  
Adorn it with Humility.  
From haughty Hearts and scornful Eyes  
Envy and hateful Malice rise;  
Only in humble private Cells  
Unchanging Peace and Safety dwells.   

VIII. Too much Familiarity breeds Contempt.  

ne'er to the Volge unveil thy Heart,  
But to the wise good Man thy Thoughts impart.  
From green young Heads and unknown Strangers fly;  
Fawn not on Wealth, nor near the Palace ply.  
The humble, meek, devout, obliging Man  
Will more instruct thy Soul than such Acquaintance can.   

Court not a single Beauty's Love,  
But in thy Prayers commend 'em all above;  
Thy Soul to holy Meditations give,  
And with thy God in close Communion live.  
Thy Charity to all the World extend,  
But Worlds can scarce afford one faithful useful Friend.   

Sometimes we Men unknown admire,  
And their Acquaintance by report desire,  
But when we see 'em once, our partial Eyes  
Their Garb, their Mien, their downcast Looks despise:  
So when we'd others with our Freedoms charm,  
Our private Faults displayed, their scornful Thoughts alarm.    

IX. It's better to obey than command.  

HE's happier far  
Who, in Life's doubtful War,  
His Teacher's just Commands obeys,  
Than he who others, though with Prudence, sways.  
A 1000 Dangers on the Teacher wait,  
A 1000 Griefs attend his State,  
While the Obedient rest  
With Safety blest.   

Thy Thoughts may be  
Wise in a just Degree,  
But others wiser far may prove,  
And Prudence by the wisest Rules will move.  
It's safer much to take Advice than give,  
And free from Pride he'll safely live,  
Who in his faithful Guides  
Alone confides.    

X. In the Multitude of Words there is Sin.  

LAnguage, the Birth of thoughtful Souls,  
If wisely used, the angry World controls:  
Language a thousand Truths reveals,  
And through the Ears Maeanders gently steals  
Down to the dark Recesses of the Heart,  
And feels and tunes the cheerful Strings  
Of equal Souls; and when it sweetly sings,  
The Sympathetick Spirits in Consort move,  
And each to other mutual Joys impart,  
And taste the softest Notes of all commanding Love.   

But as we feel a jarring Sound,  
When artless Fingers all the Strings confound,  
And flat and sharp, and high and low,  
All jumbled in eternal Discords flow:  
So ill used Language breaks the sweet Consent  
Of Thoughts all tuned to Peace before;  
And the vain Wretch may then, too late, deplore  
The working Mischiefs of his careless Tongue,  
As Pigmies would with wondrous Toils prevent  
The mighty Ruins, rending Mountains roll along.   

My Wits perhaps I highly prise,  
And strait at Heaven my lavish Language flies;  
I all that's good or great abuse,  
And all the Checks of sober Sense refuse,  
Or with vast Floods of native Eloquence,  
Words like a neverfailing Tide  
Off my smooth Tongue with powerful Swiftness slide:  
Yet while I think to rule the captive World,  
And hurry headlong on, deprived of Sense,  
I'm all at once beneath eternal Tortures hurled.   

What though I call my Tongue my own?  
Yet Prudence is by well-weighed Language known;  
But when my Words at random fly,  
Exposed I to a thousand Dangers lie:  
So gentle Floods in Season fertilise  
The gaping Meads and thirsty Plains;  
But constant Storms and everlasting Rains  
The rotting Seeds of useful Plants confound;  
While thro' the Glebe rank Flags or Rushes rise,  
Or squalid Ooze extends a barren Paleness round.   

Think then on God, my Soul, 'tis He  
Who can alone thy Tongue's Director be;  
Talk of thy mighty Maker's Praise,  
And Trophies to his boundless Goodness raise;  
Thy own and others Good with Care advance!  
Treasons from careless Tongues may flow,  
And Murders on the Roots of Treason grow:  
Speak well then, or in humble silence rest;  
Words are exempted from the Strokes of Chance,  
When stifled at their Birth within the thoughtful Breast.    

XI. Peace I leave with you.  

PEace has a charming Name, but still declines,  
The Heart with foreign Cares beset,  
Her God an unintangled Soul assigns  
For her Imperial lasting Seat.  
Blessed are the Poor, for they shall Peace obtain!  
But how can Peace a safe Retreat  
In wand'ring Fancies gain?   

What made the Saints of old contemplative,  
And only heavenly Thoughts pursue?  
What made them with themselves severely strive,  
And always to their God be true?  
Strictly they searched and tried their Ways at home,  
And would their Inward Lusts pursue,  
But never farther room.   

But what are We? poor, cold, unactive things,  
Unused to Wars or Victory:  
Baffled by Sin's imperious Menacing,  
And Slaves to each Infirmity.  
Would we throw off our Chains, and nobly rise,  
Our serious Thoughts engaged might be  
On Bliss above the Skies.   

It's Kinglike sure, uncurbed at home to reign,  
With inward Peace and Freedom blest:  
But where's the Man who dares his Lusts restrain,  
Or purge his own polluted Breast?  
Where's he who dares force through the pinching Gate?  
Or who's with strong Resolves possessed  
The Saints to imitate?   

If but a sudden Storm against me rise,  
My Hopes, alas! are faint and dead;  
Can I to God but lift my faithful Eyes,  
His Wings he'd strait around me spread.  
God loves to be the warring Christians Aid,  
To place the Garland on his Head  
By starry Glories made.   

What though I Hear, Receive, and Fast and Pray,  
In Sackcloth or in Ashes lie?  
Or on my Flesh some Penance roughly lay,  
And counterfeit Humility?  
Such empty outward Shows are only vain,  
Unless the Axe the Root may try,  
And Peace within me reign.   

When I at first believed, my eager Zeal  
With holy Fervours flashed and glowed;  
But I alas! my former Acts repeal,  
My Pains to conquer Sin bestowed.  
Had I my Virgin Love, or Year by Year  
Can I one single Sin unload,  
My Heart might once be clear.   

It's hard to leave a long accustomed way;  
It's hard to break a stubborn Will:  
Sin gets more Strength by our too long Delay;  
And rooted Weeds are hard to kill.  
Rouse then my Soul! resist thy Foes betime:  
Then Joys thy Thoughts enlarged shall fill,  
And thou to Glories climb.    

XII. It's good for me that I have been afflicted.  

HOW vain, how foolish should we prove,  
Should our Prosperity,  
Our Wealth and worldly East improve,  
And everlasting be!  
But when we meet with ruffling Storms,  
And Tempests here below,  
The Danger our wild Thoughts reforms,  
And we the wiser grow.   

If though we walk by virtue's Rules,  
Our Thoughts sincere and true,  
We're persecuted, counted Fools,  
And Death our Steps pursue.  
We'll never fix on fading Earth,  
Nor swell with empty Pride;  
So humble Thoughts will take their Birth,  
From Passions mortified.   

That Man alone is wise, whose Rest  
Is in his God secure;  
Who, when with worldly Woes oppressed,  
Has him a Shelter sure:  
He'll little value Comforts here,  
But will with Faintings groan,  
Till he exalted high appear  
Before his glorious Throne.   

He scorns a fading Life, and longs  
To be from Earth unbound,  
To join with Angels grateful Songs  
In Hallelujahs round.    

XIII. Resist the Devil, and he'll fly from you.  

WHile to this wretched Spot of Earth confined,  
Temptations, Woes, assault my thoughtful Mind,  
The Prince of Darkness walks his constant Rounds,  
And careless Souls with various Arts confounds;  
I'll quickly then in watchful Prayers engage  
To break his black Designs, & check his restless Rage.   

Imperfect I, imperfect all below,  
A thousand Fears, a thousand Sorrows know;  
Old Saints their Heaven through Tribulation found,  
And, after Trials, were with Glories crowned;  
They're sharp, but wholesome Physic for the Soul,  
They teach us Good, and all our secret Lust's control.   

Think then my Soul on spotless Innocence,  
Thy Father's Blessing and secure Defence,  
It's lost, it's gone, a thousand Mischiefs now  
Within thy own deceitful Bosom grow;  
With Heaps on Heaps the Mountain-Surges rise,  
And Sins vast Deep within the raging Tide supplies.   

Hope not to 'scape by flight, the Traitor will  
Go with thee, hang about thee, plague thee still;  
That first, with humble Patience, mortify,  
●hen to thy God for sure Assistance fly;  
Thy Strength, thy Courage, and thy Art is small,  
●●is Aid supports thee best, & breaks thy dreadful Fall.   

Dost thou beneath severe Temptations groan?  
The Kindness then of prudent Counfels own;  
Oft ask the Guides of Souls, and oft inquire  
What Waters best may quench the raging Fire.  
Are others tempted? with the tenderest Hands  
O touch their breeding Wounds, and lose their pinching Bands!   

Couldst thou my Soul but to thyself be true,  
And the sure Steps of steady Faith pursue,  
Thou'dst often live from sharp Temptations free,  
And calm thy Thoughts, and calm thy Sleeps might be;  
But Ships without their Pilots wildly reel,  
And every changing Blast, and every Billow feel.   

Only When by Temptations proved, thou'lt shine  
With brighter Faith, and Passions more divine,  
Thy Truth shall make the gazing World admire,  
And to the same Superior Heat aspire.  
Temptations are thy Test; when bravely passed,  
Thou'lt reach the peaceful Shore, the promised Land at last.   

Watch then my Soul, betimes resist thy Foe,  
Nor let him past the fatal Entrance go!  
Thoughts, Fancies, Pleasure, Motions to, Consent  
Thou mayst, by prudent Vigilance, prevent.  
If to the Devil once thou quit the way,  
He'll quickly enter whole, and like a Tyrant sway.   

God Men by secret Rules of Wisdom tries,  
And when they're tried with needful Strength supplies,  
Preserves from pointed Rocks of blind Despair,  
And looks for Faith and Vows, and fervent Prayer;  
For wondrous Good the last Events ordains,  
And for his Servants sakes Hell's fiercest rage restrains.   

Sometimes the Man, by fierce Temptations tried,  
By heavenly Grace has all their Powers defied;  
Yet sinks beneath a smaller Force, and shows  
What Weakness on deserted Nature grows;  
To batter down our Pride, and make us be  
Entire Dependants on a stronger Deity.   

Down then my Soul! and God's Almighty Hand  
Shall raise thee soon, and make thee firmer stand;  
Tho Sorrows pierce thee thro', thy sacred Light  
Shall flash more lively, and shall shine more bright.  
The Ship in Calms a Novice safely steers,  
The skilful Pilot's Art in roughest Storms appears.    

XIV. Judge not.  

INto thyself OH turn thy Eyes!  
For, who himself severely tries,  
A mighty Task shall find,  
Of Gild a thousand fertile Seeds,  
Of Sins a thousand fatal Breeds  
Corrupt his careless Mind.   

Purge then thyself the first; for He  
Who will on others curious be,  
And in their Bosoms pry,  
Through Prejudice must oft mistake,  
And oft the Rules of Truth forsake,  
And cast his Reason by.   

He'll oft the noblest Acts pursue  
With Censure, where Applause is due;  
But, in a nearer Case,  
He'll love himself too well, and hate  
To ruffle his internal State,  
And his own Failings trace.   

Some wretched Inmate dwells within,  
Some secret, flattering, darling Sin  
Our partial Reason blinds:  
Our Vices thence our Virtues seems,  
And we ourselves for Crimes esteem,  
In our distempered Minds.   

It's hard to quit our ancient Ways  
Where Lust its gaudy Wings displays:  
And with the clearest Light,  
When e'er we walk abroad, we see;  
But when within ourselves we'd be,  
We're lost in gloomy Night.    

XV. Let all your Works be done with Charity.  

O Never let inferior Love  
Thy Fancy move!  
Nor worldly Interests bend thy Will  
To practise ill!  
Good Works may better Works excite,  
But ne'er should be deserted quite.   

Crowned all our outward Works must be  
With Charity;  
Tho small, in Value then they'll rise  
Among the Wise:  
The God above observes in you,  
How well, and not how much you do.   

His Actions will the greatest prove  
Who most can love;  
His Actions shine above the rest  
Who acts the best:  
He acts the best who prefers still  
The public Good to private Will.   

Some talk of Charity, but try  
To thrust it by,  
Lust, Will, Convenience or Reward  
They most regard;  
He whom true Charity inspires,  
God's Glory, not his own, desires.   

He envies none, nor would, by choice,  
Alone rejoice;  
And looks for real Good from none  
But God alone:  
Nor shall the World by him be named,  
When thus with heavenly Loves inflamed.    

XVI. Bear ye one another's Burdens.  

DOST thou a Blemish in thyself descry?  
Support it humbly; God resolves to try  
Thy Patience so;  
Patience shines most when most severely proved,  
Yet mayst thou pray to have thy Griefs removed,  
Or that Grace may more largely to support thee flow.  
Dost thou another's sinful Failures view?  
Twice, thrice advise him; if he still pursue  
His senseless Ways,  
Leave him to God; He'll all His Thoughts fulfil,  
And make His Creatures prosecute His Will  
And make their very Madness more advance his Praise,   

That thou mayst others Follies calmly bear,  
Think what thy own, thy inward Failures are;  
How great thy Sins!  
Canst thou not then thy Bosom-Lusts restrain,  
And yet of others Stubborness complain?  
He who would others mend, best at himself gins.   

We'd have our Neighbours lashed, our Neighbours reigned,  
But hate to be ourselves to Rules restrained,  
So just are we,  
So much ourselves we more than others love;  
Yet, should the World around us perfect prove,  
What would our Sufferings then for God or Goodness be!   

But God with Wisdom tempers all Affairs,  
And makes us toil beneath our mutual Cares,  
That while we find  
None faultless, none without a Burden, none  
To perfect Strength or perfect Wisdom grown,  
We'd be to Pity more, & more to Love inclined.   

Comfort, Advice, Support, Instruction so  
Should from our sympathising Friendship flow.  
In darkest Night  
Stars shine the brightest, and our Woes declare,  
Only how frail our Constitutions are,  
But not to Frailty more, or weak Designs invite.    

XVII. Be ye followers of me, as dear Children.  

HOW mean, how trifling are our Lives, compared  
With those of glorious Heroes gone before!  
Whose wondrous Works their wondrous Love declared,  
And all the Badges of their Matter wore;  
Their Saviour's Friends; for Life or Death prepared,  
Who all th' Extremes of Thirst & Hunger bore,  
Who cold & bare, in watchful Fast spent,  
On Prayers and holy Meditations bend,  
Through all the cruel Scorns of barbarous Tyrants went.   

What Tongue, though tipped with flowing Eloquence,  
Can all those mighty Woes and Pains unfold?  
Which great Apostles in the Truth's defence,  
Martyrs and Confessors endured of old?  
Those Tortures laid on Virgin-Innocence,  
Modest as Babes, as Men in Sufferings bold;  
They'd all their dear Redeemer's Footsteps trace,  
And in the Furies of their heavenly Race  
Made Earth and Life itself to Love resign the place.   

O how they lived, to Woods and Caves confined,  
With tedious and severe Temptations pressed!  
How when to Satan's Buffet resigned,  
Their fervent Prayers were to their Lord addressed!  
How was their Flesh with rigid Fast pined,  
Their Souls with growing Zeal and Ardour blest!  
Fierce on their Sins, in their Intentions pure,  
They'd Night and Day in Prayers and Praise endure;  
Nor could their Foes their Minds from inward Prayers allure.   

They all their Hours to vast Advantage spent,  
And all too little for their Maker thought,  
And, on sublimer Contemplations bend,  
They oft their very needful Food forgot:  
Wealth, Honours, Places, Friends with free consent  
They quitted for the sweet Celestial Draught;  
They grudged their Minutes on themselves bestowed,  
And, disincumbred from each earthly Load,  
Their Wealth was Grace and Goodness, and a smiling God.   

Strange to the World, and strange to all below,  
They grew the great Privadoes of the Skies;  
Mean to themselves, mean to the World they'd show,  
But dear and priceful in their Master's Eyes.  
Humble, Obedient, Patiented, Kind they'd grow,  
And thence in Grace and Godlike Virtues rise;  
They great Examples to Believers stood,  
And more should move us to advance in Good  
Than to sink down in Sloth, the Lukewarm lazy Brood.   

What holy Zeal our Priests adorned of old!  
What warm Devotions, what prevailing Prayers!  
How strongly they'd the Race of Virtues hold!  
What Discipline suppressed the rising Tares!  
How had the Shepherds of the sacred Fold,  
In Service and Respect their constant Shares!  
How Great, how Good they were, their Steps descry;  
Beneath their Feet the conquered World could lie,  
And from their powerful Faith Hell's great Commander fly.   

He's now a Saint who sins but privately,  
And who a while the Yoke of Christ can bear;  
A Saint who won't with lewdest Sinners vie,  
Or with the Murderer or Adulterer share:  
A Saint who weekly can the Church supply,  
And for the Fleece, the Flock neglected, care,  
Ah Sloth, Ah Negligence, Ah want of Heat!  
O may I ne'er myself or Hearers cheat,  
But all the noblest Cares of ancient Saints repeat!   

I'm sure our public Sins are greater far  
Than those amassed from every Age before;  
I'm sure we're called to bear a fiercer War  
Than that which all our great Forefathers bore;  
I'm sure our Zeal and earnest Labours are  
Too weak, and can't our ruin'd Faith restore.  
But, O dear God, my Heart, my Lips unseal;  
So I thy Bread to all thy Flock shall deal,  
And to a careless World thy dreadful Truths reveal!    

XVIII. The Priest.  

I Took the Charge of Souls, and now must shine  
As Flambeaus in a gloomy Night,  
With clear and comfortable Light,  
My inward Garb like that without divine.  
God views my Actions o'er, and he  
Quite through my Reins, quite through my Heart can see;  
I then must be as Angels pure,  
If I'd that dreadful Test, those piercing Eyes endure.   

When first I took these Robes, dear Lord, I gave  
Myself, my Life, my All to thee!  
O may my Oaths repeated be,  
And I my sacred Master's faithful Slave!  
My Labours past are Trifling all,  
My Services, alas! my Toils are small;  
Help me my God, assist me now!  
And I'll with utmost Zeal perform my sacred Vow.   

I now must Pray, Praise, Teach, invite the Guests,  
(A wretched, faithless, hungry Crew)  
From starving and Damnation due,  
Freely to feed at thy immortal Feasts.  
But, Lord, I droop, I sink, I fail,  
Sloth, Fear, Distrust on all my Thoughts prevail,  
My Strength is weak, my Wisdom slow,  
On me, dear God, thy Strength, thy guiding Grace bestow!   

If I a while my constant Duties leave  
To visit mourning Souls, or those  
Whom God on Beds of Sickness throws,  
I still the Meed of Charity receive.  
But if, ungirt or lazy, I  
From public or from private Duties fly,  
I, to oblige a Lust, resign  
Myself to endless Flames, and quit Rewards divine.   

That I may to the World a Light appear,  
I'll search my Conscience throughly o'er,  
My Sins to God and Man explore,  
And be each Day on all my Crimes severe.  
I'll all Hell's subtle Arts withstand,  
My sensual Thoughts, my craving Lust's command,  
Read, Writ, Pray, Praise, or Meditate,  
And still with holy Works Hell's fiery Darts rebate.   

In public Duties I'll with fervent Care  
To others an Example be,  
But still without Hypocrisy,  
And with my Voice to God exalt my Prayer:  
But when between my God and me  
Alone, the secret Intercourse should be,  
Noise my Devotions shan't betray,  
But in my Closet I'll with secret Murmurs pray.   

Some Holy Fasts, some Feasts appointed stand  
Designed for holy Exercise,  
For raptured Joys, or humble Cries,  
And should our Souls with solemn Aw command.  
I'll in Devotion daily live,  
And all my Life to pious Practice give;  
But for such Times I'll more prepare,  
And on Religion then attend with warmer Care.   

On these my God was Born, on these he Died,  
On these he Risen, on these, in Flame,  
On us the Spirit gently came,  
On these their Lord his valiant Martyrs tried.  
Up then my Soul! awake! arise!  
Reach towered the Goal, grasp at thy kindred Skies!  
I shall, found so employed, be blest,  
And in a nobler Trust and fuller Glories rest.    

XIX. O that I had Wings like a Dove!  

ENough, enough in this vain World I find  
To disengage my wand'ring Mind;  
To wean me from the Joys below,  
And Anchoret or Hermit grow.  
A thousand Follies here assault me round,  
A thousand noisy Tales my Thoughts confound;  
I want a little time for me  
Of Silence and of Privacy,  
Where I my humble Heart might raise  
To sing my great Creator's lofty Praise,  
And there, with undiscovered Tears, begin  
To cleanse myself from hateful Sin.   

Fain would I meditate on what's to come  
A while before I'm summoned home:  
Fain would I exercise my Mind  
A while on that long Life behind.  
How should I act? Blessed Saints of old withdrew  
To Woods, and Rocks, and Caves from human View;  
There they enjoyed themselves, and there,  
With humble Prayers, and Lives severe,  
Had quiet Sleeps and peaceful Dreams,  
And Virtues were their lively Fancies Themes;  
There they conversed with God, and learned to dwell  
With him who was Invisible.   

But what are meaner Saints? My Saviour too  
From noisy Crowds to Mountains flew,  
And there in lonesome Silence prayed,  
And thence his Heavenly Sermons made.  
Would I with him to just Perfection rise?  
With Truth forgot the careless World surprise?  
He who a while reserved has been,  
May be with greater Safety seen.  
He safely speaks who Silence chose,  
He governs best who best Subjection knows.  
Obedience is by him most kindly nursed,  
Who was himself obedient first.   

When thro' a lonesome, wild, or silent Grove,  
Secured by Innocence, I rove,  
There where no bloody Tyrant's reign,  
Nor cruel wrested Laws restrain,  
Where I sole King my self at large command,  
And only at my own Tribunal stand;  
Yet my Creator's every where,  
And he's my holy Guardian there;  
He's still my Fear, my Master still,  
And I his Laws with utmost Care fulfil.  
No holy Hermit in his Cell can lie  
More humble, more devout than I   

Yet though I rest or wander where I please,  
Temptations oft upon me seize;  
Tho parted from the noisy Rout,  
Hell's Gloomy Prince can find me out;  
Nor could my Saviour from his Strokes be free  
When in his solitary Privacy:  
Yet when alone I spend my Time  
In Ecstasies and Fights sublime,  
And dream, Celestial Visions roll  
In glorious Order thro' my raptured Soul;  
Temptations may redeem my languid Sense  
From Pride and sinful Confidence.   

O could I quit the World, and worldly Toys,  
It's vain Solicitudes and Joys,  
How would my harmless Conscience rest  
All quiet in my peaceful Breast!  
But can I e'er to such Attainments rise,  
Till Grief for Sin break thro' my mournful Eyes?  
Till to my lustful Follies I  
At thousand bleeding Wounds can die?  
And in my humble private Cell  
Long with myself in silent Sorrows dwell?  
So I indeed above the World below  
May rise, and better, stronger grow.   

When from my Lord the baffled Fiend retired,  
And all his cruel Hopes expired,  
Convinced his deadly Enemy,  
True God, not Man alone must be,  
Strait at his Feet Angelic Armies kneeled  
With Hymns of Praise for that triumphant Field:  
So when in private Silence I  
My hellish Tempter's Arts defy,  
And Scripture-Light, and constant Tears  
Wash out my Stains, and guide my fading Years:  
My God will my endeared Companion be,  
And Angels always wait on me.   

What can I gain below but empty Toys,  
A wretched World and sensual Joys?  
Where all to ruin and betray,  
Black Lusts their horrid Charms display;  
Where shortlived Joys to tedious Woes succeed,  
And Terrors on the wounded Conscience feed.  
Were all things mine, that All would be  
But visionary Vanity.  
Look up my Soul then! Pardon crave!  
And let vain Men their vainer Long have;  
Be Christ but thine, his Peace around thee dwell,  
Thou'lt love the darkest Cave, and hug the loneliest Cell.    

XX. A broken and a contrite Heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.  

Wouldst thou improve, my Soul? With Fear  
Before thy God's all-piercing Eyes appear!  
Retrench thy Mirth, thy wand'ring Sense restrain,  
Esteem a contrite Heart thy noblest Gain;  
Contrition that vast Treasure shows,  
Which vain Desires and careless Manners lose:  
It's strange that thoughtless Men can bear  
Such Shows of Mirth when wretched Exiles here,  
And such dire Woes, such mighty Dangers near.   

Fools oft, with an undecent Grin,  
Throw Ashes o'er those glowing Coals within,  
And fain would with an ill-timed Laughter hid  
Those cruel Pangs their tortured Souls divide.  
Give me, when with true Mirth I'm blest,  
A peaceful Conscience in a peaceful Breast.  
Happy's the Man who mourning goes,  
Who off the Weight of guilty Conscience throws,  
And can his Soul to holy Grief compose!   

ne'er for a Mass of Business strive,  
Nor into great men's dangerous Secrets dive;  
Look first at home, first give thy Counsels there,  
And ne'er cast down for worldly Frowns appear.  
Grieve for thy Sins against thy God,  
Or when awry thy wand'ring Steps have trod:  
Crosses on Earth are better far  
Than all that Mirth our foolish Thoughts prepare,  
When we build Castles in the fleeting Air.   

For Joys, I'll sow the fruitful Seed,  
And with salt Tears the swelling Ocean feed,  
Till rising Tides with briny Floods shall kill  
Those noisome Weeds which now my Fancy fill.  
That happy Desolation passed,  
Fresh springing Joys shall crown my Soul at last:  
Tears from the Sense of Sin will rise,  
Contrition send the failing Springs supplies,  
And draw sweet Dews of Comfort from the Skies.   

Think how thy Life like Lightning flies,  
How every Hour thy languid Nature dies:  
Think on those dreadful Pains of Hell beneath,  
Those lingering Tortures, that immortal Death.  
And wouldst thou hug the Viper still,  
Whose deadly Sting will all thy Comforts kill?  
Wipe off thy Sins at last for Shame,  
In thy cold Breast blow up the sacred Flame,  
And thy reforming Life by Deeds reformed proclaim.    

XXI. Man is born to Trouble us the Sparks fly upward.  

WEll then! I've searched the wretched World around,  
I've searched it thro', and nothing else have found  
But constant Doubts and constant Woes;  
I see how miserable others are,  
I feel myself just lost in black Despair,  
While endless Doubts my tedious Years compose.  
I've seen a mighty Prince enthroned,  
His Head with Gems embraced,  
By suppliant crowding Vassals owned,  
And all th' Applauses of the Vulgar graced;  
Yet Cares sat thicker on his clouded Brows  
Than Diamonds, and racked his tortured Soul;  
Dark Plots could all his midnight Slumbers rouse,  
And Rebels all his glaring Bliss control.  
But he who to his Maker flies  
Above these earthly Fears, above the World can rise.   

Yet thoughtless Fools the pompous World adore,  
And only covet its perplexing Store,  
And raise, alas! their envious Eyes  
To dunghill Worms with mighty Treasures blest,  
To worthless Sots with gaudy Glories dressed,  
Or who to Honours, or to Sceptres rise.  
But he who's envied, ne'er can find  
That strange Felicity,  
But growing Cares distract his Mind,  
And Beggars more enjoy themselves than he.  
My very Life's but one extended Woe,  
My Meat, my Drink, my Sleep, my waking Hours,  
My Rest, my Labours all uneasy grow,  
And baffle all my Soul's superior Powers.  
Can I Love's holy Flames attain,  
Life would be vile to me, and Life's Corruptions vain.   

woe to the Wretch whose Dulness ne'er could know  
The Miseries of fading Life below!  
woe to the Wretch, whose sordid Soul,  
For mean and transitory Joys, can slight  
The blissful Regions of immortal Light,  
And still on Earth in common Ordure roll!  
Ah mad, ah unbelieving Fools!  
In carnal Wisdom great;  
In better things mere senseless Tools;  
Who drudge, but ne'er can find the monstrous  
But, far more wise, those holy Saints of old  
Looked on their sinking Lives with nobler Scorn,  
Their Expectations, as their Faith, grown bold,  
To Heaven on Wings of bright Affection born;  
Nor could the Toys which here they saw,  
Their large aspiring Souls from unseen Glories draw.   

Rise then my Soul, no more thy Task delay,  
Employ the present Light, the certain Day;  
Up! rife! put off the Day no more!  
Now, now's the time to work, the time to fight,  
The Time to set thy Thoughts and Actions right;  
Delays can but increase the dreadful Score.  
What though fierce Flames and angry Seas  
Oppose thy sacred Rest?  
O let no darling Error seize,  
Or tyrannize within thy captive Breast!  
Shake off thy Sloth for shame! attack this Foe!  
Throw off thy Sins, and Innocence pursue;  
'Twas only Sin diseased our Lives below,  
And robbed us of our Crowns and Garlands due.  
O on thy Maker's Mercy wait,  
Till he thy Living Death to Deathless Life translate!   

Think o'er thy State on Earth! How strangely frail,  
How soon Hell's Follies o'er thy Thoughts prevail;  
To day perhaps thy Lips confess  
Thy mighty Sins with Floods of streaming Tears,  
Tomorrow Hell his sanguine Trophies rears,  
And Sins again thy weak Resolves oppress:  
O then with humble Meekness all  
Thy yielding Weakness see,  
How that in one short Hour may fall,  
Which might the Work of toiling Ages be!  
Ah wretched I, if grown so quickly cold!  
Ah wretched I, to drowse in careless Rest,  
As if secure I could the Garland hold,  
Tho not with one poor Grain of Goodness blest!  
Up! try the mighty Work again,  
If Hopes of bettering Life or stronger Grace remain!    

XXII. It is appointed for all Men once to die.  

SEE where the naked Mormo stands!  
See how his pointed Dart the World commands!  
The meager Sceleton with dismal Glare,  
Shoots thro' the pestilential Air,  
Lays Heaps on Heaps around, and I  
Before to morrow's Sun may die.  
Dull that I am! hardhearted Wretch to dream  
Of lasting Joys and Pleasures here!  
Shine dearest God and let one glorious Beam  
Of heavenly Light my gloomy Conscience clear!  
I so prepared for Death may be,  
And from my Sins, and from thy Anger free.   

To Day I'm unprepared I know,  
But shall I fit for Death to Morrow grow?  
To Morrow's but a wild uncertain thing,  
And may as little Wisdom bring;  
Nor can the longest Life be sure  
It can repenting Thoughts procure.  
I've been a Christian long, but still retain  
An unreform'd unchristian Mind:  
Death may be dreadful, and attending Pain,  
But I more Woes in longer Life may find;  
O may I now with daily Care,  
And watchful Eyes, for Death foreseen prepare!   

To day my youthful Neighbour died,  
And for Death's Summons I'll to day provide:  
I see to day, but can't be sure my Sight  
Shall reach the next approaching Night:  
I see the Night, but never may  
Survive to meet the dawning Day.  
O mayn't a sudden Death my Soul surprise  
When it goes off its needful Guard!  
Death with an unimagined Swiftness flies,  
No Art can its impetuous Wings retard;  
Then I an inward Change may see,  
And Sloth, though past, my greatest Grief may be.   

I'm truly Wife and Blest, if I  
Live but as well as I could wish to die.  
If my great Soul could earthly Joys despise,  
And to the Heights of Virtue rise;  
If I to Discipline could bow,  
And by my Works Repentance show;  
Can I to God with swift Obedience fly,  
And my dear wretched Self abjure;  
Can I but for my blessed Redeemer die,  
And for his Love the Racks and Flames endure;  
Much I, while blest with Health, may do,  
But can't in Death those happy Works pursue.   

Perhaps I think a Sickness might  
Reform my Manners, and enlarge my Sight;  
Make me review myself, and strait repent,  
And be at once an Innocent:  
Yet I in Sickness oft have prayed,  
A thousand solemn Vows I've made:  
But still I live the same; no more improved  
Than modish Travellers may come,  
Who have long Years through many Country's roved,  
And only brought their shameless Vice's home.  
Now, now's the time, the welcome Day,  
O don't for better Season vainly stay!   

Rouse then my Soul! thy Thoughts engage  
On what thy daily Weaknesses presage!  
Fears for a time an Antidote may prove,  
And thy eternal Fears remove;  
Thy Fears of present Death prevent  
Thy everlasting Punishment.  
Live now, that, when his Summons Death shall give,  
We to unfading Joys may fly;  
Die to the World, that we to Christ may live,  
And thou uncloged ascend above the Sky:  
Let's now the rebel Flesh chastise,  
That we may then with blessed Assurance rise.   

What, canst thou dream of lengthening Days,  
When nothing here below unalter'd stays?  
How many have those foolish hopes deceived,  
Of Breath by sudden Strokes bereaved!  
This Man by some swift Bullet dies,  
That drowned beneath the Ocean lies,  
This dashed in pieces, that, just choked, expires,  
Another's in his Sports destroyed;  
Sword, Plagues, attempted Thefts, outrageous Fires  
Make all their Dreams and vast Intendments void:  
So Life an empty Shadow flies,  
And when Death summons, languid Nature dies.   

Rouse then at last! be active now,  
Thy Neck to thy Celestial Labours bow!  
When Death once parts us two, our Hopes are vain  
New Overtures of Grace to gain;  
And, if our own Endeavours fail,  
The Prayers of others can't prevail.  
Now, while Time lasts, grasp at Eternal Wealth,  
Now, now increase thy sacred Store!  
Secure betimes thy own Immortal Health,  
Thy God, thy Saviour, and his Aids implore;  
And when thou shalt thy Fetters leave,  
They'll thou to thy great Master's Joys receive.   

Live then, but as a Stranger, here!  
And unconcerned with worldly things appear!  
Be light, be free from Cares! above the Skies  
O raise thy long-expecting Eyes!  
That, when thy Days on Earth are past,  
Thy Mansions there may ever last.  
With Prayers, with flowing Tears O seek the Place  
Where Glories all their Beams display;  
With endless Groans O seek thy Saviour's Face,  
And upward soar to reach that gladsome Day,  
Where thou with Saints shalt rest above,  
Wrapped in th' Embraces of Eternal Love.    

XXIII. And after that the Judgement.  

CAnst thou, Ah wretched Sinner! canst thou still  
Obey thy own distempered Will?  
Canst thou, who fearest an angry Prince's Brow,  
Thyself in Sins against thy Lord allow?  
Hark, the dreadful Trumpets sound!  
How they rend the trembling Ground!  
Hark how pale Ghosts & Fiends, with dismal Shrieks & Cries,  
From their Infernal Caverns rise,  
And look with Horror on the flaming Sky,  
And to the rolling Rocks & tumbling Hills for Shelter fly!  
See where obedient Angels raise the Bar  
Where God his great Assizes holds,  
Who sees and scans thy private Sins as far  
As both the Poles in sunder are,  
Where neither Bribes nor feigned Excuse  
Can blind the Judge, or Wisdom's Search abuse,  
While his Impartial Doom thy monstrous Gild unfolds.   

What wouldst thou, helpless Creature, do?  
What Methods would thy thoughtless Soul pursue?  
Canst thou alone escape the dreadful Test?  
Or in thy Sins, without disturbance, rest?  
Or will some subtle Advocate appear,  
And plead for, and acquit thee there?  
Poor silly Hopes, and senseless Dreams!  
On Earth thy humble Cries, thy speaking Tears  
May reach thy mighty Maker's Ears;  
Repentance, here begun betimes,  
May cleanse thy ingrained Sins, thy foulest Crimes,  
But Death for ever bars bright Mercy's smiling Beams.   

Thinkest thou the gloomy Flames of darksome Hell  
Will only Purgatory prove?  
And when thy Soul in endless Chains shall dwell,  
Thy crying Gild, thy endless Chains remove?  
It's true indeed, thy Sufferings there  
Shall dark and hideous as thy Sins appear;  
Insatiate Fiends there with their pointed Prongs,  
And fiery Goads, and burning Tongues  
Shall rouse thy tortured Soul:  
Thy Glutton Appetite the Pangs shall feel  
Of Thirst and Hunger; Whips of flaming Steel  
Shall all thy barbarous Thoughts control;  
Black Streams of burning Pitch, and purple Flame  
Shall there the Wanton Lecher tame;  
The Envious Wretch, with many a painful Scowl  
Thro the waste Shades of hellish Torments howl:  
But still, O still shall thy distracted Soul  
In never-wasting Flames and livid Sulphur roll.   

But what are Flames and Sulphur to  
Those long unutterable Pains  
To damned Delinquents due?  
Hot Streams may fail, and bluest Flames expire,  
But Hell's Immortal Rack disdains  
The Bounds of Time; nor canst thou dream  
How inconceivably extreme  
The Torments are from Intellectual Fire.  
Think, if thou canst, O think what dreadful weight  
Almighty Fury on a Ghost may fling!  
Think with what Woes a dark despairing State  
Must the distracted Conscience sting!  
There Woes bring Woes, and Tortures Tortures breed,  
And Pains and Anguish Pains and Anguish feed,  
Plagues follow Plagues, Curses on Curies' roar,  
Rage blows up Fury, though inflamed the more;  
Horrors on Horrors tumble, Hells on Hells;  
And the sad Soul, firstborn of Light,  
Once with internal Glories bright,  
In heavy, thickening, endless Darkness dwells.   

No short-lived Beam can ever find the way  
To tortured Souls from their Congenial Day;  
No Glimpse of Joy in Hell can find a room,  
Or rend th' impenetrable Gloom;  
No Rest, no Respite, not one single Now,  
Can Vengeance for their Ease allow;  
The damned Associates can't one Thought engage  
In Prayers or Wishes for an end of Woes;  
No Plant of Hope in that waste Region grows,  
But Rage to Malice, Malice turns to Rage.  
Can Days, could Months, could rolling Years  
Can Time's last running Sands one Moment show  
From whence one Drop of Hope might flow,  
The blackest Fiend might wipe his scalding Tears;  
But, when a thousand fatal Years are told,  
Ten thousand more are still for Pains enroled,  
Millions of Millions then enhance the Score,  
And when they're past, but clear the way for more,  
For ever still that dismal Hell must be,  
And vast as the wide Bounds of vast Eternity.   

What tho Repentance now to thee  
A tedious Work appears?  
In Hell one Minute shall more dreadful be  
Than all the Penance of a thousand Years.  
Repent, poor Sinner, then! no more delay!  
No more put off the necessary Day!  
So thou among the Blessed at last shall stand,  
And like a Judge the trembling World command;  
Tho mean on Earth, and despicably poor,  
The Great, the Proud shall there thy Doom endure.  
Then those who scorned thy Virtues here,  
Shall at the Bar confused appear,  
Admire thy Wisdom, and their own despise,  
Which more a Bubble than a Crown could prise;  
Thy Griefs shall then be acceptable found,  
With Favours, as with Patience crowned,  
A Conscience pure, obedient, innocent,  
A Soul with humblest things content,  
Devotion, holy Works shall serve thee more  
Than worldly Wit, or all the Miser's Store;  
Thy Saviour gained, shall more of Blessings bring  
Than all the Joys which here from mighty Conquests spring.   

Shouldst thou, poor Wretch, in Ease and Wealth increase,  
And all the Smiles of flattering Peace;  
Should Sycophants beneath thy Footstool bow,  
And all their Service to thy Greatness vow,  
What Blessing's this when thou shalt quit the Field,  
And Life to Death's Approaches yield?  
What's Wealth within the silent Grave?  
Or who's the Dead-man's humble Slave?  
Only thy Love to God the Test can bear,  
All other Treasures fly like empty Air;  
That Love pulls out Death's mortal Sting,  
Death can't to thee the Fears of Vengeance bring;  
Thou canst, unmoved, the Bar and Pit behold  
In thy Redeemer's Merits bold.  
Approach thy Judge, and with a smiling Brow  
Before his awful Glories bow  
Till by thy Saviour's tenderest Loves embraced  
With Robes of flowing Joys, and Crowns of Glory graced.    

XXIV. Cease to do Evil, learn to do Well.  

I To my Lord have now myself resigned,  
His Service has engaged my thoughtful Mind:  
I've broke the Charms of this deceitful World,  
No more in common Storms or Tempests hurled;  
Rise then my Soul! O rise to things above!  
O serve thy Lord with watchful fervent Love!  
Vain are thy Vows, thy best Resolves are vain,  
If thou thy old, thy grovelling Thoughts retain:  
On Zeal's bright Wings O to his Bosom fly,  
With Angel-Bands in cheerful Service vie;  
Let no Resistance beat thy Courage down,  
Take up the Cross, and thou shalt gain the Crown.  
Here thou may'st mourn, there Joys eternal flow;  
Work here, there Peace and boundless Pleasures grow.  
Be thou, my Soul, to sacred Practice true,  
He'll more than pay the promised Glories due.  
Rouse, rouse thy Hopes, if thou the Wreath wouldst wear;  
But thy Presumption still repress with humblest Fear.   

Perhaps uncertain Doubts distract thee here  
To know if thou in Good shalt persevere,  
That is, Thou'dst have some Oracle declare  
How weak thy Thoughts, how vain thy Fancies are.  
But, were thy Question throughly satisfied,  
How wouldst thou then thy flowing time divide?  
Wouldst thou be careful? should thy Industry  
More active then, or more illustrious be?  
Do now the same; sweet Comforts then shall rise,  
And Strength inform thee from the smiling Skies:  
Leave future things to God's superior Care,  
And strive to know what his Prescriptions are:  
Search through his Laws, and all thy Life shall be  
Divine, and thou from Fears and torturing Passions free.   

What though the Work be hard, the Task severe,  
And various Terrors round Heaven's Ways appear?  
He's only brave who conquers powerful Foes,  
And to a Throne thro' mighty Dangers goes.  
To curb thyself, the noblest Conquest yields;  
He who himself subdues, may win a thousand Fields.   

What though thy Sins are few, thy Passions low?  
O don't presumptions thence or lazy grow!  
Another pressed with head strong Passions may  
Fight bravely thro', and gain a glorious Day,  
While thy unhappy slothful Temper fails,  
And Hell too soon on all thy Hopes prevails:  
These things may to thy Reformation tend,  
If thou thy vicious Nature strongly bend  
To better Ways, or with a fervent Heat  
Contendst to be in rarest Virtues great;  
But chief from those noted Vices fly,  
Which, in another seen, offend thy tender Eye.   

Look out my Soul for good! look all around,  
And imitate the great Example found.  
From others Sins with utmost Caution fly,  
To mend thy own thy utmost Cares apply:  
Remember others Eyes are sharp as thine.  
How sweet's the Life when heavenly Discipline  
Christ's zealously devout Professors guides,  
And o'er their Works and o'er their Hearts presides!  
While Sorrows break the pious Heart to see  
The vile and treacherous Arts of cursed Hypocrisy.   

Call o'er thy Name, that Saviour's Acts revise  
Who for thy Sins could fall a Sacrifice;  
Read his dear spotless Life, and read with Shame  
How short thou fallest of that Illustrious Name,  
How long a Christian, but how far from Christ,  
How soon by Hell to Hellish Crimes enticed;  
Read but his Life and Death devoutly o'er,  
'Twill soon appear how good, how vast thy Store;  
The Holy Jesus all thy Works will bless,  
Jesus thy Thoughts, thy Words, thy All possess:  
O were that dear, that dying Saviour mine,  
How brightly would my Will, my Sacred Learning shine!   

The zealous Christian with Submission bears  
That Weight wherein his Matter's Hand appears;  
While deep Afflictions on Afflictions roll  
With mighty Woes around the lukewarm Soul;  
No inward Comfort warms his gloomy Breast,  
But with vast Loads of inward Gild oppressed,  
He seeks for holy Luxury and Ease,  
But can't his bleeding Wounds, his inward Pangs appease.   

How lived those holy Saints renowned of old,  
In Sacred Fame's Eternal Sheets enroled?  
In private all, with meanest Food content;  
Their Days in Watch and in Labours spent:  
Rough Hair their tender Bodies mortified,  
Humble within, and free without from Pride,  
Early and late their Prayers attacked the Skies,  
Much was their Reading, much their Exercise,  
Whole Nights they'd oft in Sacred Praises spend,  
Whole Days with Holy Fasts their Lord attend.  
And canst thou all their great Examples find,  
And be to Madness still, or lazy Sloth inclined?   

O were we free from all Encumbrance here,  
Our God would in our Hearts and Lives appear!  
From Sleep, from Thirst, from griping Hunger free,  
We'd consecrate ourselves, dear Lord, to thee.  
'Twere far more happy so to spend our Days,  
Than Trophies to our mouldering Flesh to raise;  
Too rarely now Divine Delights we taste,  
The Holy Banquet then shall ever, ever last.   

When we can Creature-Comforts once despise,  
God will be precious in our longing Eyes,  
We soon shall smile at all Events below,  
Our Pleasures and our Griefs with Temper flow;  
God will be All in All, supremely blest,  
Our constant Hope and our Eternal Rest,  
With whom there's nothing present, past, to come,  
But one eternal Now completes the boundless Sum.   

Think oft of Death; that Time once past no more  
Returns; no Cares can flying Age restore:  
If thou growst cold, my Soul, the Plague's begun,  
Thy Joys are ruined, and thy Hopes undone;  
But if thy Zeal grows hot, thou'lt purchase Peace,  
Thy Loves shall flourish, and thy Grace increase:  
Zeal makes thee fit for all things, makes thee thrive,  
And keeps thy Courage and thy Hopes alive.  
More Honour he who rules his Passion gains  
Than he who Sceptres, or who Crowns obtains.  
Small Sins indulged rise to a greater Height;  
A Day well spent brings on a joyful Night.  
Watch then my Soul! O rouse thyself from Sin!  
In all Advices with thyself begin;  
Rule thou thyself, let others stand or fall,  
A Conquest o'er thyself a real Conquest call.     

The Christian Pattern paraphrased.  
The Second Book.  

I. That the Life also of Jesus might be manifest in our Flesh.  
THE Mighty God in pious Hearts commands,  
In such his sacred Empire stands;  
Turn then to God; this wretched World detest,  
Thy Soul shall then in Safety rest:  
Scorn outward Toys, but inward Virtue's prize,  
Then in thy Breast his Throne shall rise;  
Sweet Peace and Holy Joys, to Dogs denied,  
Shall in thy happy Breast reside.  
Thy Lord to thee, if thou prepare the Room,  
Shall with a thousand Comforts come;  
His glorious Beauties and his Charms Divine  
More bright in Holy Bosoms shine,  
Where with the Soul he oft and kindly talks,  
And in amazing Friendship walks.  
Rouse then, believing Soul! with humble Care,  
Thy Lodgings for thy Spouse prepare!  
His Word is passed; If any Soul improve  
In Holy Truth and Heavenly Love,  
I and my Father in his peaceful Breast  
Will settle our Eternal Rest.  
He comes! discard all other Inmates strait,  
Set wide for him the Glorious Gate!  
Christ will be Riches, Life, and All to thee,  
Thy Husband and thy Guardian Herald  
No more shalt thou Inferior Aids implore,  
In Man repose thy Trust no more;  
Men soon are changed and perish, only He  
Lives thro' immense Eternity.  
Men are uncertain as the veering Wind,  
To all delusive Arts inclined;  
To day they're loves, and to day they're kind,  
To morrow all to Spite resigned:  
Trust then in God; to him for Shelter fly,  
With Love and Fear before him lie.  
Thou'lt find no lasting City here below,  
But wilt a wretched Stranger grow,  
A wand'ring Pilgrim, and bereaved of Rest,  
Till of thy Christ, thy King possessed.  
Earth's not an easeful Place: Above the Skies  
O lift thy watery longing Eyes.  
There let thy sacred Conversation be,  
Tho clogged with vile Mortality.  
Think on thy Mighty Lord: On Christ recline,  
Be all thy Thoughts and Words Divine;  
But, if his wondrous Throne appear too high,  
O to his Cross for Harbour fly!  
Think on his gaping Wounds, how deep, how wide,  
How they'll a trembling Sinner hid;  
There thou a Flood of healing Balm shalt find,  
More rich than ahab's noblest Kind.  
Thence may'st thou look abroad with cheerful Eyes,  
And Human Scorns and Frowns despise.  
Thy dearest Lord was helpless here and poor,  
And could their bold Affronts endure:  
A Man of Sorrows, and inur'd to Pain,  
And canst thou, wretched thing! complain?  
Hated, belied was He; and wouldst thou find  
The World about thee Just and Kind?  
How would thy Patience, if untried, be crowned,  
Thy Love be to thy Master found?  
With him the Cross on Earth for him sustain,  
If thou'dst with him triumphant reign.  
Hadst thou thy Saviour's bleeding Bosom viewed,  
Had Love thy tender Soul imbued,  
Thou'dst ne'er thy own Concern nor Ease regard,  
But be with Joy for Shame prepared.  
Where Heavenly Love in sacred Flames can rise,  
A Man will soon Himself despise.  
Jesus and Truth, in Souls from Passions free,  
Implant a Godlike Liberty;  
Mount then to Heaven with mighty Raptures blest,  
Where They in sweet Fruition rest.  
He who looks thro' the masking World's Disguise,  
Is taught by God, and truly Wise.  
He by Heaven's inward Light directs his Ways,  
No gaudy Show his Course delays:  
Each where a Place, each Hour a Time can find  
To exercise his soaring Mind.  
Sweet Meditations are his whole Delight,  
Nor can this World his Thoughts invite;  
No foreign Cares or Business curb his Soul,  
Or his superior Sense control.  
Well-poised within he ne'er regards nor fears  
The Rage of headstrong Mutineers;  
But knows distracting Madness only springs  
From Trifling, Sordid, Worldly things.  
Were't thou well purged, from darling Vices free,  
All things would turn to Good to thee;  
But now a thousand Cares thy Dreams displease,  
A thousand Crosses break thy Peace:  
Thy Soul not yet enough from Earth retires,  
Nor art thou Dead to vain Desires.  
The Love of Earth pollutes the purest Heart:  
All Earthly things the Plague impart.  
Mount then, and all Enjoyments here despise;  
So thou to outward Joys and endless Bliss shall rise.   

II. He who humbleth himself shall be exalted.  

ne'er vex thyself to think what powerful Friend  
May thy lost Cause defend;  
ne'er vex thyself, to think what powerful Foe  
May work thy Overthrow.  
Keep but thy Conscience pure, thy God shall be  
Thy Saviour, and a sure Defence for thee.   

Where God assists, the World in vain may frown,  
And strive to keep thee down▪  
He'll soon, if thou'lt with humble Patience wait,  
Relieve thy sinking State.  
He knows His time; Thy Faults thy Neighbours know;  
And humblest Thoughts from Errors known should flow.   

The Soul cast down for Sin soon reconciles  
His angry Neighbour's Smiles:  
In Woes God views his true Humility,  
And saves and sets him free;  
To him his Comforts and his Grace incline,  
And make him after Sufferings brighter shine.   

His Secrets God to humble Souls reveals,  
And such with Sweetness heals.  
Tho scorned by Men he still secures their Peace,  
Till Worldly Furies cease.  
Don't then thyself for wondrous Gains esteem,  
Till thou less to thyself than all around thee seem.    

III. The Fruit of Righteousness is sown in Peace of them that make Peace.  

IF Peace and Love within thy Bosom reign,  
Thou others master to Love and Peace allure.  
The peaceful Man may greater Glory gain  
Than Learning could, or mighty Parts procure.   

The Man of Spite in all things Poison finds,  
And all things Ill of all the World believes.  
The peaceful Man their Goodness only minds,  
And ne'er to jealous Dreams reception gives.   

The Malcontent with jealous Furies torn,  
To others Rest, Rest to himself denies:  
His Sense by Rage, and boundless Heats o'reborn;  
But what's his Work with mad Contempt defies.   

He nicely scans what Others Duties are,  
But what's his Own as wisely casts aside.  
Judge thou thyself first with impartial Care,  
And to thy Neighbour then thy Thoughts divide.   

Thou canst a thousand fine Excuses make  
For Crimes, but hat'st what others make to thee.  
Thy Wisdom Pleas for others Faults should take,  
And on itself the sharpest Censor be.   

Else thou'rt to Charity a Stranger quite,  
No humble Thoughts approach thy surly Breast:  
But meek good Men in Anger can't delight,  
Or think they on themselves improve it best.   

With kind sweet tempered Friends in Peace to live,  
Is Nature's Rule; for Love Returns will claim:  
But Peace, with such as bold Disturbance give,  
With rough hewn Boors, becomes a Christian's Name.   

This happy Man enjoys an easy Mind,  
And Peace with Others wisely still maintains.  
That with Himself nor Others Peace can find;  
Bad to Himself, to Others worse remains.   

Yet all our Quiet in our State of Woe,  
In humble Suffering, not Enjoyment, stands;  
And he who best can thro' Affliction go,  
The calmest Thoughts, the surest Peace commands.   

He all the World with patiented Faith subdues,  
And o'er himself a mighty Conquest gains:  
To him his Saviour endless Friendship shows,  
And he a King at last in Heaven's bright Kingdom reigns.    

iv Purity and Sincerity.  

ON two fair Dovelike Wings the pious Saint may rise,  
From Earthly Sorrows towered the peaceful Skies.  
A Heart sincere, a spotless Mind,  
In all that's Loved, and all Designed:  
This towards its Maker hastes,  
That all his Goodness tastes  
How kind, how free  
He'll always be.  
Thy Thoughts shall all succeed,  
From lose Affections freed,  
If thou Heaven's Will resolve to do,  
And all thy Neighbours Good pursue,  
Then Nature's Frame the noblest Book shall be,  
And every Plant present thy Mighty God to thee.   

Purge but thyself from Sin, thy Sense enlarged shall go  
Thro Heaven's vast Tracts, and Hell's dark Womb below.  
All things to well-purged Souls are fair,  
All vile to those polluted are.  
Pure Hearts perhaps may know  
Some little Joys below:  
But Horror rolls  
O'er guilty Souls,  
While bright as Aetna shows  
When th' inward Sulphur glows;  
So clear will real Converts shine,  
With Heavenly Zeal and Love Divine.  
The Lukewarm Wretch the smallest Labour fears:  
The firm good Man unmoved thro' fiercest Danger steers.    

V CONSIDER.  

HOw oft our Grace, and Sense of Grace decays!  
How weak our inward Light, how faint its Blaze!  
How oft extinguished quite while we remissly gaze!   

Rarely we can our inward Darkness find;  
Our Deeds are foolish, our Excuses blind,  
And a wild mad-brained Heat miscalled a zealous Mind.  
We soon the Motes in others Eyes can spy,  
But in our own can scarce the Beams descry;  
Our Sins we slightly pass, but Theirs severely try.   

We feel the Feather on our Shoulders laid,  
But not how much that massive Mountain weighed,  
To which our Neighbours were by our ill Arts betrayed.   

That Man, who with impartial Eyes looks o'er  
His own great Sins, and their advancing Score,  
Will find his Task at home, and gad abroad no more.   

The wise Man first his Own Concerns pursues,  
Condemns Himself, to Others Candour shows,  
And oft severe Disputes within Himself renews.   

Dost thou thy God with just Affections love?  
No more will earthly things thy Fancy move,  
But all thy Thoughts will dwell on endless Joys above.   

If not at home, where lives thy wand'ring Mind?  
What Good canst thou, thyself neglected, find?  
True Peace and Rest were all for inward Cares designed.   

How vast, how sweet will thy Advantage be,  
When, from inferior Cares and Tortures free,  
Thou'lt all the worthless Heap of Earthly Glories see?   

There's nothing Great, or Good, or Just, or High,  
With which weak Nature can thy Soul supply;  
Such Treasures all in God's Eternal Bosom lie.   

The pious Soul all for his God defies,  
He Lives, Fills all things, is Immense and Wise;  
From him all Pleasure's spring, and solid Comforts rise.    

VI And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a Conscience void of Offence.  

A Conscience free, a Conscience clear  
From inward Pangs of guilty Fear,  
The happy Soul with peaceful Glory crowns;  
Feeds him with Joys, though crossed with Woes,  
And bids him smile at angry Foes,  
While Gild still trembles at their angry Frowns.   

Sweet be his Peace, and calm his Rest,  
Who by no dark Reflection's pressed,  
But all his Actions are refined and good.  
No Peace the guilty Conscience knows,  
But secret Gripes and swelling Woes,  
As constant Rains augment the rolling Flood.   

What though They talk of peaceful Days,  
And high their vain Expectance raise,  
And dream of happy Lives from Anguish free?  
Mind not their haughty Looks or Lies,  
Vengeance on all their Pride shall rise,  
And all their Embryo Thoughts abortive be.   

Joy in severe Affliction proves,  
No uncouth Task to him who loves;  
His Saviour's Cross is all his Boast and Pride,  
While that short Praise the World bestows  
A thousand Griefs and Mischiefs close,  
And humane Hearts with torturing Woes divide.   

Sweet Innocence, not vulgar Air,  
And God and heavenly Truth prepare,  
Treasures of lasting Joys for humble Minds:  
Who to eternal Crowns aspires  
No Temporary Bliss desires,  
Nor on this wretched Earth Contentment finds.   

Where transient Bliss the Man deceives,  
The Wretch a glorious Kingdom leaves,  
And barters Orient Gems for crumbling Dust:  
He only gains a peaceful State  
Who neither values Praise nor Hate,  
But's ever to Himself and Virtue just.   

Praise adds no Holiness to Thee,  
And He a spotless Saint may be  
Who droops beneath the Weight of senseless Lies:  
God only knows him through, and where  
The Hands are clean, the Heart sincere:  
The Man at ease the common Vogue defies.   

He'll ne'er in Creature-Comforts rest,  
God wholly fills his taintless Breast,  
And to Eternity consigns his Name:  
All sordid Passions than remove,  
And walk with God in perfect Love,  
And promised Crowns of Heavenly Glory claim.    

VII. We love him because he first loved us.  

HAppy, thrice Happy's He  
Who can Himself despise,  
And, from ignobler Passions free,  
Up to the Gust of Love Divine can rise!  
Once was I fond of Pleasures here,  
Toys could themselves to trifling Thoughts endear.  
But now I've cast 'em off; my Jesus now  
Has my cold Heart with sacred Flames possessed,  
I to his Sceptre only bow  
With Heavenly Raptures blest.   

He's mine! He's mine! to him  
My winged Affections fly,  
To me my former Comforts seem  
An empty Cheat, a dangerous Fallacy.  
Jesus alone my Saviour's true,  
Daily his Aids, his charming Loves renew:  
Who e'er in this declining World confides,  
Crushed with it in eternal Ruins lies;  
Only my Rock, my Christ abides,  
And powerful Time defies.   

I'll grasp my Lord, my Love,  
And on his Breast recline;  
Let Others Other Friendships prove,  
My Life, my Jesus shall alone be Mine.  
Others the Soul in Dangers leave,  
My Jesus can't my longing Hopes deceive.  
I must from all inferior Pleasure's part,  
Nor, if I would, could I the Cheats retain,  
My Jesus ever keeps my Heart,  
And I in Him remain.   

Come Life, come hasty Death,  
I'll in my Jesus trust;  
To him I'll gladly yield my Breath,  
He'll only to my Faith and Love be just.  
He can't endure another Guest  
Should rival him in my divided Breast;  
There He'll an Arbitrary Monarch reign,  
His Throne, when freed from bold Usurpers, hold,  
And my dull Heart to entertain  
His glorious Image mould.   

Jesus, my Lord, alone  
My Love with Loves requites;  
But off those airy Hopes are blown,  
Which transient Bliss, or faithless Earth invites.  
No more, I'll look abroad no more,  
My Jesus is my All, my boundless Store,  
Should I e'er seek myself, myself would prove  
Worse than the World, and worse than Hell to me.  
While I my Jesus only love  
He's my Security.    

VIII. I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine.  

JEsus! Dear, Holy, Charming Name!  
My Joy! my Love! my Soul! my vital Flame!  
How am I blest when thou art here!  
How dead when thy sweet Beams no more appear?  
Vain is all Solace drawn from things below,  
Only from thy dear Life Eternal Comforts flow.   

So when with ruddy swelling Eyes  
Blest Mary offered Sorrow's Sacrifice,  
To her dear Breathless Brother's Ghost,  
Her broken Thoughts in strange Amusements lost,  
Jesus the Master called; the welcome Sound  
Wiped off her flowing Tears, her Eyes in Pleasure drowned.   

What Rocks could keep their Quarry long  
When called from thence by his harmonious Tongue?  
How stupid would the Sinner prove  
Whom his All-powerful Language failed to move?  
I'm lost, undone should He rejected be;  
That Loss is greater far than that of Worlds to me.   

Without Him what's the flattering World  
But one rude Heap, in wild Confusions hurled?  
With Him Hell's darkest part would be  
A Paradise, from all Temptation free.  
Jesus alone's an inexhausted Mine  
Of Consolations rich, and Treasures all Divine.   

How shall I hold thee fast, my Love?  
How with my Jesus all my Days improve?  
O make me Humble, make me Kind!  
So I shall his unalter'd Presence find;  
My Jesus I by Sins may turn to flight,  
But then must friendless live in Sorrow's gloomy Night   

May I enjoy but thee my Dear,  
I'll not a thousand marshaled Armies fear;  
No threatening Worlds shall daunt my Soul,  
Nor Hell's confederate Bands my Joys control.  
Others I'll love for Thee, but Thee alone,  
For thy Essential Worth, my Lord my Saviour own.   

I'll lay my pining Envy by,  
And o'er my Passions for a Conquest try,  
Vile in my self, yet loved by Grace,  
To others I'll thy sacred Footsteps trace;  
No wretched Inmates shall my Heart divide,  
I'm all, I'm only thine by all Engagements tied.   

Wash me my God, and make me pure,  
My Soul from all ensnaring Arts secure!  
O let me taste, O let me see  
What inexhausted Sweetness flows from Thee!  
Draw me, prevent me by powerful Grace,  
And my purged Soul with thy endearing Arms embrace!   

When of thy powerful Grace deprived,  
My Wealth, my Hopes, my Joys are all shortlived;  
When that returns, revived again,  
I vigorous Hopes and mighty Joys attain:  
So Summer Winter, Day succeeds to Night,  
And to a sullen Storm, a Sky serene and bright.    

IX. O that my Head were Waters!  

IT's easy, very easy sure,  
When Seas smile only with a gentle Gale,  
To hold the Rudder, or to furl the Sail;  
A young, a half-experienced Skipper may  
The floating Hulk from Port to Port convey,  
From lurking Rocks and Sands secure.  
But when an Earthborn Tempest loudly roars,  
And foaming Billows dash the sounding Shores;  
When Mountain-Surges bounding high,  
With curling Heads attempt the thundering Sky,  
Each Flurry opens Nature's silent Womb,  
And every Break displays a gaping Tomb;  
A skilful Pilot only then can hold  
The Helm, with long Experience bold,  
Hoary with Toils, with great Successes crowned,  
And all his brawny Crew around  
With Stomas undaunted, and in Dangers old.   

So when unfailing Comforts flow  
From smiling Heaven to stay the staggering Soul,  
And all its Joys are undisturbed and whole,  
A Novice Christian, though with Crosses tried,  
May bear his Head above the broken Tide,  
And an unyielding Courage show.  
But if at once, when Hell and Earth conspires  
To work his Ruin, God himself retires;  
If he behind a Cloud conceal  
His Lifeful Smiles; and if a dismal Peal  
Of Cares and Fears, wild Doubts and dark Despair,  
And Hell's swift Troops around the groaning Air,  
Break on his wretched Head; if, racked with Woes,  
And inward Griefs convulsive Throws,  
Forlorn, deserted, still his Faith can rise,  
And still can pierce the lowering Skies,  
This Man alone Faith's conquering Virtue knows.   

But Ah! how weak, dear Lord, am I!  
How could I flutter in serener Days,  
And sport and bask beneath thy gentler Rays!  
How bold when Dangers at a distance stood,  
When all thy Ways were smooth, and all were Good,  
And always thy Assistance by!  
Nay I have bravely stemmed the threatening Tide  
Of hellish Malice and of humane Pride,  
And thro' afflictive Deserts pressed,  
When by thy Conduct and thy Favour blest.  
But 'twas not I, dear Lord! thy mighty Grace  
And living Beams from thy Illustrious Face,  
Enlarged my Courage, and confirmed my Heart.  
But O should once thy Grace departed!  
Shouldst thou desert my Soul! no Comforts bring,  
When gathering Storms around me sing,  
How, Lord, could I support the fatal Smart!  
I know when my Redeemer died,  
When my dear suffering Jesus conquered Hell,  
His Flesh beneath Extremes of Anguish fell;  
Thy Saints beneath severe Desertions groaned,  
By Men afflicted, and by Heaven disowned,  
When in the scorching Furnace tried;  
Harsh were their Trials, but their Faith Divine  
Did brightest in Affliction's Midnight shine.  
They stood as Rocks unshocked, unmoved,  
When by Temptations hideous Tempest proved;  
Nay though they died, they still could trust in Thee,  
And cheerful Hopes through dismal Darkness see.  
But what am I, alas! how weak, how vain,  
If thou my God thy Smiles restrain?  
I sink, I drown, O save me, save me now!  
Unbend thy dreadful threatening Brow,  
 I among the silent Tombs remain!   

Lord I confess I'm all impure,  
Like beggared Oar drawn from exhausted Veins,  
Which ne'er rewards the Owners Cost or Pains:  
I know, if for Eternal Rest designed,  
I must be oft, like purest Gold, refined,  
And oft the fiery Test endure.  
Try me, O try me! Scorch me! Burn me here!  
Till I well purged from drossy Earth appear;  
But still with Judgement lash me Lord,  
Not like an offcast Wretch, forlorn, abhorred!  
Thy roughest Hand O give me Strength to bear!  
Through Woes protect me by thy tenderest Care!  
If thou thy Face a while in Anger hid,  
Or in prodigious Gloom reside,  
Shine quickly, shine again to me, and clear,  
O Sun of Righteousness appear  
With all thy lovely Beams and Morning Pride.   

When all Hell's Messengers on me  
With angry Buffets vent their utmost Rage,  
And spiteful Worlds against my Soul engage,  
Be thou with me; and though a thousand Foes  
Exert their Malice, and their Hate disclose,  
Thy Grace my sure Defence will be.  
Affliction makes me humble, makes me wise,  
Affliction is Devotion's Exercise,  
Hope's happy Test, Faith's Ordeal Fire,  
The Death of sensual Lust and vain Desire.  
But when I've bravely past the threatening Flood,  
The Seas all blushing o'er with Crimson Blood,  
Tho Hell's inveterate Armies still pursue,  
Dear Lord thy Captain-Flame renew,  
Their shattered Wheels shall then but slowly move;  
But I thy vigorous Comforts prove,  
And from the wrecky Shore the promised Canaan view.    

X. Of his Fullness we all receive, and Grace for Grace.  

HA'! would I hope a lazy Rest to find,  
For Pains created, and for Toils designed?  
Would I supinely snort and streak,  
And only in a drowsy Language speak?  
No: I'll all worldly Ease despise,  
And only Patience exercise,  
And, while the World dissolved in Pleasure lies,  
The Cross I'll freely take,  
The Cross my Glory make,  
My dearest prize.   

Poor thoughtless Creatures yet inferior Toys  
Would rather choose than these diviner Joys,  
These which their own excel as far  
As Midday's Sun outshines the Morning Star;  
Those only Shame and Leanness bring,  
But these from Heaven and Virtue spring,  
By God himself on humble Minds bestowed,  
Tho off that pleasing Tide  
Sometimes in Ebbs must slide,  
Which lately flowed.   

Unhappy Men for senseless Freedoms move,  
Which but as Bars to Heavenly Pleasures prove.  
God freely will his Grace bestow:  
But Men ingrateful won't the Donor know.  
We never could exhaust the Spring,  
Can we but fit Receivers bring.  
On humble Hearts God pours abundant Grace:  
But where assuming Pride  
Can in the Soul reside,  
It quits the Place.   

I hate those Joys which drown my Sense of Sin;  
I hate those Raptures which in Pride begin;  
Not all that's High is Holy found,  
Nor all that's sweet with wholesome Goodness crowned.  
Impurities our Thoughts may seize,  
Our very Dreams our God displease.  
By Grace and by the Rod reformed, my Sense  
Observes I'm poor and bare,  
And Mercies only are  
My sure Defence.   

I'll humbly then before my Maker bow,  
Nor Pride nor Folly in myself allow.  
The purest Saints are humblest still,  
No vain Conceits their modest Bosoms fill;  
God was their Strength, on him they stayed,  
More lowly still by Virtue made;  
Each other's flattering Eulogies they scorned,  
But ever loved to see  
The gracious Deity  
With Praise adorned.   

Much have I got, but still I hope for more,  
If I my God with humble Vows implore,  
Nor by my Own His Actions prise,  
Whose Wisdom dazzles my defective Eyes.  
The Gift that's mean, the Work that's low,  
Can't from unbounded Goodness flow.  
His Rod in Me a thankful Heart shall find;  
And let him take or give,  
My humble Soul shall live  
To him resigned.    

XI. Let him take up his Cross.  

LOOK out my Soul, see all the floating World  
With Anchors dropped and Canvas furled,  
As if in Heaven's capacious Road secure,  
They'd make their Port, and seize Eternal Rest;  
Nor could their tedious Lives endure,  
Till with Immortal Glories blest.  
But lo! a Cross of Blood! the thundering Sky  
Flames with the dreadful Prodigy!  
And lo! the Fleet in strange Confusion fly,  
Their Cables cut, all Hands aloft! they cry,  
To Windward ply, clap all their Canvas on,  
And lo! how suddenly they're gone!  
In all the Offin not one Sail appears,  
So terrible the Cross, so swift their senseless Fears.   

They're bold in Calms, and love a gentle Gale,  
But in a Storm their Tempers fail,  
Cold are their Hearts, their Courage deadly cold;  
They can't a rolling Eastern Billow bear,  
But, to enslaving Terrors sold,  
They sink at once in deep Despair.  
Fond Hypocrites who'd fain by fine Deceit  
Their Maker's searching Wisdom cheat!  
Would solid Bliss for empty Service gain,  
And by Heaven's piercing Eyes unseen remain;  
They love a Heavenly and Eternal Feast,  
But previous Abstinence detest;  
Themselves, as other Men, Themselves abuse,  
And for a weighty Cross a weightier Crown refuse.   

How close on Jesus for the Loaves they wait!  
But all the Thoughts of Sufferings hate;  
Gladly his helpful Miracles admire,  
To loud Applauses and Hosannas rise;  
But from the shameful Cross retire,  
With daunted Hearts and lowering Eyes.  
They love him when with joyful Garlands crowned,  
And all his shining Armies round;  
But when the Villain-Rout their Lord assail,  
And Tyrants o'er his Innocence prevail,  
If He, our healing Sun, in Blood go down,  
Or but obscure a while, or frown,  
They, like his Friends of old, desert him all,  
And to a base Distrust and vile Reflections fall.   

But those, who for his own Dear sake can love  
Their Holy Jesus, wiser prove;  
Conscious of Sin, they look for Sin's Reward,  
Sorrows, Afflictions, Anguish here below;  
With Thanks their Master's Strokes regard,  
And in his Rod his Kindness know.  
Tho to a deep, a hopeless Gloom confined,  
They're grateful all, and all resigned.  
O from that Love what mighty Wonders spring,  
When private Interests no Distraction bring!  
But Ah! what Mercenary Souls are they  
Who only serve their Lord for pay!  
Who in his dearest Self no Charms could find  
To touch the humble Heart, & ease the lovesick Mind.   

A Soul abstracted quite from things below  
We rarely, very rarely know;  
Can I for such a Temper freely give  
This mighty Globe, alas! 'twere worthless all;  
Should I a mournful Recluse live,  
How short would Tears and Mourning fall!  
Can I for it through Learning's Circle run,  
The Purchase would be scarce begun.  
Nay, had I Virtue and Devotion too,  
And only Ecstasy and Rapture knew,  
Much would be wanting yet, my Test would be  
If I myself could conquer Me,  
Can I the Rivals of my Lord dethrone,  
And yet myself at last a worthless Servant own.   

The best of Saints will no Deserts pretend,  
No Actions of their own commend;  
They know their inward Frailties all, and know  
How short their Labours of Perfection are;  
And still, as better, humbler grow,  
And still against Themselves declare.  
They know their Master never wants their Praise,  
Their Service can't his Glories raise:  
I'll tread their sacred Steps, and boldly try  
To lay myself, my wild Presumptions by;  
I shall when meanest to myself I seem,  
Be greatest in my God's Esteem,  
Poor in my self, and despicably vile,  
But raised to Strength and Wealth by his reviving Smile.    

XII. God forbidden that I should glory save in the Cross of Christ.  

IT's hard, extremely hard to hear the Cry,  
Make haste! take up the Cross! thyself deny!  
Make haste! thy Master's Steps pursue!  
But harder far to hear that dismal Doom,  
Depart damned Wretch to Hell's eternal Gloom,  
To Flames and endless Torments due.   

But those who bore their Cross of old, appear  
All free from Horrors and from damning Fear;  
And when the fatal Trumpets sound,  
In Heaven the Banner of the Cross shall stand,  
And all its Friends a bright Triumphant Band,  
Their Standard and their Lord surround.   

Why should I fear the Cross who claim the Crown?  
That Cross which brought my Life and Safety down,  
And me from all my Foes defends?  
The Thoughts of That superior Sweets diffuse,  
And That my inward Strength and Joy renews,  
And to Divine Perfection tends.   

Front thence my Hope, my dear Salvation flows,  
I'll bear it then, and with my Saviour close,  
With him the Marriage-Chamber gain;  
That I might for a suffering State provide,  
He bore the Cross, and on the Cross he died,  
But Glory still rewards the Pain.   

Try High and Low, all ways for safety try,  
Safety at last beneath the Cross must lie,  
In Lusts and Passions mortified.  
Strive to avoid it; still thou'lt find a Cross,  
Thou'lt find dark Grief, sharp Pains, Afflictions, Loss,  
And sudden Woes thy Time divide.   

Perhaps my God may in a Cloud retire,  
Perhaps my Neighbours may my Fate conspire,  
Or I myself my Self torment:  
Thus God would have me by Affliction tried,  
More bright, more clean, more throughly purified  
By what I can't with Care prevent.   

Can I all other Persecutors shun,  
In vain myself yet from myself would run,  
This Self would be a Cross to me.  
By Sufferings I my Saviour's Lot may know,  
More patiented thence and more submissive grow,  
And Peace and endless Glory see.   

The Cross, if with a cheerful Heart I bear,  
With that I'll to the peaceful Harbour steer,  
Where Griefs and Pains shall reach no more.  
If I reject it, I must bear it still,  
A second must the same Design fulfil,  
More weighty far than that before.   

No Man, no Saint yet lived from Sufferings free;  
Not one short Moment could my Jesus be  
Without the bitter ponderous Load;  
He Died, he Risen, and thence to Glory passed,  
And I may reach those Seats of Bliss at last  
By that Imperial Purple Road.   

Would I then dream of Pleasures? dream of Rest?  
Fond Fool! I know this wretched Life's oppressed  
With endless Crosses, endless Woes.  
If I have Grace, my banished earthly State  
Will Crosses to my longing Soul create,  
And quickly break my soft repose.   

Beneath the Cross I Heavenly Comforts find,  
My Flesh fatigued, but my Superior Mind  
By inward strengthening Grace renewed.  
While thus I follow Christ, my Joy shall rise,  
My Faith he'll by my patiented Sufferings prize,  
Tho with his Strength alone endued.   

Flesh hates the weighty Cross, the Rod, the Chain,  
To fly from Honours, and Affronts sustain,  
Nor can fond Self Himself despise.  
Such Virtue's only spring from Faith Divine,  
And if the Cross on Faith's bright Armour shine,  
Hell from the dreadful Vision flies.   

Move then my Soul! thy Cross submissly bear,  
And for a thousand Cares and Griefs prepare;  
Drink what thy Saviour drank before.  
Rejoice in Sufferings, little Bugbears all,  
To that bright Crown which on his Brows may fall,  
Who once his Cross with Patience bore.   

If I in Sorrows once can Sweetness find,  
My Soul to bear my Saviour's Cross resigned,  
I've found a Paradise below;  
But if I murmur at the Weight I bear,  
And fly from Sufferings with a thoughtful Care,  
I but from Chains to Tortures go.   

Come Cross, come Death then for my Saviour's sake!  
My Lot I'll with submissive Gladness take,  
And so Eternal Peace obtain.  
For should I mount with Paul above the Skies,  
Affliction still might be my Exercise,  
When I to Earth returned again.   

Ah! were I worthy that Immortal Fame,  
To suffer for my dear Redeemer's Name,  
How would the Saints rejoice for me!  
Patience the most impatient Slaves will praise,  
And Trophies to the smiling Martyrs raise,  
When from the Cross themselves are free.   

O may I then, while living, daily die  
To Sin, to Earth, and to myself! that I  
May fill my Heart with things above.  
So may my God accept my happier Choice  
To die with Christ, not with the World rejoice,  
And thence approve my sacred Love.   

Christ taught me thus; and had His Wisdom known  
What safer Path could be to Glory shown,  
To that He'd all his Friends invite.  
I'll then to grasp at Him, myself deny,  
And through a thousand Tribulations try  
To reach the dazzling Realms of Everlasting Light.     

The Christian Pattern paraphrased.  
The Third Book.  

I. I will hear what the Lord will say unto me.  Believer. 
LET's now, my Soul, attentive be  
To what my God will speak to Me.  
Blessed Souls, which hear his charming Voice,  
And in his sacred Words rejoice!  
Blessed Ears, which hear those Heavenly Sounds,  
Which no inferior Noise confounds!  
Thro which my God, by various Ways,  
To Me his powerful Truth conveys.  
Blessed Eyes on inward things intent,  
Which foreign Objects can't prevent!  
Blessed Man, who thro' Heaven's Secrets pries,  
Improved by daily Exercise!  
Who on his Master longs to wait,  
And would Earth's mean Encumbrance abdicate.  
Watch then, my Soul, and shut the Door,  
Admit inferior Toys no more;  
But hear, O humbly hear what He  
My God, my Lord will speak to Thee!  
He's all thy Health, thy Life, thy Peace,  
And makes thy Inward Jars to cease.  
Cast off poor transitory things,  
And search for Truth's Eternal Springs.  
The World's a Cheat, the Creatures Cheats,  
If once their mighty Lord retreats.  
Throw off then all those Cheats below,  
And Faith in thy Creator show,  
If thou'dst the utmost Sweets of Heavenly Blessings know.   

II. Speak, Lord, for thy Servant heareth.  Believer. 

SPeak, Lord, O speak! thy Servant hears!  
Unclose my Eyes, unlock my Ears!  
To me thy Sacred Dictates show!  
O to thy Words my Heart incline!  
O make it yield to Truth's Divine  
As Lilies bend with Morning Dew!   

Thy awful Thunder's dismal Roar  
Made Israel's frighted Tribes implore  
Not Thee, but Amrams Son to hear:  
They trembled at his radiant Brow;  
But when from burning Darkness Thou  
Declar'dst thy Name, they died for Fear.   

With all submissive Boldness I  
To Thee alone for Counsel fly:  
Speak, Lord! O speak, thy Servant hears!  
No Moses I, no Saint require,  
But thy dear Words alone desire;  
O speak to my attentive Ears!   

Sweet may the Prophet's Language sound,  
When they Mysterious Truths propound;  
Plain are their Words, their Counsels plain.  
Without they show thy sacred Way,  
And Plant and Water all the Day,  
And Cry, but Cry alas! in vain.   

From Thee the Spirit only flows,  
By Thee the Heart with Fervour glows;  
Thy Aid the Mystic Word explains.  
Thou giv'st Perfection, Strength, and Light,  
And makest the grateful Soil requite  
With weighty Fruit the Workman's Pains.   

Then let no Moses speak to me;  
On Thee, Dear Lord, I wait on Thee  
For Fruit, for Life, for endless Love.  
O teach me what I hear to do,  
And Love to what I know to show;  
And Faith by Holy Works to prove!   

Speak then, O speak! thy Servant hears,  
With Thee the living Word appears:  
Thy Words Eternal Life bestow.  
Speak Lord! O give thyself to Me!  
And then my Lips and Heart to Thee  
Shall with Eternal Praises flow.    

III. Be not proud, for the Lord hath spoken.  Christ. 

HEar then my Words, my Son, more sweet than those  
Which ancient Philosophic Sages chose:  
My Words are Life and Spirit, far above  
That wretched Phrase which Human Senses love;  
Not framed for itching Ears, but humble Souls,  
Where mighty Love the silent Thought controls.  
Happy the favoured Christian taught by Me,  
Who lives from common Fears and wild Destruction free!   

I taught my Prophets and my Priests of old,  
And still to Men my saving Truths unfold:  
Most lie, like senseless Adders, deaf, or They  
The World more gladly than their Lord obey.  
The World poor Trifles, transient Joy propounds,  
Yet every Street with eager Slaves abounds.  
I promise pure Delights and endless Love,  
Yet can't the stupid Hearts of Mortals move:  
Nay in my Holy House the Plague prevails,  
No little Priest for small Preferment fails  
To go, to run, to fly; but scarce can crawl,  
When I to Holy Pains and sharp Repentance call.   

For paltry Sums, how oft the noisy Bar  
Maintains a tedious, and a costly War!  
By Night, by Day with restless Care they'll ply,  
If they some distant Glimpse of Gain descry.  
But senseless Fools! for never-changing Good,  
For vast Rewards, and Honour's rising Flood,  
For Crowns of endless Bliss they'll rarely try,  
But at the very Thoughts of active Virtue die.   

Blush then, poor whining, lazy Wretch, to see  
How Slaves of Earth with more Activity  
For Hellish Deeps, and Chains of Darkness strive,  
Than Thou in thy Creator's Arms to live.  
Those Fools can more in dull Delights rejoice,  
Than Thou to hear thy Saviour's warning Voice.  
Yet oft they lose their empty Hopes; but I  
Ne'er broke my Promise, nor was known to Lie.  
Rocks may be torn, and mighty Mountains fall,  
One Word dissolve the vast Terraqueous Ball;  
But where I find a constant Love to Me,  
My happy Friends a full Reward shall see,  
More than their largest Thoughts their Souls shall find;  
Their Bosoms always calm, their Maker ever kind.   

Then on thy Heart my powerful Word engrave,  
Peruse it well, and my Assistance crave:  
When Tempests gather in an angry Sky,  
With Wisdom they'll thy Head and Heart supply.  
I oft my Friends with sharp Temptations prove,  
As oft revive them with returning Love:  
This makes them prosecute their Sins with Hate,  
This makes them close at virtue's Altars wait.  
But he who slights my kind Instructions, shall  
Beneath the dreadful Stroke of weighty Vengeance fall.    

iv Lord, I come to do thy Will.  Believer. 
MY God, my only Good, may I  
To Thee one humble Word reply?  
I, wretched Worm, more vile and low  
Than Words can speak, or Heart can know;  
Wilt thou thy worthless Servant own?  
May I approach thy awful Throne?  
Pity, Dear Lord, thy Pity send  
On him, who nothing can pretend;  
No Grace, no Strength, no Light's in me,  
But Weakness and Obscurity:  
But Thou art Holy, Just, and Kind,  
Immense; and thy Almighty Mind  
Runs thro' the World, and fills it All,  
But Souls which back from Virtue fall.  
Thy Love, thy tender Mercy, Lord,  
To Me a needy Slave afford!  
Thy Goodness hates an empty Place;  
O fill my Head and Heart with thy enlightening Grace!  
How can I live a Stranger here,  
Unless thy pitying Grace appear?  
O let me Mercy, Mercy see,  
And never turn thy Face from Me!  
Forsake not, Lord, my Soul, lest I  
Like drowthy Fields, or Deserts lie,  
Unfruitful, Barren, Dismal, Wild,  
With Dragons and with Serpents filled.  
Teach me Obedience, Lord, to Thee,  
And Prudence, and Humility:  
Thy Wisdom reads my Soul, my Heart,  
Thy Truth examines every Part;  
And e'er the World or I were made,  
Before thy searching Eyes my unborn Thoughts were laid.   

V And they who worship Him, must worship Him in Spirit and in Truth.  Christ. 
WAlk then with Me! Truth's Sacred Motions trace,  
And turn thy Heart to seek my glorious Face:  
Truth will protect Thee from the Tempter's Rage,  
And guard Thee from a vile seducing Age;  
She'll set Thee truly free, and make Thee rise  
Above those Errors, Men to break her Force devise.  Believer. 
True, Dearest Lord! O may it be,  
My God, as Thou declarest to Me!  
Let Truth instruct me, keep me sure,  
And my Eternal Bliss procure;  
From vile Affections Chains unbind,  
And brutish Love's debauched and blind.  
Then with a Heart sincere and free,  
I'll walk, my God, I'll ever walk with Thee.  Christ. 

To Thee I'll all the Ways of Goodness show,  
And thou, my Son, shalt all my Pleasure know:  
Think on thy Sins, think with the sharpest Sense,  
Nor dream of Merits, or of Innocence.  
Thy Sins are many, and thy Passions wild,  
Thou oft by Hell's deceitful Arts beguiled:  
Thy Pains are worthless, but thy Falls severe;  
Chains, Grief and Ruins round thy Tents appear.  
No Praise on thy Fantastic Virtue waits,  
But every thing thy swelling Pride rebates.  
Weak are thy best Designs, and weaker far  
Than all thy humblest Apprehensions are.  
Don't then, my Son, thy little Actions prise,  
Nor let great Shows delude thy wand'ring Eyes;  
Let not the World be sweet or dear to thee,  
Nor fix thy Love beneath Eternity.  
Be TRUTH thy Darling, TRUTH thy Soul's Delight,  
Thy Innate Vileness all thy Tears excite,  
Thy Fears, thy angry Talk, thy Scorn and Hate  
Engaged against thy inward sinful State.  
Some with a careless Life, but Curious Eye,  
Would boldly thro' my Mystic Secret pry,  
Neglect their own, and others Souls confound,  
Till in a Sea of deep Temptations drowned;  
And for their mad Attempts and Godless Pride,  
Down by revenging Strokes to endless Tortures slide.   

Do Thou my Anger and my Judgements fear,  
And don't too busy on my Works appear:  
Thy Sins examine well, thy Sins survey,  
Thy frequent Negligence, thy cold Delay:  
Some on their Pray'r-Books, or on Form and Show,  
All their Devout, deceitful Hours bestow.  
They'll Talk indeed, but never Think of Me;  
But those of Souls refined more clearly see,  
And only pant and breath to reach Eternity.   

Their Ears all Earthly Conversation hate;  
Unwillingly on Nature's wants they wait.  
They all the Smiles of flattering Worlds despise,  
And higher still in Heavenly Virtues rise;  
And spurn the Ball below, and grasp the lofty Skies.    

V Love is strong at Death.  Believer. 

TO Thee, Eternal Father, I  
With earnest Thanks and Praises fly:  
Father! By kind Adoption Mine,  
My Saviour's by his Birth Divine;  
Thro whom, on wretched Me bestowed,  
Thy streaming Pity largely flowed.  
Blessed, ever blest be thy Great Name,  
From whom my former Comforts came!  
Who pitied oft unworthy Me;  
For Mercy only lives in Thee.  
To Thee, to thy Eternal Son,  
Thy sacred Spirit, blest Three in One,  
All humble Thanks, all hearty Praise  
I'll thro' Immortal Ages raise.  
O Gracious God when once my Breast  
Is by thy sacred Love possessed,  
All Rapture then and Ecstasy,  
My Heart and Soul shall wait on Thee:  
O than my Hope, my Harbour be,  
When Seas of Tribulation compass me!  
Weak are my Virtues, weak my Love,  
But O with Joys my Strength improve!  
And with thy Heavenly Discipline  
Oft visit, and my Soul refine!  
My Passions, my Affections guide;  
That healed and throughly purified,  
My Love with brighter Flames may shine,  
And Patience make me all and only Thine.   

O what's the Force of Heavenly Love!  
How wondrous all its Motions prove!  
It makes the Heavy Burden Light,  
And always holds the Balance right.  
It can the Cross with Pleasure meet,  
And make the Bitter truly Sweet.  
Jesus! that Name beloved can raise  
The humblest Soul to grasp at Praise;  
Make it to mighty Works incline,  
And greater still and more design:  
Love scorns the lower World, and flies  
Like Flames to reach their kindred Skies.  
Love hates Restraint, and hates its Chains,  
And always of its Clogs complains.  
Sweet Love the roughest Souls can hold;  
Inflames the Wise, the Brave, the Bold;  
Makes Heaven the Rest of Saints above,  
And God himself subsists in boundless Love.   

The Lover smiles and springs and flies,  
He's free, and every Bar defies;  
Gives All to All, yet keeps it All,  
For he his God his own can call  
From whom the purest Blessings fall.  
It's not the Gift, but Giver He  
Above all other Joys would see.  
Love knows no Mean, but burns and glows,  
And o'er its common Bounders flows:  
Love never values Weight nor Pains,  
Nor of th' Impossible complains;  
But grasps at All, and All can do,  
If he who loves can be but active too.   

Love watches in the Lover's Eyes,  
And ne'er fatigued nor fainting lies.  
Love, though confined, abroad can rove,  
Unfrighted by the noisy Drove;  
Love, like a Torch or Astral Fire,  
Will always towards the Poles aspire,  
If that bright Flame my Soul possess,  
I soon to God shall find Access.  
My God, my Love, my Life is mine,  
And I, Dear Lord, am All and only Thine.   

O then with Love enlarge my Heart!  
To me that Heavenly Gust impart;  
That I those happy Sweets may prove,  
And always Live, and always Love!  
May Love possess me all, and raise  
My Passions to a soaring Blaze!  
Teach me to sing the Songs of Love,  
And fly with Thee, dear Lord, above.  
O fill me more and more, till I  
A Phoenix in those Flames may die!  
More than myself I'll love Thee, Lord,  
If thou thy lightsome Beams afford;  
And for thy sake I'll all embrace,  
Who love thy Glories, and who seek thy Face.   

Love, when sincere, is swift, and warms  
With pleasant and delightful Charms;  
It's Brave and Patiented, Wise and True,  
Long-suffering, Manly, ever New;  
And never seeks itself, but You.  
Love's Cautious, Humble, seeks the Right,  
Not Soft, Effeminate or Light;  
But Sober, Peaceful, Firm and ;  
A Guard on all our Senses placed.  
Love to its Guides Obedience gives,  
And meanly of itself believes:  
Devout to God and grateful proves,  
And still by Hope's Prescriptions moves,  
Yea though its God His Smiles remove,  
Since Clouds sometimes obscure the Skies of Love.   

Fit Me for Suffering, O my God;  
O fit me for thy sharpest Rod!  
For if I dare not smart for Thee,  
No Lover's Name belongs to Me.  
All Hardship I for Thee can bear:  
Thy Love can harshest things endear,  
No Pains from Thee shall make me start,  
While Grace unvails my Eyes, and Love secures my Heart.    

VI. Whom resist steadfast in the Faith.  Christ. 
YEt still my Son thou'rt neither brave nor wise,  
And Love's soft Name is but thy thin Disguise.  Bel. 
Why Lord?  Chr. 

Consider how thy Soul recoils,  
Despairs of Comfort, and desponds with Toils.  
The valiant Lover, like a Rock secure,  
Can all Hell's furious Arts unmoved endure:  
He loves me when he thrives, and lives in Peace;  
Nor can his Sufferings make His noble Ardours cease.   

The Prudent Lover may the Gift admire,  
But to the Giver most his Thoughts aspire:  
The Worth but little to the Kindness seems,  
The Giver He above the World esteems:  
I, not the Boon, his restless Heart engage;  
Yet Doubts don't strait a total Fall presage;  
Love's Sweet and Good, when fixed on Mine and Me;  
Grace gave it Being, and the Fruits may be  
The Foretaste of a Blessed Eternity.  
Grace yet may vary, have its Ebbs and Flows,  
And interrupt the careless Soul's Repose.  
He's Brave indeed who fights the Battle thro',  
And Courage, though oppressed with Odds, can show;  
He breaks Hell's utmost Force, and all his Loves are true.   

Then let not fancied Beauties charm thy Sight,  
Nor thy Sick Soul from righteous Ways invite.  
Sometimes perhaps thy Joys are Raptures all,  
And down strait to their former Weakness fall.  
If thou to get an equal Temper strive,  
That War may warm thy Soul, thy dying Hopes revive.   

Know then, the Prince of Hell, thy ancient Foe,  
Would all thy Faith and envied Hopes o'erthrow,  
Thy Soul's Devotions from thy Maker turn,  
And would against thy Saviour's Passion spurn.  
He'd fain divert thee from thy Sense of Sin,  
From virtue's Progress, and thy Guard within;  
Fills thee with impious Thoughts, perverts thy Mind,  
When most to Prayers and most to Heaven inclined.  
He hates Confessions, and to find Thee there,  
Where Sacred Flesh and Blood to Faithful Souls appear.   

Trust not, believe Him not; his Hellish Snares  
Are strongest then, when He for Peace declares:  
Say to Him, Hence! be gone, false Fiend, for shame!  
No more thy Lies in pious Ears proclaim:  
Hence vile Seducer! ne'er expect a Part  
In Me; My Jesus now defends my Heart,  
Too strong for Hellish Arms; nay Death would be  
More welcome far than vile Consent to Thee:  
Hold thy deluding Tongue! I'll hear no more,  
Shouldst Thou a thousand wheedling Arts explore;  
The Lord's my Light, my Health, I scorn to fear,  
Tho round my Soul Infernal Bands appear;  
My God's my ready Help, my Kind Redeemer near.   

Now like a valiant Soldier keep the Field;  
And though sometimes thy native Frailties yield,  
Resume thy Courage, and resist thy Foe,  
My Grace shall freely to assist Thee flow.  
But, when the Fiend shall from thy Sword retreat,  
Beware of flattering Words, or vain Conceit:  
By these surprised the gallant Hero fails,  
And easeless Blindness o'er the World prevails.  
O ne'er, since warned, approach that rocky Shore,  
Made rich with scattered Wrecks of thousands lost before.    

VII. He giveth more Grace unto the Humble.  Christ. 

MY Son, has bright Devotion's Flame possessed  
With inward Sacred Heat thy Zealous Breast?  
Then boast not of it, nor too loud proclaim  
The wondrous Force of that Celestial Flame?  
Fill not the Temple with an empty Noise,  
Nor, to amuse the Crowd, exalt thy Voice.  
Think 'twas a Grace on thy dull Soul bestowed,  
To make thee groan beneath thy sinful Load.  
Think how the Prince of Hell may cheat Thee! How  
Thy Breast may with a false Devotion glow!  
A Lip and Tongue-Devotion, where the Heart  
In all the Business never bears a Part.  
Think how a little time may quench the Fire,  
The glaring Torch in nauseous Fumes expire.  
Or, if it were a Heavenly Gift indeed,  
Think of thy Beggared State, thy pinching Need,  
Till lowly Thoughts those Heavenly Flames succeed.  
Thou beg'st for Comforts, but mayst rise as High,  
When Comforts at a greater Distance lie.  
If with a lowly Heart, an easy Mind,  
With Self-denial and with Thoughts resigned  
Thou bear thy Wounds; if still with ardent Vows,  
With Prayers on God thy ponderous Cares repose;  
If still thy Heart to pious Works inclines,  
With bold Endeavours and with Wise Designs,  
Thy struggling Arms above the Waters are,  
Not yet by Woes oppressed, nor sunk by black Despair.   

Some when they miss Success, impatient prove:  
Man can't Himself, nor where He pleases move.  
Man acts; on God the whole Success depends,  
Who where he will his blessed Assistance sends.  
Some with imagined Heats themselves destroy,  
Nor can Themselves in modest Bounds enjoy,  
But swelling with Enthusiastic Rage,  
Beyond the Bars of sober Sense engage;  
And while they dream above the World they fly,  
The flashy Meteors quickly faint and die.  
So low they fall who would so wildly soar,  
And don't the Refuge of my Wings implore:  
So Men unskilled in Ways of Virtue fail,  
Unless to guide their Feet some Wiser Heads prevail.   

If Man, who fond in Himself confides,  
From all the Paths of sober Goodness slides,  
It can't be strange, if Madmen scorn the Rein,  
And hate the Doctors who their Heats restrain.  
Mean Sense with lowly Thoughts securer far,  
Than mighty Parts with Pride exalted, are.  
It's more unhappy to be Proud than Poor.  
That Man's unwise, who in his Mirth secure  
Forgets past Poverty, and never dreams  
How soon a Cloud may veil Heaven's kindest Beams;  
And He's imprudent, who, when pressed with Woes,  
Off all his Hopes of Peace and Favour throws,  
And on my Mercy can't with steady Faith repose.   

Where haughty Pride in peaceful Times prevails,  
In Wars too oft the bloaty Courage fails.  
Couldst Thou thy modest Thoughts with Temper guide,  
Between th' Extremes of Baseness and of Pride,  
Thou'dst both in Straits and Storms securely ride.  
Be sure, when warmed within with Heavenly Light,  
To meditate on long succeeding Night;  
When That comes on, conclude again, the Day  
May quickly down, and make a longer stay;  
That for my Glory, and thy Good before,  
I brought the Night so soon, and can the Day restore.   

A Peace unshocked has greater Dangers far  
Than all the Bicker of a Ghostly War.  
The Soul where Charity and Meekness reigns,  
A nobler Character of Glory gains,  
Than Those who boast of Visions and of Light,  
And all their Cant in Scripture-Phrase indite;  
Or on Preferment's Pinnacle can light.  
Who seeks God's Honour, best secures his Own,  
And He who meanest in Himself is grown,  
Who shoots bright Honour from his vigorous Eyes  
When scornful Worlds his humble Fates despise,  
Must to the noblest Heights in Heavenly Favour rise.    

VIII. I abhor myself in Dust and Ashes.  Believer. 
DUST and Ashes though I be,  
Let me speak, dear Lord, to Thee!  
Should I Lord to Merit fly,  
On my own vain Works rely,  
Thou becomest my Enemy.  
All my Sins against me rise,  
All my Sins my Heart surprise;  
But if with a lowly Heart,  
I from wretched Self can part;  
If contemned, dejected I  
In the Dust before Thee lie,  
Then again thy Light, thy Grace  
Shall my sinking Soul embrace;  
All my Vanity and Pride  
That submissive Veil shall hid.  
Lord, to Me myself display,  
What I was and am to Day,  
Whence I come, and where I go,  
For, alas! I nothing know.  
If I Lord am left to Me,  
All I am's Infirmity;  
But if Thou thy Favour show,  
O how strong my Graces grow,  
How my bubbling Joys o'erflow!  
Strange, my God how wondrous strange  
Is the sudden blissful Change!  
When my Soul with Gild oppressed  
Is by thy Embraces blest!  
From thy Springs of boundless Love,  
My preventing Guardians move;  
All my Wants to Thee are known,  
Off those mighty Dangers thrown,  
Numberless and Nameless grown.  
In what horrid Snares I fell  
While I loved myself too well!  
When I loved and longed for Thee,  
I retrieved my God and Me.  
How Love's sacred Sparks inflamed me!  
How my own Reflections shamed me,  
When in Love's bright Mirror I  
Saw my own Deformity!  
Found, sweet Jesus! found how free  
All thy Favours were to me!  
When desertless, hopeless grown,  
Bright on Me thy Favours shone!  
Sing my Soul, O sing his Praise!  
Hymns to our Redeemer raise!  
Whose All-searching Eyelids found me,  
Whose All-pitying Loves unbound me,  
All my Sins and Follies past,  
And with tenderest Arms embraced.  
Turn, O turn us Lord to Thee!  
That, submiss and grateful, we  
May in pleasing Sacrifice  
Make our Songs as Incense rise!  
And possessed with Heavenly Flame,  
thou our Health and Strength proclaim!   

IX. And your Life is hid with Christ in God.  Christ. 

IF thou, my Son, wouldst be with Glories blest,  
Make Me thy chiefest Good, thy final Rest!  
So thou, too much to meaner Joys inclined,  
Shalt be from those inferior Love's refined.  
It's vain to fix thy Heart on things below,  
Which only inward Heat and Thirst bestow.  
Turn then to Me, for I thy Mercies give,  
In Me th' Eternal Springs of Mercy live;  
To Me their grateful Tribute all should pay,  
As to their Parent-Seas kind Rivers find their way.  
From me the Great, the Small, the Rich, the Poor,  
As from a living Fountain, draw their Store;  
And who for Me the World can freely leave,  
Shall find his Hopes, and Grace for Grace receive.  
But he who dares without his Maker boast,  
And trades for Pleasures from a foreign Coast,  
Shall lose his Joys, and in Himself shall find  
Eternal Furies to distract his Mind.  
No Goodness then to thy vile Self ascribe,  
No real Virtues to the Mortal Tribe.  
But all to me from whom all Blessings flow,  
Who all demand because I all bestow,  
That ALL my Bounty might with grateful Praises show.   

This Holy Truth puts Self-conceit to flight;  
And, when the Soul's adorned with Heavenly Light,  
And Heavenly Love, no pining Envy there,  
No narrow Thoughts, no little Loves appear;  
Ethereal Flames can soon those Damps control,  
And with exalted Thoughts enlarge the Soul.  
If then thou'rt truly Wife, thy Joys will be  
Thy Hopes, thy Confidence in Me; to Me  
All Praise, all Honour's due thro' vast Eternity.    

X. Thy Service is perfect Freedom.  Believer. 

ONCE, Lord, again I'll Silence break,  
Once more to my Redeemer speak,  
To thee my God, my King, my Love,  
Who dwells Invisible above!  
With Thee what treasured Sweets appear  
For all the Sons of Heavenly Fear;  
For all possessed by powerful Love,  
For all who faithful Servants prove;  
Ineffable to that pure Mind  
To meditate on Thee resigned.  
How great's thy Goodness Lord to Me,  
Which when I was not, made me Be,  
Reduced me when I used to rove,  
And taught me Service, and enjoined me Love!   

O Spring of boundless Love! to Thee  
What should my Humble Language be!  
Can I forget Thee, Lord? When I  
Was lost in Woes, and left to die,  
Thy Pity found and raised me more  
Than my own swelling Thoughts before;  
Was wondrous Gracious, wondrous kind,  
When Hell and Sin enslaved my Mind.  
What should my grateful Offering be  
But to renounce the World for Thee?  
To lay myself beneath thy Feet,  
And count thy hardest Service sweet?  
Is't much if I my Service pay  
Where all the World around obey?  
No: But it's Great, it's Glorious sure  
That I a Wretch, forlorn and Poor,  
Should in thy House Admission gain,  
And Portions with thy happy Sons obtain.   

See Lord, how I, though wholly Thine,  
Yet gain, since Thou thyself art Mine,  
Seas, Earth and Heaven thy Word obey,  
And all to Me their Tributes pay;  
Nay thy Superior Angels too  
Weak Me with guarding Cares pursue:  
Nay Thou thyself, my God, my Lord,  
Couldst to the Ruined Aids afford,  
A Man for wretched Man couldst be,  
And as a Ransom give thyself for Me.   

What shall I then return to Thee,  
Dear God, for all thy Loves to me?  
O could I serve Thee all my Days!  
O could I worthy Trophies raise  
To thy Immortal Name, and prove  
The utmost Force of grateful Love!  
Thou art my Lord, thy Servant I,  
To Thee I all my Toils apply,  
To Thee unceasing Praises sing,  
To Thee my Strength an Offering bring,  
To Thee my longing Wishes fly,  
O from thyself, Dear Lord, my Wants supply,   

Great is his Honour, great his Praise,  
Who All beneath thy Footstool lays,  
And with a cheerful Air can quit  
The World, and to thy Yoke submit;  
When weaned from Fugitive Delights,  
And all those Joys the World excites;  
When from his sinful Self reclaimed,  
And with superior Loves inflamed,  
Thy Spirit sweeter Joys shall give,  
And always in his Bosom live;  
Then, though in narrow Paths He move,  
And all the Straits of Virtue prove,  
His Soul at Liberty shall fly,  
And pass the utmost Barriers of the Sky.   

Dear Slavery! Delightful Chains!  
Where Man his largest Range obtains;  
Lives free from all the Weights of Sin,  
And Holy, and at ease within.  
O happy State! O charming sweet,  
Where Men with cheerful Angels meet,  
Where Man an Angel's Work may do,  
And Man becomes an Angel too!  
Dear happy State! God's pleasing Sight!  
Hell's Terror, and the Saints Delight!  
Blessed Chains to be with Smiles embraced!  
Blessed Chains with Gems of Glory graced,  
Which bring Eternal Blessings down,  
And all our inward Joys with endless Honour's crown.    

XI. Watch and be sober.  Christ. 
YET, Son! there's yet a mighty Taste behind,  
And many Rules have slipped thy wand'ring Mind.  Bel. 
What, Lord, are They?  Chr. 

That all thy fond Desires  
Should gladly bend to what my Will requires;  
That Thou thyself and selfish Love deny,  
And to Obedience all thy Thoughts apply.  
Ambitious Dreams rouse thy aspiring Soul,  
Thy lazy Thoughts ambitious Dreams control.  
Yet think! Does thy Ambition only glow  
With Heavenly Love, or Love of Self below?  
If I inflame Thee, thy obsequious Mind  
Will always be to my Decrees resigned;  
If vain Self-Love, the Plague prevails within,  
And all thy Passions are enslaved to damning Sin.   

Then ne'er be fond of sudden Heats, nor those  
Too freely on thy yielding Heart impose:  
Consult me first, lest Penitence, too late,  
Thy Raptures should to dark Despair translate.  
Ambitious Zeal may seem divinely raised,  
But should, when well considered first, be praised.  
Nor should those Ardours be rejected quite,  
Since I sometimes those spreading Flames excite;  
But still the Spirit to the Seer should yield,  
And Ecstasy to Reason quit the Field,  
Lest Madness should the fiery Soul surprise,  
Or Scandals from ungoverned Fervours rise,  
Or Thou despair when All thy bold Pretence despise.   

Yet sometimes holy Violence may control  
The brutish Passions of the Sensual Soul;  
'Slight the Remonstrances of Flesh and Blood,  
And only make its own Dominion good;  
The Rebel to a just Subjection bring,  
And make the Spirit reign a Sovereign King;  
Chastise the stubborn Soul, till mortified  
It lays its Vanity, and veils its Pride,  
And in a little can Contentment find,  
To all the sharpest Pains of Heavenly Life resigned.    

XII. In your Patience possess ye your Souls.  Believer. 

AT last, my God at last I see,  
Since Happiest Lives perplexed may be,  
How needful Patience is for me.   

For, though I Peace alone pursue,  
Rough Broils and Wars are all in view,  
And all my Days disturbed and few.   Christ. 

True, Son! then never dream of Peace,  
Where every Cross and every Pain may cease.  
True Peace with Tribulation may reside,  
And ne'er be lost, though fiercely tried.   

Thou thinkest its hard to suffer here,  
But canst thou Hell's Eternal Tortures bear?  
Wouldst thou from Hell's Eternal Tortures fly?  
Then learn to bear an angry Sky.   

Among the softest Fools inquire,  
They too on Earth have sometimes felt the Fire,  
(Perhaps with Pleasures mixed;) so roll in Sin,  
And never feel Remorse within.   

They'd satiate all their wild Desires,  
But Ah! how soon the fading Sweet expires!  
As Clouds of Smoke in lose Dispersion fly,  
So all the Sons of Pleasure die.   

No Mark of all their Joys remains,  
Their Lives are racked with never-ceasing Pains;  
Those Toys in which they fix supreme Delight,  
Those very Toys their Pains excite.   

So wisely God's Decrees are laid,  
That where the World has wretched Captives made,  
That very World should have a poisonous Sting,  
And Sorrows and Confusions bring.   

Like Russian Bears for Honey, They  
Their Souls in pawn for bitter Sweets can lay.  
But Thou, my Son, thy native Lusts subdue,  
And selfdenying Ways pursue.   

Delight in God thy Lord, and He  
Will give the Wishes of thy Heart to Thee.  
Wouldst Thou have Comfort? have sincere Delight?  
Lo I thy thirsty Soul invite.   

Give o'er this paltry World, and all  
Which here fond Men their Sweets, their Comforts call;  
So Blessings shall thy Heart, thy Head surround,  
With inexhausted Favours crowned.   

The more thou'rt weaned from Earth below,  
The more, the sweeter still my Comforts flow:  
But e'er the Race be gained, the Battle won,  
Thou'lt thro' a thousand Dangers run.   

Ill Habits, Flesh, the Prince of Hell  
With utmost Force will struggling Grace repel:  
But Prayer and Zeal, and grounded Virtue may  
The furious Opposition lay,  
And lawful Industry obstruct their fatal Sway.    

XIII. Let this Mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.  Christ. 

MY Son! who e'er rejects my lightsome Yoke,  
Who e'er would his Obedience vowed revoke,  
Rejects my Grace, and real Good must lose,  
While He his own fantastic Dreams pursues.  
Who e'er unfreely to his Pastor bends,  
That Guide whom God with Heaven's Commission sends,  
He'll still indulge his Lusts, and murmur still,  
And kick against his great Creator's Will.  
Then swiftly to thy lawful Teachers yield,  
If o'er thyself thou'dst win the glorious Field:  
For Foreign Foes to better Terms will come,  
When Rebels once are throughly quelled at at Home.  
Self is a deadly Foe, when Self presumes,  
And Rebel-Arms against the Mind assumes,  
That Self then with a just Contempt despise,  
If thou'dst victorious o'er the stubborn Inmate rise.   

Thou quakest to hear of just Obedience; why?  
Because that Self, thy darling Self is by.  
Is't then so much when Dust and Nothing can  
For God's dear sake submit to Godlike Man?  
Yet I, the mighty God, the Lord of All  
Whose Word from Nothing spoke this ponderous Ball,  
I stooped to Earth, assumed inferior Mould,  
And for thy sake myself to Sufferings sold;  
That thou mightst humble thy advancing Pride,  
I like a Slave abused, affronted, died.  
Learn then vile Dust! learn wretched mouldering Clay!  
Thy Head beneath the meanest Fooosteps lay.  
Learn, learn at last to break thy stubborn Will,  
And of a Subject all the pious Parts fulfil.   

Let Zeal against thyself inflame Thee more  
Than all thy furious Passions could before;  
Bow to the meanest Slave; let Beggars be  
Superior in thy own Esteem to Thee.  
Wouldst Thou, vain Dust, of harsh Affronts complain?  
How oft hast thou deserved Eternal Pain?  
How oft hast thou affronted Him, whose Hand  
Can Heaven and Hell to just Revenge command?  
My Eye yet spared Thee, that thyself might see  
How dear thy Soul's Salvation was to Me.  
That Thou my treasured Love mightst throughly know,  
Thy grateful Heart and Lips with Praises flow;  
That Thou mightst Favour in Obedience find,  
Be always to the Hand of Heaven resigned,  
And to a Self-contempt reduce thy Humble Mind.    

XIV. How unsearchable are his Judgements, and his Ways past finding out!  Believer. 

ON me, blest God, thy Thunders break,  
And Terror all thy Judgements speak;  
My Soul the dreadful Cracks confound,  
My trembling Bones the dismal Sound.  
Astonished, Dearest Lord, I see  
The Heavens themselves impure to Thee;  
Since Angel's Sins were punished there,  
How foul must wretched I appear?  
Those Stars from Heaven thy Vengeance threw,  
And what can sinful Ashes do?  
Those, once who made a glittering show  
On Earth, now sink to Pains below;  
And those who Angels Bread could eat,  
Would now be glad of Husks for Meat.   

All our pleasing Actions, we  
All our Good receive from Thee.  
If thy Hand the Vessel steer  
Wise our happy Cares appear;  
If the Helm thy Mercy quit,  
We to Seas and Storms submit.  
All our Courage, Lord, we own  
From thy Hand descends alone;  
Only then our Hearts are sure,  
When by thy Defence secure;  
But our Guards in vain we keep,  
If thy Eyelids close to sleep.  
Left, alas! We sink, we perish;  
But our Lives thy Favours cherish;  
Cold, Unstable, Wretched We  
Are confirmed and warmed by Thee.   

O then how mean and low  
I to myself should show!  
What Good in Me may seem,  
How little worth esteem!  
But O! what Gloom around  
Thy Judgements, Lord, is found!  
With what Submissions I  
Before thy Feet should lie!  
Since to myself I there  
Poor Nothing, Lord, appear!  
O Weight unmeasurable!  
O Deeps unnavigable!  
Where I can Nothing find  
Of Me but Shade and Wind.  
Where's then my secret Pride?  
How can my Heart confide  
In poor fantastic Dreams  
Of Virtues native Beams,  
Since all my Glories, tossed  
On judgement's Seas, are lost?   

Lord in thy Sight  
What Toys are we?  
How vain, how light,  
Compared with Thee?  
Shall Dust invade  
The Scorners Chair?  
With Him who made  
Himself compare?  
He bears no part  
With fancied Wits,  
Whose humble Heart  
To God submits.  
He'll all the Pride  
Of Earth refuse,  
Whom Virtues guide,  
And Truth subdues.  
He can't men's vain  
Applause endure,  
Whose Hopes remain  
In God secure.  
For Those who praise  
Are Nothings found,  
And only raise  
An empty Sound;  
Their Words are blown  
To Fairy Lands,  
And Truth alone  
Eternal stands.    

XV. Ye ought to say, If the Lord Will.  Christ. 

THUS then, my Son, thy humble Thoughts declare;  
Lord, if it please Thee, grant thy Servant's Prayer!  
Lord, if my Action may thy Praise proclaim,  
O bless it with thy own auspicious Name!  
Lord, if it useful, or expedient be,  
O for thy Glory bless thy Works to Me!  
But if They hurtful to my Soul may prove,  
Or won't my happy future State improve,  
From Me such fond Desires, Dear Lord, remove!  
Tho right and good to me my Thoughts appear,  
They mayn't the Spirit's sacred Impress bear;  
And if from Spirits Good or Bad they flow,  
For Men it's hard, it's very hard to know.  
Nay sometimes Flesh and Blood their Dreams may bring,  
And eager Hopes from swelling Lusts may spring;  
So oft deceived we think those Flames Divine,  
Which only with a faint inferior Lustre shine.   

If then some lovely Object strike thy Soul,  
With pious Cares and humble Fears control  
Thy eager Wishes, and thy All resign  
To th' firm Decrees of Providence Divine.  
Say; Lord, Thou knowest alone what's best for Me;  
May all my Works receive their Turn from Thee!  
What, when, how much than will't, Dear Father, give,  
While I beneath thy Wise Directions live!  
O do thy Pleasure with Me, make Me still  
Advance thy Glory, and observe thy Will!  
O guide Me, fix Me by thy powerful Hand,  
And Me at large in all Estates command!  
Thy Hand now holds Me; lead Me, turn Me round;  
But let Me still in Holy Paths be found!  
Lo I thy Servant here prepared and free,  
Nor would I live, Lord, to myself, but Thee.  
O may my Heart and Tongue in Heavenly Praise agree.    

The Prayer.  Believer. 

TO me, O tender Jesus, give  
Thy Grace within my Heart to live,  
That it may all my Fears survive!   

Lord, guide my Wishes, guide my Will!  
O make them seek thy pleasure still,  
And gladly thy Commands fulfil!   

O let my Pleasure, Lord, be thine;  
To follow Thee my Thoughts incline,  
And to thy sacred Laws confine!   

What e'er I wish, what  refuse,  
Let Me thy sacred Book peruse,  
And all by thy Directions choose!   

Lord, make Me die to things below;  
And through Neglect and Scorns to go  
For what thy wondrous Loves bestow.   

In Thee let all my Wishes rest!  
Let happy peace possess my Breast,  
With thy supporting Favours blest!   

On Thee my Dovelike Soul relies;  
But when it out at random flies,  
It only Floods and Storms descries.   

In Thee, O only Good! in Thee  
My easy fearless Thoughts shall be,  
Blest with immense Security.    

XVI. He alone comforts Us in all our Tribulations.  Believer. 

LORD, while Here, my Expectations  
ne'er pretend to Consolations;  
Endless Comforts, endless Blisses  
Oft engage my purer Wishes:  
But on Earth I ne'er shall find them,  
But on Earth I ne'er designed them.  
All the Joys of Earth possessing,  
I should quickly lose the Blessing;  
Look, my Soul, then, look above Thee,  
Let no common Pleasures move Thee!  
God alone has Consolation;  
He's the Poors, and thy Salvation.  
Wait my Soul a while, expect it,  
He who promised won't neglect it,  
But abundant Blessings send Thee,  
And With flowing Sweets attend Thee.  
If thy sickly craving Fancy  
Would to Earthly Joys advance Thee,  
They'll at last, alas! deceive Thee,  
And Diviner Favours leave Thee.  
Use the World, but use't in measure,  
Grasping still at endless Treasure.  
'Slight the fawning Fairs Caresses,  
Since ordained for greater Blisses.  
All created Pleasures flowing,  
And their softest Charms bestowing  
On Thee, ne'er could satisfy Thee,  
But superior Joys would fly Thee.  
God alone, who made, can bless Thee,  
And with true Delights possess Thee;  
Not with those the World admires,  
Nor what Folly moved desires,  
But what faithful Souls delight in,  
Pleasures pure, and Sweets inviting;  
Joys the cleanest Hearts attending,  
While in Heavenly Flights ascending.  
Short and vain are worldly Pleasures,  
Fixed and sure Celestial Treasures.  
Jesus too attends the Motions  
Of the pious Soul's Devotions,  
And with Comforts round secures Him,  
And of endless Life assures Him.   

Jesus, Dearest Lord, defend Me,  
And with guarding Flames attend Me!  
And when Humane Comforts fail Me,  
Let no dark Despair assail Me,  
But thy boundless Goodness guide Me,  
And reward Me when it has tried Me:  
For thy Mercy fails us never,  
And thy Anger burns not ever.    

XVII. Casting all your Care upon Him, for he careth for You.  Christ. 

MY Son, complain not, murmur not, if I  
With Thee the Methods of my Wisdom try,  
I who alone thy utmost Wants descry.   

Thou thinkest as Men would think, as senseless Fools  
Brought up in Reason's long Corrupted Schools,  
Strangers to Faith, and Hell's uneasy Tools.   Believer. 
Truth Lord! thy Cares are more for Me  
Than Mine, though for myself, could be;  
And He must stand but weakly sure,  
Whose Faith can't rest in Thee secure.  
Lord, make my Will subscribe to Thee,  
And act thy Pleasure then with Me;  
For all thy Management will prove  
Th' Effect of Goodness and of Love.  
If thou in Darkness chain me, Lord,  
Thy Goodness I'll with Praise record:  
If Thou with Light my Soul inflame,  
I'll sing to thy Illustrious Name:  
If Thou my Heart with Comforts fill,  
I'll still adore and praise Thee still:  
If laid in gloomy Dungeons low,  
My Lips shall still with thy Immortal Praises flow.  Christ. 
It's all thy Duty, Son! The pious Mind  
Must always be to Providence resigned:  
And Sufferings welcome there as Joys must be,  
And Wealth no more admired than slighted Poverty.  Believ. 
For Thee, Dear Lord! I'll gladly bear  
What e'er thy Dispensations are.  
Let Good or Bad, let Sharp or Sweet,  
Let Joys or Griefs around Me meet;  
The Dole thy Gracious Hand shall leave  
For Me, I'll still with Thanks receive.  
From Sins, Dear Saviour, keep Me clear,  
And I nor Death nor Hell can fear;  
O don't for ever Me disclaim,  
Nor from thy Book deface my Name:  
Then let a thousand Sorrows fall  
On Me, with Patience I'll support them all.   

XVIII. Through many Tribulations ye must enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.  Christ. 
MY Son, to save Thee when I left the Skies,  
I could a mighty Mass of Woes despise;  
Freely I came from those blessed Seats above,  
Unforced by Power, though constrained by Love,  
That Thou mightst with submissive Patience go  
Through all the Miseries of Life below.  
From my first Birth, till on the Cross I died,  
I still continued on the suffering side;  
Great Wants and Curses loud and great I bore,  
The Sinner's Follies, and the Scorner's Store;  
With base Ingratitude for Kindness I  
Was paid, for Miracles with Blasphemy:  
I preached the Truth, but, Ah too rarely moved  
The sinful Soul, but was for sacred Truth reproved.  Believ. 

Since Patience, Lord, thy Practice swayed,  
And all thy Father's Rules obeyed,  
How humbly, Lord, should I fulfil,  
A sinful Wretch, thy gracious Will?  
With what Submissions undergo  
The Pains of easeless Life below?  
Tho Life's unwieldy Load oppress,  
Thy Grace, Lord, makes the Burden less;  
And He who can thy Footsteps trace,  
May with thy Saints obtain the Race.  
What strange Obscurities of Old  
Did thy peculiar Flock enfold,  
When Jewish Bounds thy Church confined,  
And few to Heavenly Joys inclined!  
Yet than thy Blood their Bliss procured?  
Thy saving Death their Lives insured,  
Else on the Gloom of Sufferings tossed,  
They'd been in Woes Eternal Mazes lost.   

To Thee what Praise then should We pay,  
Who showest the Good, the Perfect Way,  
Whence I, and all thy faithful Seed  
May to Eternal Joys proceed?  
Thy blessed Example shows the Way;  
And He who follows Patience, may  
With Thee, our Lord, our Head, appear,  
And Crowns of endless Glories wear.  
Thy teaching, thy preceding Light  
Alone could backward Souls excite,  
Who else a fatal Course had run,  
By their own wand'ring Thoughts undone.  
Thy Miracles, thy Words Divine  
Can scarce our lazy Hearts incline;  
But whither, whither had we gone,  
Had not thy saving Beams before our Footsteps shone!    

XIX. He endured the Cross, despising the Shame.  Christ. 
GIVE o'er Complaints, my Son; give o'er  
Those deep-drawn Sighs, those flowing Tears;  
Think what for Thee thy dear Redeemer bore,  
Think what the dying Martyr bears!  
Think what a Flood  
Of sacred Blood,  
Think what a Sea of Crimson Gore  
From Me, from all my dying Servants flowed;  
Yet Thine still safely fills thy Purple Veins,  
While We endured a thousand Pains,  
Strongly tempted, deeply wounded,  
And with Heaps of Woes surrounded.  
Weigh well these mighty Sufferings, then compare  
Thy own with their prodigious Share;  
Blush, if Impatience swell thy thoughtful Breast,  
When with so small a Burden pressed:  
Nay look for more; that, if a Storm should rise,  
No stubborn Murmurs may thy Heart surprise.  
The more thy Soul to Heaven resigns,  
The more thy sacred Wisdom shines.  
By Use the Burden lighter proves;  
Say not, Had nobler Hands the Wounds bestowed,  
No mean disgrace from nobler Hands had flowed;  
But all my Spleen and Anger moves,  
To see a base ungrateful Slave  
His Benefactor's Passions brave;  
An unobliged, a great Man's Scorn  
I had without Reluctance born,  
But here I Pardon crave.  
Fond senseless Thoughts! Where heavenly Patience grows,  
It not such nice Distinction knows;  
ne'er values Men nor Injuries,  
But lifts its humble Eyes  
To Him whose glorious Hand bestows the Victor's Prize.  
Talk not of Patience, if thy Hand must choose  
Thy Burden, or the Weight refuse;  
Patience regards not What nor Who  
An Injury may do,  
But to the sacred Exercise submits,  
And easy under every Trial sits.  
It the Creator, not the Creature views,  
And with submissive Eyes pursues  
Its Maker's Hand, and can repose  
On what its Maker's Hand bestows.  
He knows, small Sufferings for his Master's Name  
A vast Reward may claim,  
Not to Deserts by Justice paid,  
But by free Goodness down to humble Hearts conveyed.  
Up then! for Wars prepare,  
If Thou the Crown wouldst wear!  
Patience, if unfading found,  
Patience may at last be crowned.  
If thou manly Deeds pursue,  
The Promise is to Sufferers due.  
Rest by Labour is obtained,  
And Victory by Fight gained.  Believer. 
Help then, O help Me, Lord, by powerful Grace!  
Impossibilities deface!  
Impossibility's no more,  
When Grace has filled the Heart before.  
Thou knowst my Weakness, Lord, how soon  
My Hope, my Strength, my Vigor's done.  
Little, I little can perform  
To stem the Tide, or face the Storm.  
O touch my Soul with Heavenly Love!  
Till soaring towered those Joys above,  
Afflictions I with Scorn may view,  
And still a steady Course pursue.  
To suffer, Lord, a while for Thee,  
Must bring Salvation sure and Happiness to me.   

XX. Miserable, and Poor, and Blind, and Naked.  Believ. 

LOrd, to Thee I'll now confess  
All my own Unrighteousness;  
All my own Infirmity  
I'll acknowledge, Lord, to Thee.  
Oft I'm grieved, and oft dejected,  
When with smallest Pains affected:  
Oft a brave Resolve I take;  
But the least Temptations shake  
All my Courage, and confound Me,  
When those Common Straits surround Me.  
Sometimes from the meanest Cause  
Hell a strong Temptation draws.  
When a sudden Blast overthrows Me,  
And from all Assurance blows Me.  
See my Wretchedness, and see,  
Lord, what Weakness reigns in Me!  
Save Me, snatch Me from the Deep,  
Lest I there for ever sleep!  
Most this grieves Me, most it wounds Me,  
That my Lust so soon confounds Me;  
Tho my Soul be ne'er consenting,  
Yet the Labours of preventing  
Too uneasy make my Life,  
Wearied with the constant Strife.  
Plainer still my Frailties show,  
While corrupted Notions flow  
Fast upon my Mind, but prove  
Tedious, grievous to remove.  
Dearest Lover, Lord! of Souls,  
Whose Almighty Power controls  
All above and all below,  
Pity on thy Slave bestow!  
All my Toils and Labours view,  
And with aiding Grace pursue!  
Fill Me with Celestial Strength,  
Lest rebellious Flesh at length  
O'er my fainting Mind prevail,  
And my inward Wisdom fail.  
Tedious Wars may fatal be,  
And betray myself to Me.  
What a wretched Life is This,  
Where we ne'er can Sorrows miss?  
Where Perplexities and Woes,  
Crafty Friends and mighty Foes  
All my Steps around enclose.  
Some departing, more approaching,  
And the Tempter more encroaching.  
Sorrows still on Sorrows ride  
With a dismal pompous Pride,  
Like the Higre on the Tide.   

O who can love a Life distracted so,  
All whose Streams with Wormwood flow,  
Filled with Trouble, bankt with Woe?  
How's that true Life which Death and Plagues, creates?  
Yet how great a Number rates  
All those Cares as Delicates!  
They'll cry, The World is false, the World is vain,  
And yet from it can't refrain;  
Lust will still the Field maintain.  
The World to Us our fleshly Lust commends,  
That our Pride of Life pretends,  
That our greedy Eye defends:  
But when we think of Griefs, and think of Pains,  
Griping Mischiefs, weighty Chains,  
Hatred then triumphant reigns.  
A vitiated Taste the Mind deceives,  
And so false a Gusto leaves,  
As for Honey Gall receives.  
God then the Mind can neither taste nor see,  
Nor how Sweet or Gracious He,  
Nor how pleasant Truth may be.  
But those who throughly can the World despise,  
To their Maker only Wise,  
Love their Heavenly Exercise:  
They know those Sweets to well-purged Minds insured,  
And of Inferior Long cured,  
Live from the World's false Snares, and wheedling  
Arts secured.    

XXI. And now, Lord, what is my Hope? truly my Hope is even in Thee.  Believ. 

LIfe my Soul of Peace possessed,  
On thy Dear Redeemer's Breast,  
He's the Saint's Eternal Rest.   

Dearest, Sweetest Jesus, store  
Me with Love, to love thee more  
Than I could the World before!   

Make Me love Thee more than Feature,  
More than all the Pride of Nature  
In the fairest, softest Creature!   

More than Honour, more than Glory,  
More than boundless Territory,  
Or a Mighty Name in Story!   

More than Subtlety or Parts,  
More than Riches, or than Arts,  
Or the Joys a World imparts!   

Make Me love Thee more than Fame,  
Or the loudest sounding Name,  
Or than Comforts Heavenly Flame!   

More than all those treasured Sweets  
Hope in every Promise meets,  
When it dawning Glory greets!   

More than Merits or Desire,  
Or than thy Superior Fire  
Can with all its Beams inspire!   

More than Pleasure, more than Gladness,  
Or a Mind when purged from Sadness,  
Ecstasied to Holy Madness!   

More than Captain Angels, more  
Than those Spirits which before  
Thy All-glorious Throne adore!   

More than I believe or see,  
More than all on Earth can be,  
Which, my God, which is not Thee!   

Thou, my Lord, my God, art blest;  
Goodness centres in thy Breast:  
God most High, and most Puissant,  
God most full and All-sufficient;  
Sweetest, Kindest, Fairest, Loving,  
And thy Kindness still improving;  
All that's Good and Perfect, we  
Can at once discern in Thee.  
All thy noblest Gifts and Light  
Move me not, nor  excite  
My faint Wishes, only Thee,  
Lord, I pant and long to see.  
O my Heart can never rest  
Satisfied within my Breast,  
Till my Thoughts above can rise,  
All created Joys despise,  
Far above all Blessings soar,  
And with Thee thyself adore.   

Jesus, O my Love, my Spouse,  
Lord of purest, chastest Vows,  
To Whom humble Nature bows.   

O who'll give swift Wings to Me,  
That I might, from Fetters free,  
Fly to Heaven, and rest with Thee!   

When, O when, Lord, shall my Heart  
Gain in Thee, my Love, a Part,  
And discern how sweet thou art!   

When shall I from Sins at leisure,  
And possessed with sacred Pleasure,  
Long and Love beyond all Measure!   

Oft I sigh, and oft I groan,  
Much my Suffering, loud my Moan  
In this Vale of Tears alone.   

Oft disturbed, distracted I,  
Hindered, clouded, fettered ,  
And can't to thy Embraces fly.   

Let my Sighs, my Groan move Thee,  
Tho distressed on Earth, I love Thee;  
Let my Sighs and Groan move Thee!   

Jesus, O Eternal Light!  
With Immortal Glories bright!  
Comfort of the wand'ring Soul!   

Tho my Language Silence be,  
Silence can be heard by Thee,  
While I thus myself condole:  
O how long, how long, Dear Lord,  
When wilt thou one Smile afford  
To thy poor neglected Slave!  
Send thy Hand, O send thy Power,  
Save me from the dreadful Hour!  
From the gloomy dismal Grave!  
Fly, O fly, my God to me,  
All my Joys are fixed in Thee;  
But without Thee Days and Hours  
Only hang their drooping Wings,  
While my cheerful Table sings,  
Furnished by thy kinder Powers.  
Wretched, tangled, hopeless I  
In a gloomy Prison lie,  
Till thy Beams of Light Divine  
From this Bondage set me free,  
And thy Countenance on Me  
With reviving Honours shine.   

Let others other Joys admire,  
Thou, Lord, art all my Heart's Desire;  
Thou, Lord, alone canst please me here,  
My God, my Hope, my Safety dear!  
I'll ne'er be silent, never cease,  
But to thy Throne my Prayers address,  
Till to my Soul Thou speakest these Words of Peace;   Christ. 
(Lo here am I! Dear Soul, I come to thee,  
Since Thou hast called so much, so long to Me;  
Thy Contrite Humble Heart, thy Prayers and Tears  
Broke thro' the Clouds, and reached my Sacred Ears,  
And to assist Thee, lo! thy God appears.)  
And till reviving I  
Can thus in Heart reply;  Believer. 
Lord, I have called and longed for Thee,  
Prepared to quit the World below,  
Since first thy Favours shined on Me,  
And moved my Heart, before too slow.  
I'll seek thee soon; O blessed, O praised  
For ever be my God, my Lord!  
Who for his Slave Assistance raised,  
And would his Mercy's Helps afford!  
What more, Lord, can thy Servant say,  
But humbly at thy Footstool lay  
Himself, His Misery, and confess  
His Sins and native Wretchedness!  
For Nothing, Nothing like to Thee  
Can all Created Nature see.  
O Thou thy Father's Wisdom! may  
The World to Thee their Praises pay!  
O may my Lips, my Soul, my All,  
On Thee with constant Praises call;  
While all the wide Creation vies  
To raise thy Sacred Name above the lofty Skies!   

XXII. Lord, I remembered Thee upon my Bed, and thought on Thee when I was waking!  Believer. 
LOrd, by thy Laws my Heart enlarge!  
O teach Me by thy Rules to move;  
By thy Commands my Sense improve,  
That I may know their weighty Charge!  
That I with reverend Industry  
May all thy gracious Acts recall,  
Express a grateful Heart for all  
That noblest Sacrifice to Thee!  
Yet when I've done my Best, I know  
My Thanks thy Favours can't repay,  
My Merits claim one sailing Ray,  
Since thou'rt so high, and I so low.  
The Charming Face, the Prudent Mind,  
Inward and outward Graces all  
From thy extended Bounties fall,  
And prove our mighty Maker kind.  
Ten Talents some perhaps may gain,  
Some only Two, and some but One;  
But all Pretence to Pride is gone,  
Since All to Thee for All retain.  
Those Odds, no Mines of native Grace,  
But thy discerning Goodness made;  
And Favours there are kindly laid,  
Where Gratitude assumes the Place.  
That Man, who can Himself despise,  
And all his secret Frailties know,  
And from his Knowledge humbler grow,  
May still to greater Favours rise.  
Nor should the meanest gifted Mind  
Disordered or dejected mourn,  
With Anger or with Envy burn;  
But ground for grateful Praises find.  
He'd thy impartial Hand adore,  
Thy Goodness and thy Mercy free,  
Since all at last descends from Thee,  
Thou giv'st the least and largest Store.  
Not Man's, but God's great Wisdom knows  
What Seeds best suit the fruitful Field,  
What Soils the fairest Crops can yield,  
And thence proportioned Gifts bestows.  
Blessed be my God, whose careful Hand  
Kept Me from empty Glories free,  
Lest Insolence and Vanity  
Should my too easy Soul command.  
My meanest, poorest Fortunes I  
Ungrieved and undejected bear;  
And with an easy cheerful Air  
Can to my trusty Guardian fly.  
The Poor, the Wretched, Lord, and those  
Whom most the rugged World despise,  
Are dearest to thy gracious Eyes,  
And thy Domestic Train compose.  
Thy great Apostles, Lord, were poor,  
When o'er the Convert World they reigned;  
Yet ne'er of Poverty complained,  
In their Integrity secure.  
Their Breasts no Guile nor Malice swelled,  
Nor Pride but when they suffered Shame,  
Dear Jesus, for thy Sacred Name,  
And Truth with firm Embraces held.  
He then, who Loves Thee, Lord, who knows  
How large thy Benefactions are,  
Will for thy Smiles his Joys declare,  
And for thy Love's Immortal Flows.  
More blest in his despised Estate  
Than those above the rest enthroned;  
And more at ease, when scarcely owned,  
Than those who grasp a Regal Fate:  
More pleased to be despised and scorned,  
Unseen, unknown, without a Name,  
Than Flutterers on the Wings of Fame,  
With Honour's gaudy Arms adorned.  
To Him thy Loves more Glories bring  
Than all Achievements here below;  
And thence more happy Comforts flow,  
Than from the largest Gifts, or wondrous Act can spring.   

XXIII. The Fruits of Righteousness are sown in Peace.  Christ. 
MY Son, I'll teach Thee now the peaceful Way,  
Where Freedom will with Ease around Thee stay.  Believer. 
Speak, Dearest Lord, O speak to Me!  
Thy Rules must all delightful be.  Christ. 
Not Others Counsels, but thy own refuse:  
A small Estate before a greater choose.  
Love to be subject, envied Places shun;  
Pray that my Will in Thee may all be done.  
Obey these Rules, and they'll thy Joys increase,  
With perfect Pleasure, and with perfect Peace.  Believer. 
Few are thy Words, but perfect, Lord;  
And Sense and wondrous Fruits afford.  
O could I keep them faithfully!  
I should from inward Broils be free.  
And only then Disturbance find,  
When from thy sacred Rules declined.  
O Thou Almighty Lord, whose Love  
Rests where industrious Souls improve,  
O grant Me greater Graces still,  
That I may all my Words fulfil;  
And, to be saved at last, obey thy sacred Will!   

A Prayer against Evil Thoughts.  
O My God, I fly to Thee,  
Go not, go not far from Me!  
Help Me, Lord! My God, receive Me!  
Don't too strong Temptations leave Me!  
Wild my Thoughts are, vast my Fears;  
See the threatening Storm appears!  
How, O how shall I subdue it,  
Or unshockt, unhurt go thro' it!  
Lord, thy Promise was of old;  
I'll the Massive Gates unfold,  
Trample o'er the Tempter's Powers,  
Batter down the brazen Towers,  
Set the groaning Prisoners free,  
And reveal myself to Thee.  
Such thy Promise was of Old,  
Grant, O grant the Bliss foretold!  
Then shall all my Tempter's fly,  
Then my wicked Thoughts shall die.  
All my Hope, my Consolation  
In the deepest Tribulation,  
Is, my God, to trust in Thee,  
Is, my Lord, to fly to Thee,  
Is, my Life, to pray to Thee,  
And believe Thou'lt pity Me.   

A Prayer for inward Illumination.  

FILL, Holy Jesus, fill my Soul  
With inward Light! The Clouds control,  
Which now about my Judgement roll!   

Keep me from Wander, set me free  
From Tempter's Force and Subtlety;  
And Fight, my God, O Fight for Me!   

Beat down my Brutish Lusts! subdue  
Those Fiends which now my Peace pursue;  
That I may Praise on Praise renew!   

That in a Conscience clear and sound,  
A Palace may for God be found,  
And all with Heavenly Hymns resound.   

Lord, quell the Storm, the Surges bind,  
And hush the rugged Northern Wind,  
That I a Halcyon Calm may find!   

Send out thy Light, thy Truth Divine,  
That they around the World may shine,  
And let, O let some Sparks be Mine!   

My Soul's a barren Wild; O show  
Thy fertilizing Grace! Imbue  
My Heart with thy Celestial Dew!   

With pure Devotion's gentle Rain  
Moisten and warm the sandy Plain,  
Till all a fruitful Verdure gain!   

Lord, raise my Soul with Sins oppressed,  
And O inspire my panting Breast  
With Sighs for thy Eternal Rest!   

Till by that Prelude ravished, I  
On Wings of Rapture mount the Sky,  
Lulled with Immortal Harmony.   

From Creature-Comforts set me free;  
From all Created Vanity,  
O Dearest Saviour, rescue Me!   

My Doglike Appetite renews,  
And Sorrow all my Steps pursues,  
When I those little Comforts use.   

O bind me fast with Bands of Love,  
That I from Thee may ne'er remove,  
Till with thyself, the Dearest Object, fixed above.    

XXIV. Be not Wise overmuch.  Christ. 
DOn't be too Curious, nor with empty Cares  
Engage thy Thoughts in vexing Snares:  
What's this or That to Thee?  
Thy Business is to follow Me:  
What's Thy Concern if Men be So or So,  
If thus they Speak, or thus they Do?  
Thou no Account for them shalt give,  
But for thy Self; And wouldst thou wish to live  
In Dark Perplexities?  
All Things I know; and what the Sun can see  
Is visible and plain to Me:  
I all Affairs anatomize:  
I know men's inmost Thoughts and private Wills,  
And what their utmost Hopes fulfils.  
Leave then such Things to Me,  
And let Peace inhabit Thee:  
Of That let nothing here thy Soul bereave;  
Let Others all their vain Designs pursue,  
Their Words and Deeds shall all receive their Due,  
Since None can Me deceive.  
Hunt not the Shadow of a Mighty Name,  
Nor boast of Freedoms, or of private Love;  
In Thee such Hopes too large a Share will claim,  
Thy Heart with gloomy Fancies move.  
To Thee I'd freely all my Will reveal,  
From Thee no needful Truths conceal,  
Wouldst Thou but watch my Coming carefully,  
And open all thy Gates to Me.  
Be careful then, and watch to Prayer,  
And let thy Modest Deeds thy Humble Thoughts declare.   

XXV. The Fruits of the Spirit are Joy, Peace, Goodness.  Christ. 
THus I, my Son! declared of Old;  
Lo! I leave my Peace with You;  
Lo! I give my Peace to You,  
Not as Worldly Men may do;  
Peace indeed I give to You.  
Thus I promised Mine of old.  
Peace is the Common Wish, alas! But few  
Those sacred Paths which lead to Peace pursue.  
My Peace is Meek, and Humble Judgements guides,  
And loves to live where Patience most resides:  
Hear Me, Obey Me, and thou soon shalt find  
Her Balmy Dews relax thy labouring Mind.  Believer. 
What shall I do then, Lord?  Chr. 

Observe thy Way,  
Thy Words and Deeds with Curious Eyes survey;  
To please thy God alone in All design;  
Nor to another Lord's Commands incline:  
ne'er meddle, Son! with Other men's Affairs;  
With no Censorious Wit augment thy Cares.  
Live but at Home, and Peace shall live with Thee,  
Thy Mind from griping Cares and wild Distractions free.   

But to be wholly loosed from Earth below,  
Earth can't, but Heaven may at last bellow.  
But if thou'rt in a stupid senseless State,  
Don't thence thy Peace and calm Enjoyments date.  
Think not its Peace when thou canst see no Foe,  
Nor well when all things to thy Wishes go,  
Nor all thy Ecstasies and Heats admire,  
As if just kindled by Celestial Fire.  
Man may his Case, in spite of These mistake,  
And from false Premises a false Conclusion make.   Believer. 
How, Lord, then may I throughly know my State!  Christ. 
On Me let all thy Soul's Affections wait;  
Seek not thyself, but with an easy Mind  
Some ground for Thanks in all Conditions find;  
Weigh all Events; be Grateful, Patiented, Bold,  
Nor by each sudden seeming Cloud controlled.  
In Storms thy Soul for greater Storms prepare,  
And still Submission to thy Lord declare;  
Own thy Demerits, and his gentler Hand,  
No more against his Heavenly Justice stand;  
In every Change thy Maker vindicate;  
Adore his Providence in every State;  
Keep Self beneath, thy Master's Praises sing,  
True Peace, true Hopes and Joys from that blessed Source will spring.   

XXVI. And establish me with thy free Spirit.  Believer. 

NO more, if perfect, Lord! should I  
From Heavenly Contemplations turn my Eye,  
But through a Wood of Thorny Care,  
A Heart unheavy, undistempered bear;  
Not out of dull Stupidity,  
But from a Soul serene, and free  
From all created Loves and worldly Vanity.   

Save, Dearest Lord! O save my Soul,  
Lest Cares of sensual Life my Thoughts control,  
Lest outward Wants betray my Mind,  
And I Delights in Earthy Chains should find;  
Lest I, with Troubles broke, should fail;  
And Doubts and Fears above my Faith prevail!  
Unclog my Thoughts, enlarge my Mind,  
Till I may soar, no more confined,  
High as Ethereal Flames, and lose as Air or Wind.   

O Thou, my God, my Life, my Dear,  
In whom ineffable Delights appear,  
Embitter all my Joys below,  
That I no Sweets but in thyself may know!  
From Carnal Goods O turn my Heart,  
Which but a vitiated Gust impart!  
Free Me, O free Me from the Snares,  
Which Flesh and Blood for Flesh and Blood prepares!  
Let not the World's poor short-lived Pride,  
Nor Hell's designing Prince my Thoughts divide!  
Give Me but Strength, and I'll oppose  
The busy Malice of my active Foes!  
Give Patience, that I all may bear,  
And Constancy in Truth to persevere!  
For all those Comforts here below,  
On Me thy Spirit's Fragrant Oils bestow!  
All Earthly Passions, Lord, remove,  
And through my Soul diffuse thy own immortal Love!   

Lo! Meats, and Drinks, and Clothes, and All  
Those Goods for which our craving Bodies call,  
Are but a Burden, Lord! to Me;  
Teach Me to use them so, that all may see  
How lose I to the World can sit,  
And always to the Loss of All submit.  
My Life's not Mine to lose, but I  
Must fainting Nature's daily Wants supply,  
But won't luxurious Stores pursue,  
Lest so the Flesh the Spirit should subdue.  
Lord, let thy Hand direct Me here,  
That I no wild Extremes may fear,  
But safe between the Rocks of Want and Plenty steer.    

XXVII. Take no care for the Flesh to fulfil the Lusts thereof.  Christ. 
WOuldst Thou, my Son, Eternal Joys obtain?  
Thyself, thy All must first the Purchase clear;  
Self-Love will more thy soaringThoughts restrain,  
Than all those Charms which worldly things endear.  
Self-Love attracts Temptations, and betrays  
Man to the Malice of his Angry Foes.  
The Love of Heaven treads all in perfect Ways,  
No Bars can there its lofty Flights oppose.  
ne'er covet that which Thou canst ne'er procure,  
Nor strive to keep what would thy Thoughts enslave.  
Give what Thou hast to Me, in Me secure,  
And all which thy immoderate Long crave.  
Why shouldst Thou pine with Woes, and waste with Cares?  
Wait but on Me, and Thou no harm shalt feel.  
A restless Thought a wicked Heart declares,  
And must in everlasting Darkness reel.  
For All, when gained, would all defective prove,  
And Ambuscades on every hand appear,  
And Storms would still the rolling Billows move,  
The Mind be ruffled with distracting Fear.  
A Mind from all Ambitious Fancies free  
Is happier than with vast Abundance cloyed;  
Vain Wealth, Applause, and Honour's Pageantry,  
Will be with this poor fleeting World destroyed.  
Height can't secure Thee, but a prudent Zeal;  
A Peace ill-founded never long can last.  
New Garments can't a ulcered Heart conceal,  
Nor Thou be better, though not what thou wast.  
In Me thy Strength alone, thy Safety stands;  
I change the Heart, and I reform the Mind;  
Who leaves Me, quickly feels Hell's weighty Bands,  
And from one Danger snatched, will greater Dangers find.   

A Prayer for Purity and Wisdom.  

SHOW Me, Lord, O show thy Face!  
O confirm my Heart with Grace!  
Strengthen, Lord, my fainting Mind,  
Now to worthless Cares inclined:  
Wash my Eyes from needless Tears!  
Purge my Soul from Doubts and Fears!  
Purge it from impure Desires,  
If it Gold or Dirt admires:  
All alas! is Transitory;  
All a Fiction, all a Story;  
All a Blast, an empty Lie,  
All vexatious Vanity!  
Why should I a Shade pursue?  
I alas! am dying too.  
Give Me Wisdom, Lord, to see  
All's but Dirt compared with Thee.  
Heavenly Wisdom, Jesus! send Me!  
That, while common Sweets attend Me,  
I may fix my Heart above,  
And Thee more than all things love.   

Teach Me, Lord, to know Thee more,  
Show Me all the wondrous Store  
Of Mysterious Providence,  
And enlarge my Soul and Sense!   

If Thou make Me truly Wise,  
I'll the fawning World despise;  
Bear with humble Patience those  
Who my Peaceful Course oppose.  
Wisdom always keeps the Field,  
Won't to noisy Language yield,  
Scorns the Fool's preposterous choice,  
Scorns the Sirens charming Voice;  
Walks in Holy Paths secure,  
Of Divine Protection sure.  
Send it, O my Saviour, send it,  
I'll with humblest Vows attend it.    

XXVIII. Thou shalt be hid from the Scourge of the Tongue.  Christ. 

MY Son, ne'er murmur, though the World accuse  
Thy spotless Name, thy Innocence abuse.  
When that's all past, thy modest Thoughts must own  
Thy Self still worse, as to thy Self best known;  
They charge Thee deep, but Thou canst quickly find  
Gild deeper far disturb thy conscious Mind.  
Try to be pure indeed; some Words have proved  
Blest healing Balms, though first by Malice moved.  
Live hushed in Silence, though thy Fate's severe,  
And undisturbed their lavish Language hear;  
True Innocence will heavenly Beauties show  
Through all that noisome Dirt the villain World can throw.   

No real Peace their hinder Words could raise,  
It's equal to Thee if they Curse or Praise,  
Thou'lt still remain unalter'd, still the same,  
How e'er they mangle thy advancing Fame.  
In Me thy Peace, thy real Glory lies;  
And He who can the common World despise,  
Who neither fawns, nor fears a snarling Age,  
May in those Sweets of endless Peace engage;  
From senseless Fears and Love's Distractions rise,  
The Soul well poised above the World's encumbrance flies,    

XXIX. Count it all Joy when ye fall into divers Temptations.  Bel. 

BLESSED, Lord, O blessed be thy great Name,  
From whom my Sufferings gently came,  
Who with a Father's tender hands,  
Such Trials for his Son commands!  
They come! They come! nor can I fly,  
But open to their Lashes lie;  
Only in thy extended Arms  
I hope to rest secured from Harms.  
Let, Lord, O let thy Rod to Me  
Correction and Instruction be!  
Lord, of myself, with fretful Rage  
I'd still against thy Hand engage;  
No Patience I, no humble Mind  
Within my wretched Self can find.  
What shall I say, dear Father, now?  
Beneath thy weighty Strokes I bow;  
O save me from the threatening Hour!  
Or act me with thy saving Power;  
Till humbler for my Follies grown,  
I may thy wondrous Mercies own!  
I'm Poor, I'm Nothing, but by Thee,  
Save, Lord, O save and rescue Me!  
Patience, blest God thy Patience give,  
And I'll without repining live.  
Be Thou my God, be Thou my Aid,  
And, though beneath vast Mountains laid,  
That Weight I'll uncomplaining bear,  
And shake off all the Terrors of insulting Fear.   

What shall I say my God to Thee,  
But, Do thy Pleasure Lord with Me?  
I merit Wrath, and thence for Woes  
And Sufferings would my Thoughts compose.  
In them, O may I Patience show,  
Till off these rugged Tempest's blow!  
Thy mighty Hand alone can Me  
From all the Tempter's Furies free,  
Baffle his Rage, and break his Might,  
And save Me from approaching Night.  
Save Me, my God, as when of old  
Thou couldst my fainting Heart uphold!  
I groan beneath thy weighty Chains,  
Thy Hand can heal my Wounds, and ease my smarting Pains.    

XXX. My Grace is sufficient for Thee.  Christ. 

LO! I'm that God, my Son, who comforts Thee,  
Come then in Sufferings, only come to Me!  
Comfort thou want'st, and Comforts soon wouldst have,  
Wouldst Thou with greater Warmth my Comforts crave.  
But Thou'dst first to the World's Assistance fly,  
I'm but a Refuge in Extremity;  
But all thy hopes are vain, till thou canst own  
Me, Me the Saviour of the Just alone.  
No Creature-Aids, or Arts, or Counsels can  
Remove those Sufferings which my Hands began.  
Resume thy Spirits then! the Skies grow clear,  
And bright again my Mercy's Beams appear;  
Once more I'll raise thy Head, thy State restore,  
As Job severely tried, was happier than before.   

What? is there any thing that's bard to Me?  
When e'er I promised, was I false to Thee?  
Ah where's thy Faith! Thy sacred Confidence!  
Stand fast for shame! Heroic Faith commence!  
Be brave! be bold! The Time of Comfort's nigh,  
I now on rapid Wings to help Thee fly.  
Let Hell's black Tyrant rage, let Nature fear;  
Thy Temper shake; lo! I at hand appear!  
Why should Futurities torment thy Mind?  
Sorrows alone such dark Inquiries find.  
To Day thou liv'st indeed: and can't To day  
Lay Cares enough in thy uncertain way?  
Such busy Thoughts are vain and useless all,  
Wisdom will ne'er be scared with what may ne'er befall.   

But what can narrow Souls imprisoned do?  
Shamm'd off with Air, and gulled with empty show?  
The gaudy Shadow draws their longing Eyes,  
But swift as Dreams, the gaudy Shadow flies.  
Hell would abuse Thee, but ne'er cares if Thou  
To Sin barefaced or painted Virtues bow.  
If Love of present things distract thy Soul,  
Or future Hopes thy future Fears control,  
Stand fast! believe me! on my Mercy rest!  
Perhaps when Sorrows most assault thy Breast,  
When Hopes all ruined, Joys all lost appear,  
I'm then myself with vast Advantage near.  
Tho things go cross, they mayn't be desperate quite,  
A sudden Prospect may confound the sight;  
And He's too weak, who sinks and drowns for fear,  
When any Means untried to reach the Shores appear.   

What though I lash thee now? or seem to hid  
My cheerful Glories? or in Clouds reside?  
My Methods lead Thee towered Eternal Light,  
thou'rt punished thus, but not deserted quite;  
My Saints more Blessings in Afflictions find,  
Than when the World is to their Wills resigned.  
I know thy secret unshaped Thoughts, and know  
A short Recess, a little Cloud below  
May humble Thee, the Price of Heaven enhance,  
And thy Salvation's happy means advance.  
I gave; I take the Gift I gave before,  
And can, when e'er I please, the welcome Gift restore.   

I gave, but gave my proper Gifts alone;  
I took, yet took not Thine, but took my own.  
Each truly Good, each perfect Gift is Mine,  
Its Nature useful, and its Source Divine.  
Then at my Dispensations ne'er repine,  
Nor murmur, though a sharper Lot be Thine.  
Faint not! Complain not! Night the Morning brings,  
And healing Joys drop from my balmy Wings.  
I soon can make the weighty Burden light,  
And Patience with illustrious Crowns requite;  
And when I sink Thee, or thy Fortunes raise,  
The World my Wisdom will my awful Justice praise.   

Couldst thou be wise, & Truth, though deep, descry,  
Thou'dst ne'er beneath my Rod dejected lie:  
Affliction would thy happy Temper raise,  
Thy Faith would flourish, & thy Lamp would blaze;  
Snuffed by the ruffling Winds to shine more bright,  
But not by roughest Storms extinguished quite.  
Nay Thou'dst be Rapture all and Ecstasy,  
So kindly, though so sharply lashed by Me.  
Thou'lt be a Son if thou endure the Rod,  
A Saint, if thankful to a frowning God.  
Thus to my Friends I oft discoursed of old,  
When I their Business and Rewards foretold,  
You, You my Brethren to my Heart are near,  
As I'm to my immortal Father dear;  
Yet them I sent, not to deluding Joys,  
But bloody Fields, and battle's dreadful noise.  
Not that the World should at their Footsteps fall,  
But to be trampled and be scorned by All;  
Not to a lazy Life, but mighty Toils;  
Not to a downy Sleep, but endless Broils;  
That forth they might the Fruits of Patience bring,  
And in the sharpest Winter's Frosts maintain a constant Spring.    

XXXI. Have not my Hands made all these things?  Believer. 

LORD, wouldst thou have Me come to Thee,  
Where Earth nor Hell shall trouble Me?  
Then I'll greater Grace implore,  
Give Me, Lord, O give me more!  
While thus clogged I ne'er can fly,  
ne'er approach the peaceful Sky;  
Yet I fain would soar; I long,  
And as oft repeat the Song,  
Who will wing me like the Dove?  
Then I'd fly and rest above.  
What excels a single Eye?  
What enjoys a Liberty,  
Like the Soul which longs for nothing,  
Stripped of all inferior Clothing?  
O may I o'repass the Creature!  
Scorn my own defective Nature!  
Live in height of Ecstasy!  
And thy Excellencies see!  
He who can't the World resign,  
ne'er can think of things Divine:  
Hence so few for Contemplations,  
Hence so few for Meditations;  
Still the transient Creature holds them,  
And in treacherous Arms enfolds them.   

But O what wondrous Grace must make  
The Soul those noble Courses take!  
Yet the Soul, while captived here,  
Can the Creatures Fetters wear;  
Not to God himself united,  
Not with Holy Flames excited;  
Little, can but little know,  
While oppressed with Weights below.  
Long that poor polluted Soul  
Must in common Ordure roll,  
Which ne'er looks above the Skies,  
Where the Great, the Good, the Wise,  
Our Almighty Lord alone  
Holds his everlasting Throne.  
All which is not good nor lasting,  
Pleasures valued much, but wasting,  
Quickly all, which is not God,  
Should beneath our feet be trod.  
O how high, how vast a distance  
He who soars by Love's Assistance,  
He whose wise and pure Devotions  
Elevate his sacred Notions,  
Raptur'd and Contemplative,  
O'er the Common World must live.  
High our Wits and Fancies may  
Mount to reach the source of Day;  
High our studious Heads aspire,  
Much attain, and more desire.  
Nobler are those Influences  
Which the sacred Dove dispenses;  
Lesle from all our studious years,  
Than from thence at once appears.   

Some fain to Ecstasy would rise,  
But hate the previous Exercise.  
Passions mortified are grievous,  
Nor can grovelling Sense relieve us.  
Ah! what foolish Lights abuse us!  
Ah! what vain Designs amuse us!  
What strange Spirits delude Us all,  
Who ourselves Believers call!  
How we rob ourselves of Pleasures!  
How we grasp at airy Treasures!  
Moil and Toil, ourselves tormenting,  
And a thousand ways inventing  
How we may ourselves undo,  
And eternal Flames pursue!  
While our Souls are ne'er respected,  
But our Future State's neglected!   

Ah wretched we who think a while,  
But strait lose Dreams our Hearts beguile!  
Our weak Thoughts no bounds can bear,  
Nor the recollecting Care:  
Neither weigh we Words or Actions,  
But delight in vain Distractions,  
Where our lose Affections fly,  
Tho our All's Impurity.  
Cares nor Griefs can e'er retard us,  
Tho the lowest Hells reward us.  
Humane Crimes the former World  
All beneath a Deluge hurled;  
And our inward Parts perverted,  
Make our Actions, when exerted,  
Foolish, senseless, filthy all,  
Deep beneath Damnation fall.  
Let the Heart be pure indeed,  
Happy Fruits will thence proceed.   

What has the Hero done? we cry,  
But ne'er examine How nor Why.  
Those who Valiant, Rich and Fair,  
Those who witty Writers are,  
Those who sing with sweetest Art,  
Or can do the Workman's part;  
Such are courted, such admired,  
But no real Good desired.  
Who'll the Poor in Spirit praise?  
Who the Meek and Patiented raise?  
Where's the living Saint, whose Name  
Flutters on the Wings of Fame?  
None  court 'em, none admire 'em,  
Nor till dead and lost desire 'em:  
Nature outward Gifts adores,  
Grace the inward Man explores.  
We're in Nature oft mistaken,  
But the Man was ne'er forsaken  
Who to God Himself applied,  
And his Lore and Mercies tried.    

XXXII. Except a Man forsaka all, He cannot be my Disciple.  Christ. 
WHat I, my Son, so oft declared before,  
The more repeated, must affect thee more.  
Deny thyself, or never hope to be  
Possessed in full of perfect Liberty.  
Those who their own sole Interests regard,  
The self-fond, eager, curious, wand'ring Herd,  
Who all for soft unstable things inquire,  
But neither Christ nor Christian Rules desire,  
Tho ne'er so gaily trapped, are Prisoners all,  
And soon from their fictitious Glories fall.  
What springs not out from God must quickly fade;  
Let this then be thy Rule of Practice made,  
Leave thou but All, and All thou soon shalt find;  
Forsake thy Lusts, thou'st get a peaceful Mind.  
Remember this; and when thou makest it good,  
All necessary Truths will soon be understood.  Bel. 
But, Lord, this Task one single Day  
Can't end, nor is it Childish Play;  
This one short Rule, without constraint  
Or Gloss, would make a perfect Saint.  Christ. 
Droop not, my Son! nor faint to hear  
What rugged Course the perfect Saint must steer,  
But upward towered the Skies thy Head sublimely bear.  
O couldst thou once thyself deny,  
With mine and my great Father's Will comply,  
Pure Joys and Love and Peace should then around thee fly.  
Thou still must many Things forsake,  
Thou canst Thou of immortal Bliss partake,  
Till thou of all below a just Resignment make.  
Buy then Gold well refined of Me,  
From worldly Wit and Self-indulgence free.  
Grasp at Celestial Sense, and blessed Eternity!  
Aim not at mighty things below,  
On Heavenly Wisdom all thy Thoughts bestow,  
How e'rdespised on Earth the wondrous Largesse grow.  
That true Humility will prise,  
That many preach, whose Life the Truth denies,  
While it like some fair Gem lost in the Quarry lies.   

XXXIII. My Son, give me thy Heart!  Christ. 

ne'er in thy roving Thoughts, my Son, confide,  
They'll fix to Day, to Morrow change their side;  
While to a wretched load of Earth confined,  
Thou'lt suffer always by a changing Mind;  
Now sad, now pleasant, now serenely blest,  
Strait with a thousand inborn Storms oppressed;  
Deep in Devotions now, but soon profane;  
Now studious, quickly in a slothful strain;  
Now wondrous grave, and soon as light & vain.  
The Man of sense that various Humours scorns,  
While sacred Art his happy Life adorns,  
On God, his Polar Star, he'll fix his Eye,  
Furl all his Sails, and not to Windward ply,  
But through rough Tides with Oars his Passage force,  
And to his heavenly Port direct his constant Course.   

Sometimes the wisest Christian Pilot may  
Encroaching Sleeps Lethean Drops obey:  
Some humane Frailties Flesh and Blood surround,  
And selfish Dreams the steady Soul confound.  
They seek for Heaven, but seek for Pleasure too,  
And double Ways with double Hearts pursue.  
So when blessed Mary's Brother left the Grave,  
And, to his Master, Death resigned his Slave,  
To Bethany the Jews in Troops repaired,  
With curious Thoughts; but more alas! prepared  
To gaze on Lazarus to Life restored,  
Than to obey themselves their Lord's reviving Word.  
Clear thy Intention first, direct it true,  
And then with steady steps thy Holy Course pursue.    

XXXIV. That God may be All in All.  Bel. 

MY God's my All, my Soul's desire,  
How can I greater Bliss require?  
Sweet Note, dear charming Name to Me,  
Who hate inferior Vanity.  
My God, my dearest Lord, my All!  
I'd oft the pleasing Sound recall,  
How all things smile when Thou art here,  
But dead, when Thou withdraw'st, appear.  
Thou fill'st the peaceful Soul with Joy,  
Thy Works thy cheerful Saints employ;  
Thy Name in every Work they praise,  
And Trophies to thy Goodness raise.  
Without Thee nothing sweet we find,  
But when thy Grace adorns the Mind,  
Then all things savour well, and we  
Thy Hand in all thy Works of Wonder see.   

Blessed with thy Love we relish All;  
Without thee nothing taste but Gall.  
Here witty Worldlings grossly fail,  
Where Vanity and Death prevail.  
But those who can the World subdue,  
And Flesh and Blood with Scorn pursue,  
Such happy Men are wise indeed,  
Such happy Men to Truth proceed  
From Vanity; from Flesh and Blood,  
To all that's Holy, all thats Good.  
The Creature's noblest Character  
These to its Maker's Praise refer,  
And can a just Distinction find  
Between the whole Created Kind,  
And Him who made them; and between  
What in our fleeting Years is seen,  
And what includes Eternity;  
Between that Light we daily see,  
And that which centres in the Deity.   

O Thou Eternal Light Divine,  
With thy All-piercing Glories shine  
Quite through this gloomy Heart of mine.   

Purge, make me glad, illuminate,  
New Life within my Soul create!  
And raise Me to a raptured State!   

O come! O come blest longed for hour,  
On me thy quickening Favours shower!  
And let me feel thy nearer Power!   

No Joys, Dear Lord, can perfect be  
Till I that happy Instant see,  
And Thou art All in All to Me.   

Still Adam's Lusts in Me reside,  
Not yet, not throughly crucified,  
've bled, but never truly died.   

The Flesh against the Spirit arms,  
My Soul with fiery Discord warms,  
And with unceasing Wounds alarms.   

O Thou whose great Command the Sea,  
The rugged Waves and Winds obey,  
O help! O hear thy Servant pray!   

With thy Almighty Arm surprise,  
And crush my inward Enemies,  
Who still in Arms against me rise!   

O let me all thy Wonders view,  
My Hopes, my Shelter, Lord, renew,  
While I thy Smiles alone, my Lord! my God pursue.    

XXXV. Blessed is the Man who endureth Temptation.  Christ. 

THY Life, my Son! can ne'er of Health be sure,  
Unless thy Heart Celestial Arms secure:  
While hellish Foes thy trembling Heart surround,  
The Shield of Patience must repel the Wound.  
Fix then on Me, for Me resolv'dly dare,  
For Me, for Sufferings, and for Wounds prepare:  
So may'st thou blow the Flames of sacred Love,  
And reach the Palms of glorious Saints above.  
Thy Foes then with a Manly Force repel;  
The Conqueror may be crowned, while Dastards sink to Hell.   

Wouldst Thou on Earth with Peace and Ease be blest?  
Then never dream of Heaven's Eternal Rest;  
Rest is a foolish Purchase here below,  
For Patience all thy Studies here bestow!  
True Peace springs out from Heaven, and not from Earth;  
God, not the Creature, gives that Blessing birth;  
Pains, Sorrows, Tortures, Griefs, Temptations, Woes,  
Wrongs, Wants, Reproofs, Confusions, Scandals, Blows,  
These fox the Love of God must all be born,  
And Patience still the Sufferer's Life adorn;  
These edge true Valour, these the Christian Soul  
Beneath the Standard of their Lord enrol;  
These Trials that unfading Crown compose,  
Those Honours which entwine the Brows of those,  
Who to endure the worst of Earthly Furies chose.   

Or canst Thou dream to live at Peace within,  
Unmoved by Scruples, and unshocked by Sin?  
Such Ease no pious Saints of old procured,  
But Cares, Temptations, Doubts and Fears endured.  
They in their God, and not themselves would trust,  
True to their King, to their Engagements just.  
They knew these Woes could no Proportion bear  
To those bright Wreaths triumphant Martyrs wear.  
Or wouldst Thou, Child! with ease, at once, obtain,  
What they could scarce with Tears and Labours gain?  
No: but on God with Manly Courage wait,  
Take Comfort in him, nor distrust thy fate;  
And to his Honour with a cheerful Note,  
Thyself, thy Body, and thy Soul devote:  
I'll pay thee, and thy suffering State shall be  
A boundless Treasure of immortal Wealth to Thee.    

XXXVI. Be not afraid of them, neither fear their Words; though Briars and Thorns be with Thee, and Thou dwell among Scorpions.  Christ. 

ON Me O let thy Heart securely rest!  
A guiltless Conscience in a guiltless Breast,  
The Censures of a thoughtless World may scorn,  
Above their spite on Wings of Honour born.  
It's Godlike Great in all things to be good,  
And yet by Malice falsely understood.  
Tho Men are blind, God visits Innocence,  
. And to his own will nobler Joys dispense.  
The Faithless World will things at random call,  
Nor could an Angel hope to please them all.  
Great Paul devoted to his Master's Name,  
First pleased his God; then All to All became;  
Yet lashed by silly Tongues, their Sense despised,  
Scorned all their Censures, & by Heaven advised,  
In holy Freedom still his Conscience exercised.   

He all his Strength, his Zeal, his Wisdom used,  
And saving Light through gloomy Worlds diffused;  
The real Price of Humane Souls enhanced,  
And their Instruction and their Health advanced:  
Yet could not he a foolish World restrain,  
Unscourged? unjudged, or undespised remain;  
But when he found the World to Lies resigned,  
Noisy as Seas, and faithless as the Wind,  
Weak and Mistaken, but assuming more  
Than suited with their Wit's exhausted Store,  
With humble Patience to his Maker He  
Referred his Case, whose piercing Eye could see  
His spotless Innocence and Integrity:  
Lest Scandal yet should from his Silence rise,  
Or Fools should think their lavish Censures wise,  
Sometimes He'd check their Follies with severe Replies.   

Why then shouldst thou poor fading Mortals fear,  
Who live to Day, to Morrow won't appear?  
Fear God, but live above their Pride and Scorn,  
Whose Flouts and Censures on themselves return.  
Who wound themselves when at thy Head they fly,  
And ne'er can put their Makes Judgement by.  
Look up to God, but ne'er with Fools contend,  
Tho with their weight, Thou seem at first to bend.  
Dashed with their Impudence, and all confused,  
And undeserv'dly by the Crowd abused;  
Fret not, nor with thy own impatient Air,  
The Beauties of thy glorious Crown impair.  
Wait thou on God, He'll quickly rescue Thee,  
Set Thee from Wrongs and all Confusion's free;  
And as thy Suffering great, thy kind Reward shall be.    

XXXVII. Casting all your Care upon him, for he careth for you.  Chr. 
TO find Me, O my Son! thyself forsake!  
When from Self-fondness throughly weaned,  
More great thy Gains will be.  
Grace full Possession of Soul shall take,  
When by resigning Virtue cleaned,  
And from Relapses free.  Believer. 
How far, Lord! and in what must we  
So freely leave ourselves for Thee?  Christ. 
My Rules in all both Things and Times obey,  
There's no Reserve; but, stripped of All,  
Thou more beloved wilt be.  
Thou of thyself I'm sure canst ne'er convey  
(While Thee the Flesh his own can call)  
A Title good to Me.  
The sooner thou canst lay Dear Self aside,  
The stronger far, the more sincere  
Thy Thoughts to God shall move;  
The sooner I'll within thy Breast reside,  
Thy Soul more to thy Maker dear,  
Thy Minutes kinder prove.  
Some to their God by halves themselves resign,  
And won't on Providence rely,  
But for themselves provided.  
Some give up All, but tempted, soon decline,  
And to secure old Property,  
Throw Truth itself aside.  
Those who at uncorrupted Freedoms aim,  
And Union and Fruition too  
With Me their Lord above,  
Must daily and at once themselves disclaim,  
The Flesh with serious Hate pursue,  
And scorn inferior Love.  
Oft have I said it, and repeat it now;  
Give o'er thyself, thyself resign,  
And inward Peace obtain.  
Give All for All! No blind Reserves allow,  
On God with steady Faith recline,  
And God thy Soul shall gain.  
No Darkness then, no Chains shall compass thee.  
Sigh then and pray, and strive to get  
That self-resigning Grace;  
Then Naked quite, from vain Pretences free,  
Thou shalt, above thy Nature set,  
A naked Christ embrace.  
Die to thyself, and thou shalt live to Me;  
Vain Troubles then, vain Dreams and Cares  
Away like smoke shall fly.  
Then no immoderate Fears shall torture thee,  
No sensual Loves shall spread their Snares  
For thee, but sink and die.   

XXXVIII. Commit thy Works to the Lord, and all thy Thoughts shall be established.  Christ. 

MY Son, be watchful, and thyself command;  
No Slave, but Master o'er the Creature stand;  
Let God, no little Mercenary Tool,  
No fawning Thing thy Thoughts or Actions rule.  
An Israelite indeed, by Grace made free,  
No present Joys but future Hopes can see,  
Looks but askance on what beneath him lies,  
But with an Eagles' sharpness views the Skies.  
Makes every Creature, as by God designed,  
His useful Slaves, as that Almighty Mind  
All to Submissions first to Lordly Man confined.   

Judge not of all Events by what appears;  
False Stories oft abuse our Eyes and Ears,  
God's Help, like Amrams Son of old, implore,  
He'll guide thee better, and instruct Thee more  
Than all thy little Teachers could before.  
Moses, in doubts, strait to his Maker flew,  
The Strength of Prayers that Man of Wonders knew;  
No Dangers He, no noisy Tumults feared,  
While God so quickly to his Prayers appeared.  
Fly Thou too to Him, and with Vows sincere  
Approach thy God, and his Advices hear!  
Then Gibeon Jacob's careless Tribes abused,  
When they to ask his blessed Advice refused,  
And well forged Tales believed, and foreign Dainties used.    

XXXIX. Lest your Hearts be overcharged with the Cares of this World.  Chr. 
MY Son, to me commit thy weighty Cares,  
I'll manage, order, bless thy great Affairs.  Believ. 
I, Lord, my All submit to Thee;  
For vain my little Cares would be,  
Should I through future Secrets pry,  
And not with thy revealed Advice comply.  Chr. 
My Son, Man hotly oft a Toy pursues,  
But when He near at hand the Quarry views,  
Laughs at his Purchase, gives himself the Lie,  
And strait at large his random Fancies fly.  
He's wise who can Himself in little things deny.  
He's most a Christian who Himself denies,  
He walks at large, and down in Safety lies.  
Hell's Prince indeed no fatal Arts forbears,  
But Day and Night he lays his deadly Snares,  
Longs for a straggling Soul, a thoughtless Prey;  
Watch then, to me with strict Devotions pray,  
I'll guard thy Sleeps by Night, secure thy Joys by Day.   

XL. He who glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.  Believer. 
LORD what's poor Man, or Man's infected Race,  
So pitied yet, so kindly owned by Thee?  
How Lord can He deserve thy Grace?  
Or how, should I deserted be,  
Can I murmur or complain,  
If I can't my Prayers obtain!  
This I'll acknowledge, Nothing Lord am I,  
Can Nothing do; and Nothing good contain,  
Defective too and useless lie,  
Till I thy kind Assistance gain,  
And both lose and cold must be,  
Till instructed Lord by Thee.  
Thou art, and art the Same eternally,  
Good, Holy, Just, and all thy Actions so;  
But backward and unactive I,  
And thro' a thousand Changes go;  
And uncertain Vanity  
Has its Centre, Lord, in Me.  
But when thy Helping Hand, sufficient sure  
Without Man's Aids, supports my trembling Soul,  
My State may mend, myself endure  
Unchanged, and reach the glorious Goal;  
And enjoy Security,  
Trusting, resting, Lord, in Thee.  
Can I but cast all Worldly Comforts by,  
Forced from without, or for Devotions sake,  
And to thyself for Shelter fly,  
When Man of Me no Care would take,  
I might justly hope for Grace,  
And again to see thy Face.  
Praised be my God who grants Me all Success:  
So blest, can I vile Nothing! fond boast?  
It should my Self-Conceit repress,  
To think of Grace or Glory lost.  
He, who gapes for Praise or Pleasures,  
Loses virtue's surest Treasures.  
In Thee to glory, to rejoice in Thee,  
Is real Glory, and substantial Joy;  
Praised be thy Name, thy Works by Me!  
This Lord may all my Hopes employ;  
Tho I'm all Infirmity,  
Always all my Joys in Thee.  
Let Fools seek Worldly Praise; I beg but Thine:  
praise, Honour, Worldly Greatness, when compared  
With endless Glories, dimly shine.  
Blessed Trinity, my God my Guard!  
Glory, Honour, Praise to Thee  
Thro Eternal Ages be!   

XLI. I receive not Honour from Men.  Christ. 
THO trampled o'er when others thrive and rise,  
Fret not, my Son! but raise thy faithful Eyes  
To Me; no worldly Scorns shall then thy Heart surprise.  Believer. 
I'm Blind, Lord, lost in Vanity,  
Else, O my God, I soon should see,  
No Creature e'er had injored Me;  
Nor could I now complain to Thee.  
Since oft my Sins thy Throne alarm,  
Against me all the World should arm:  
Shame and Confusion's due to Me;  
But Praise and Glory, Lord, to Thee.  
And till I have my Heart subdued,  
My haughty Heart, to bear the rude  
Assaults of every Creature here,  
And Nothing to myself appear;  
No inward Peace, no sacred Light,  
Can me to Rest or Joys invite,  
Or to Eternal God my wand'ring Soul unite.   

XLII. Not as the World giveth give I unto you.  Christ. 

ne'er with thy own vain Thoughts, my Son comply,  
Nor on a Man for Friendship cast thine Eye;  
Unless thou'dst live involved, unstable die.   

If Thou on living, lasting Truth rely,  
Unmourned thy Friends may live, unmourned may die,  
Be they Love's Circle, but the Centre I   

The best of Men should be beloved for Me;  
Friendship without Me must uncertain be;  
I only bless it with Eternity.   

Die, die, my Son! to all Affections here;  
Thou'lt then no lonesom Rocks or Deserts fear:  
Who leaves Earth's Joys, may to his God be near.   

Search but thy Bosom first, thyself to know;  
Thou daily to thyself wilt viler grow,  
And higher towered thy mighty Maker go.   

But He, who Worth within Himself can find,  
Must to his God's Superior Grace be blind;  
His Spirit only loves the lowly Mind.   

Were't Thou from Love of Self and Creatures free,  
My Grace should flow in mighty Streams on Thee:  
But few the Maker thro' his Works can see.   

Subdue thyself for Me! thou'lt grow more light,  
Thy Mind more towering, and thy Wisdom bright;  
But smallest Toys beloved retard the noblest Flight.    

XLIII. The Kingdom of God is not in Word but in Power.  Christ. 

DEspise fine Words, my Son, and smart Replies;  
God's Kingdom not in Words, but Practice lies.  
My Words clear up the Mind, inflame the Heart,  
Sorrows unfeigned, and serious Joys impart:  
Read 'em, but not with Critic Art or Wit.  
To mortify thy secret Lusts submit:  
Mortification will more useful be,  
Than all the subtle Quirks of empty Sophistry.   

When Thou hast made vast Learning's Circle, all  
Must on one little Point, one Centre fall.  
I teach Men Knowledge, and a purer Sense  
To Babes, than Men can e'er to Men dispense.  
Where I Instructions sacred Light disclose,  
The Soul more, large, more full the Wisdom grows.  
But Woe to Those who Curious Arts explore,  
And slightly pass my happy Service o'er!  
Christ, the great Teacher's Teacher, whose Command  
Bright Angels own, will soon in Judgement stand.  
Examine all his Followers throughly o'er,  
The Conscience with impartial Eyes explore;  
Search all his Churches, as with Torches, thro';  
Expose the works of Darkness all to view;  
And Men of Learned Tongues with judgement's weight pursue.   

I in an instant raise the Humble Soul,  
And make it stretch to Truth's Eternal Goal;  
And in a moment more of Sense to use,  
Than Schools can in a Life's long Course infuse.  
No noisy Words, no Novel Schemes confused,  
No titled Pride, no Arguments abused  
Are heard with Me; I nobler Thoughts inspire,  
To scorn the World, and from its Joys retire;  
To relish, and to seek Eternity;  
To bear with Scandals, and from Praise to fly;  
In Me to hope, my Smiles alone desire,  
And not to foreign Loves or Worldly Gains aspire.   

My Saints, for Love of Me, their Silence broke,  
Knew Wonders, and Mysterious Wonders spoke.  
More Knowledge too by Leaving All obtained,  
Than they before by nice Distinctions gained.  
Yet I to some but Common things disclose;  
To some my Grace peculiar Notions shows.  
In Signs and Dreams some read my Sacred Will:  
Some I with Mystic Revelations fill.  
Books speak to all alike, but all alike  
Can't on the Point of Holy Learning strike.  
I only teach them Inward Truths, and I  
Search all their Hearts, and all their Thoughts descry:  
I give their Undertake just Success;  
And, as I judge it best, with various Favours bless.    

XLIV. Neither make thyself over wise.  Christ. 

MY Son, sometimes a learned Ignorance  
Will more thy Interests advance,  
Than all that Learning which vain Worlds admire.  
To be quite Crucifi'd to Earth below,  
An Ear quite deaf to Sirens Charms to show,  
More Pleasures, more Delights will give,  
Than high in Honour's Throne to live,  
Thy Soul with better Thoughts of endless Peace inspire.  
Turn, O turn thy Eyes away  
From those Offences brutish Fools may lay  
Before thee: Leave them to their vain Conceits.  
He's happier, who from noisy Jars retreats,  
Than He who hopes, alas in vain!  
He may a barbarous Age restrain.  
Stand well with God: If God but smile on Thee;  
Then Fools, of Conquests proud, may see  
've only gained an Inauspicious Victory.   

Blessed God, to what a pass the World is come!  
Men mourn for Crosses,  
And lament their Losses  
By Sea, by Land, Abroad, at Home,  
Spend tedious Days and Nights,  
And renounce their Lives Delights,  
To get a poor Subsistence here;  
But of their Souls they never dream,  
Their Souls! a melancholic trifling Theme!  
For them they'd not an Angel's Warnings hear:  
They hunt for Shadows, and for Flies,  
And the One necessary thing despise;  
Bend all on outward Follies, thoughtless all,  
Unless a Gracious God their flying Sense recall.    

XLV. The Simple believeth every Word.  Bel. 

SInce Human Health and Helps are vain,  
Lord, let me thy Assistance gain!  
Of promised Aids I oft have failed;  
Where none were promised, oft prevailed.  
Men are essential Vanity;  
But all our Health and Hope's in Thee.  
Blessed be my Lord, my God, in All  
Which on his faithful Servants fall.  
But lost, infirm, unstable We,  
A Mass of dull Mistakes and Mutability!  
What happy Man so wisely keeps  
His Soul; He neither nods nor sleeps;  
Rarely mistakes, is ne'er perplexed,  
Nor with Events surprising vexed?  
He, who has fixed his Heart on Thee,  
Alone can from those Rubs be free:  
He when in Sorrow's Chains involved,  
By Thee shall have his Bonds dissolved.  
None e'er was lost, or cast aside,  
Who on thy kind Supports relied:  
Friends may deceive Us; Thou alone  
Art always Faithful, always One.   

O were it so but once with Me,  
My Hopes securely built on Thee!  
My Heart no silly Fears would move,  
And Words of Spite would idle prove.  
Who can all future Ills foresee?  
Or who from sudden Wounds be free?  
I, who to glorying Language yield,  
Am hurt, because without a Shield.  
Men are but frail, alas! decayed;  
Tho by our Flatterers Angels made.  
Whom should I credit, Lord, but Thee,  
Thou great Eternal Verity?  
But Men are Liars, changing, weak,  
And vainly act, and vainly speak,  
Falsely with nearest Neighbours deal,  
And with their Oily Words their venomed Hearts conceal.   

That I should of Mankind beware,  
And of the Adversary's Snare,  
And those who cry, Lo here! Lo there,  
Thou oft hast made thy Servant hear.  
My Duty now I dearly know,  
O may I better, wiser grow,  
Watch o'er my Words, and ne'er confide  
Another should my Follies hid!  
Lest, when I think I'm safe, betrayed,  
I should a common Jest be made.  
O grant me thy Protection, Lord,  
From treacherous Brutes and Hands abhorred!  
From Me deceitful Words remove,  
My Lips with honest Truth improve;  
It's Truth I would in others find,  
O mayn't I be myself to Lies inclined!   

From Tattling and Credulity,  
And Words which out unguarded fly,  
He'll keep Himself, who'd Peace pursue,  
And He'll reveal Himself to few.  
To Thee, great Lord of Hearts, he flies,  
No windy Words his Soul surprise,  
But in his Thoughts and all his Deeds,  
He by thy sacred Will proceeds.  
That I may keep thy Grace Divine,  
I shan't for fond Applause design,  
Nor vulgar Air; but carefully  
My Soul to Life reformed, and purer Zeal apply.   

Man, bloated up with empty Praise,  
May like a slimy Meteor blaze,  
But soon as shooting Stars appear,  
And fall from his exalted Sphere.  
But who in private spends his Days,  
Not gaining but deserving Praise,  
He through his Christian Course walks all in peaceful Ways.    

XLVI. Esteeming the Reproaches of Christ greater Riches than the Treasures of Egypt.  Christ. 

ON Me, My Son, fix all thy Pains and Care,  
For empty Words are only empty Air.  
If Conscience sting, to mend thy Life prepare;  
If not, think what thou for thy God couldst bear:  
Frighted with Words, canst thou contend with Blows?  
Thy selfish Thoughts thy best Resolves oppose.  
Scared with Reproach, Fig-leaves thy Gild would use,  
And with a trifling Plea thy Coward Heart excuse.   

Look through thy Bosom then! O search it well!  
Close there the World and vain Affections dwell;  
Loath to be humbled, or to blush for Sin,  
Thou showest that World still lives and reigns within.  
Hear Me! thou'lt all inferior Scandal slight,  
Tho Malice should her utmost Force excite.  
How should they hurt thee, Son? despise them all!  
They from thy Head can't make one single Hair to fall.  
God's Fear and Wisdom scorns the World's Disgrace,  
And sober Faith will common Fears efface.  
I, the great Judge, men's common Practice know,  
Who bears the Injury, & who gives the Blow.  
I all the Thoughts of gloomy Hearts reveal,  
Yet from themselves the secret Test conceal,  
While to my Sentence Gild and Innocence appeal.   

men's Judgements fail, but mine unchanged remain,  
Obscure to Fools, to Men of Wisdom plain.  
To Mine then, not thy Own Decisions stand.  
The Just unmoved may Fate's last Force command,  
Unvexed with Malice, and unshocked with Lies;  
Not Pride but Reason is his Exercise,  
He knows I search the Heart, and try the Reins,  
No false Appearance  my Doom restrains;  
What Fools as Charity and Virtue prize,  
Casts but an ugly Shade in my severer Eyes.   Bel. 
Just Mighty Judge! Dear patiented Lord,  
To me thy Faith and Strength afford;  
Thou know'st our frail Corruptions all,  
How short my Sense and Wisdom fall;  
Thou know'st what's to myself unknown,  
I then should thy Chastisements own.  
Mercy to Me, O Mercy show,  
And Pardon and thy Grace bestow!  
Thy Mercy's more indulgent far  
Than all our vain Excuses are.  
Tho not self-conscious, I should be  
Unfit to plead my Cause with Thee;  
Without that Mercy, I and All  
Beneath the weighty Strokes of dismal Vengeance fall.   

XLVII. For when He is tried, He shall receive the Crown of Life.  Christ. 

LET not, my Son, those Sufferings born for Me,  
Those Sorrows thy tyrannic Conquerors be,  
But let my Promise strengthen, comfort Thee.   

I can beyond the largest Thoughts repay;  
Sorrows continue but for one short Day;  
Wait humbly, and they fly on Wings away.   

The Time shall come when all that Pain and Noise  
Shall cease, which now thy inward Peace destroys;  
That's short which only Time's short Bounds employs.   

Up! rise to work! with earnest Toils regard  
My Vineyard! then I'll be thy great Reward;  
Writ, Read, Sigh, Sing, Pray, Cease, thy Passions guard!   

Such Exercise with Manly Courage bear!  
That glorious Crown which thou at last shalt wear,  
More Dangers may, and sharper Toils, endear.   

I see, I see the blessed approaching Day!  
No Night shall its Eternal Beams allay,  
But thee to Rest and endless Peace convey.   

Who'll from this Load of Death deliver Me!  
How long shall I a mournful Pilgrim be!  
Such Cries shall never more be heard from thee.   

Death then shall yield, and Life for ever last,  
Thy cheerful Days no Sorrow's Wormwood taste,  
With sweet Society and Splendour graced.   

O couldst Thou see the Saints immortal Crown!  
The Saints, whom senseless Worlds of old bore down,  
Their present Honours, and their vast Renown,   

Thou'dst soon be humble; scorn the Joys beneath;  
For God's dear sake embrace approaching Death,  
And, though by Men despised, Celestial Honours breathe.   

Knewest Thou but This, could this thy Heart possess,  
Thou'dst ne'er complain, but think thy Sufferings less,  
Compared with thy superior Happiness.   

Heaven gained or lost, is of a vast Concern;  
Look up then! through the Clouds thy Lot discern!  
Mine and my Saints advancing Glories learn.   

We, who endured so many Wounds of old,  
Peace now and Joys in full Possession hold,  
In my Eternal Father's Royal Lists enroled.    

XLVIII. For the Things which are seen are Temporal, and the Things which are not seen are Eternal.  Believer. 

O Salem, with Immortal Glories light!  
O Day for ever ever bright!  
Free from Clouds, and free from Night!  
Where Truth's the Sun, and sheds his gladsome Rays,  
Where he diffuses cheerful Days,  
And the same unchanging stays;  
Sink wretched World! O Day Eternal shine,  
That Saints may bask in Beams Divine!  
And may their blessed Lot be Mine.  
Those Days the Saints at Rest with gladness know;  
We find these bitter here below,  
Full of Mischief, full of Wo.  
We're here defiled with Sins, with Lusts ensnared,  
With Bugbear-Dreams and Terrors hared,  
And with endless Dangers scared.  
Wild with too curious Thoughts, and Fancies vain,  
Oppressed with Errors weighty Chain,  
Racked with Wants, and torn with Pain,  
Or broke with soft delights, & all the Tempter's train.   

When shall these Ills be passed? my Soul be free  
From Sins extreme Servility,  
So to think, Dear Lord, on Thee?  
When shall I bathe in Joys immortal Springs?  
And free from wretched Worldly Things,  
Mount on Freedom's airy Wings?  
When shall my Peace be solid, full, secure,  
And firm on every side endure,  
And my Saviour's Smiles procure?  
When, Lord, shall I thy Kingdom's Glories fee?  
And make Thee all in all to Me,  
And for ever reign with Thee?  
Now I a poor, a banished Wretch appear,  
And now a thousand Sorrows bear,  
While by Foes surrounded here.  
Ah to an Exile, Lord, some Comfort give!  
From Woes ray wretched Heart retrieve!  
For in Thee my Wishes live.   

Earth's Comforts are uneasy Weights to Me,  
I long, Dear Lord, I pant for Thee,  
Ah how ineffectually.  
Dull Earth, wild Passions check my Towering Soul,  
When I'd the lower World control,  
Lust, alas! subdues Me whole.  
Thus Civil Wars distract my tortured Breast,  
My Mind, by Rebel Lusts oppressed,  
Loses all its private Rest.  
How great's my Torment while my Mind aspires  
To Heaven, but Carnal base Desires  
Quench the sacred rising Fires!  
O don't in Wrath thy wretched Servant view!  
But with thy pointed Shafts pursue,  
And my struggling Lusts subdue!  
Give Me but Wisdom, I'll the World deny,  
And those Ideas vain which fly  
In my crazy Brain defy.  
Save Me, O endless Truth, from Vanity;  
O come, sweet Jesus, come to Me!  
All my Lusts will fly from Thee.  
Pardon, O pardon, Lord, my wand'ring Mind,  
Which, when for earnest Prayers designed,  
Can such foolish Objects find!  
I love the World too well; and Thoughts will fly  
Where e'er the vain Affections lie;  
And the Tempter's always nigh.  
Oft with my Lips I pray, when, Lord, my Heart  
Will from that holy Duty start,  
And from Thee, my God, depart.   

Truth spoke the Word, The Treasure holds the Mind,  
The Good are all to Heaven inclined,  
But I with worldly Glory blind.  
I love the Flesh, and fleshly Things pursue,  
But could the Spirit the Flesh subdue,  
To my God I should be true.  
Of what I love I love to talk and hear,  
And home the fair Ideas bear,  
And esteem them always dear.  
Blessed, Lord, is He who leaves the World for Thee,  
And by a perfect Victory,  
Lives from Nature's Furies free.  
Calm is his Conscience, and his Prayers are pure,  
And He's of Angels Bliss secure,  
Nor can the Thoughts again of worthless Earth endure.    

XLIX. I have fought a good Fight— henceforth there remains for me a Crown of Righteousness.  Christ. 

MY Son,  
Since from above thou feelest a sacred Flame,  
(For from above those holy Ardours came)  
Longest to be gone, and with a cloudless Eye  
To see my Face, and grasp Eternity,  
Enlarge thy Heart, and with a vast Desire  
Blow up thy Wishes, and advance thy Fire;  
Thank, thank thy God, whose kind indulgent Love,  
To visit Thee, stoops from those Realms above,  
Inflames thy Soul, and with a powerful Hand  
Supports thy Heart, and makes thee firmly stand.  
This neither from thy Thought, nor Labour flows;  
But wondrous Grace the wondrous Boon bestows,  
To make thy Valour shine more dreadful bright,  
To humble Thee before the Ghostly Fight,  
And Thee to Godlike Loves and holy Works excite.   

The Fire may burn, but Smoke attends the Flame;  
And holy Souls whose inward Fervours aim  
At heavenly Bliss, yet never hope to be  
From fleshly Lusts or dark Temptations free.  
They love their God, but with severe Allays,  
Nor can thy Fire without encumbrance blaze:  
Flesh has its own Convenience first in view,  
And can't with perfect Love Eternal Joys pursue.   

Ask not abundance, nor Delights for Thee,  
But what accepted with thy God may be.  
Think well! Thou'lt find my Orders wiser far  
Than all thy Wishes or Attainments are.  
I know thy Wishes, and have heard thy Groans,  
Thou longest for Palaces and glittering Thrones  
Shining with endless Joys, and fixed on high,  
Where God's blessed Sons enjoy their Liberty.  
But stay a while! To Day's a time for Fight,  
For Pains and Trials; thou wouldst glut thy sight  
With boundless Good, but must thy Heats rebate,  
I only AM; for ray approaching Kingdom wait.   

Thou must be longer exercised and tried,  
Have Comforts here, but not be satisfied:  
Take Courage then; be strong to do, to bear,  
A Man quite new, a Man quite changed appear;  
Renounce thy Will, and oft against it move;  
Not Thine but other men's Designs improve:  
They shall be heard when all thy Prayers are lost,  
They shall but ask and have, thy Words and Hopes be croft.   

They shall be talked of, Thou in Silence die;  
They trusted, useless Thou and slighted lie.  
Nature will flinch at this; but bravely born,  
Victorious Silence will thy Life adorn.  
God's Servant Thus, Thus must his Son be taught,  
Thus to deny and rule Himself be brought.  
It's to be mortified indeed to see  
And suffer what's so hard, my Son, to Thee;  
And, though subjected to a Power Divine,  
It's hard rebellious Nature to confine,  
And the resisting Will to God's Commands resign.   

Weigh then, my Son, the Fruits of all thy Pains,  
Their swift Conclusion, and their mighty Gains.  
Such Meditations will no Wounds procure,  
But raise thy Courage, and thy Heart obdure.  
Thy Will, here quitted, shall be gained above,  
There thou'lt obtain thy Wishes and thy Love.  
Good thou shalt have, and never fear to lose,  
Thy Will, as Mine, no private Interest choose;  
None shall resist Thee there, nor stop thy Way,  
But to thy utmost Hopes thy Soul convey.  
I'll give thee Honours for Disgraces past,  
For Sorrows Praises, and a Throne to last,  
Tho when on Earth beneath the meanest cast.  
Thus shall the Fruits of just Obedience shine,  
And humblest Penitents obtain Rewards Divine.   

O then to human just Commands submit,  
Beneath their Laws with humble Patience sit,  
Thy King's, thy Friends, thy Parents, Pastor's Will  
Take well, and with sincere Address fulfil.  
Let Brutes in various ways their Thoughts engage,  
Enjoy the Praises of a flattering Age,  
Brag of a thousand Honours, spread their Fames,  
And to the Stars exalt their lofty Names:  
Boast not of such Achievements, but when Grace  
Makes Self to God resign its darling place;  
Come Life, come Death, let Love thy Heart inflame,  
And in new Hymns of Praise thy gracious Lord proclaim.    

L. Turn Thee unto Me, and have Mercy on Me, for I am desolate and afflicted.  Bel. 

MY God, dear holy Father! may  
My Soul Eternal Blessings pay  
To Thee, whose just Resolves have stood,  
Whose Deeds are always kind and good.  
Let Me, blessed Lord, rejoice in Thee,  
But not in other Men nor Me.  
Thou, Lord, canst all my Hopes employ,  
My Crown, my Glory, and my Joy.  
Ah, to what can I pretend,  
But what God himself must send!  
All is thine, from thee it flowed;  
But my Age is, Lord, bestowed  
All in Sorrows, all in Tears,  
All in tedious Doubts and Fears,  
While the Tyrant Lust appears.   

Lord, give thy children's Peace to Me,  
Who feed in Comforts light with Thee!  
Thy Peace, thy heavenly Gifts infuse,  
And I'll thy Holy Gifts produce,  
And all to sing thy Praises use.  
But shouldst Thou, dear Lord, withdraw,  
I should soon forget thy Law:  
Such a Change would make me droop,  
Make me tremble, make me stoop;  
Not as when I felt the Streams  
Of thy Mercies lively Beams,  
And beneath thy Wings could be  
From designed Temptations free.   

The Time, O righteous Father's, now  
Which must thy faithful Servant prove,  
This happy Moment, Lord, will show  
My suffering, patiented, lasting Love.  
That Time, Dear Father! known of old  
To Thee, has laid its hands on Me,  
When outward Woes my Life should hold,  
But still my Heart should live to Thee.  
I, though grossly slighted here,  
I the weight of Passions bear,  
Yet from thence should quickly rise,  
And above the lofty Skies  
Bask in thy refulgent Eyes.  
Thus thy Word of old ordains it,  
Thus my present State explains it.  
Lord, it's a Friendly Test of Love  
When I repeated Sorrows prove;  
From thy All-guiding Providence  
The great Events on Earth commence.  
I for my Good thy Scourge have known,  
Now better, wiser, humbler grown.  
Tho Confusion hides my Face  
I implore thy saving Grace,  
And thy Judgements deeps admire,  
While the Good and Bad expire;  
Since thy prudent Orders show  
Equity and Mercy too.   

I, Lord, thy glorious Name adore,  
Tho compassed round with mighty Foes,  
Since I thy heavy Lashes bore,  
And inward Pangs and outward Woes.  
Great Physician, Lord, of Souls,  
Thou whose Hand our Heart's controls,  
None above and none below  
Can such Wounds and Balms bestow.  
Thou to Hell canst cast me down,  
Thou my Life with Health canst crown;  
All the Sufferings laid on Me,  
All my Comforts flow from Thee.   

In thy blessed Hands, Dear Father, I  
Beneath thy Rod's Correction lie;  
Lash, cut me deep! that I may be  
In all submissive, Lord, to Thee.  
Make me Obedient, Humble, Meek,  
That I thy Will alone may seek.  
Myself I yield, my All to Thee,  
Here, not hereafter, punish Me!  
Thou know'st my Conscience throughly, Lord,  
Each brooding Thought, each winged Word.  
Past, Present, Future Matters lie  
At once before thy piercing Eye.  
Thou my Interest only know'st,  
What to purge my Rust it cost.  
Let me, Lord, thy Subject be;  
Work thy Pleasure, Lord, on Me!  
Ne'er despise Me, ne'er neglect Me,  
Nor for Nature's Taint reject me;  
I thy Jurisdiction own,  
I to Thee am throughly known.   

Lord, teach Me what I ought to know,  
And Love to lovely things to show,  
To praise what only pleases Thee,  
True Worth in what thou lovest to see,  
While what Thou hat'st grows vile to Me.  
Let me never judge by sight,  
Nor in empty Tales delight;  
Wisdom's Methods let me learn,  
And superior Things discern  
From those little Toys below,  
And thy Laws exactly know.   

men's Senses oft in Judgement fail,  
And Toys on Earthy Minds prevail,  
Who only grasp at what they see,  
And scorn Invisibility;  
Who, though the Rabble lift them high,  
May still in common Ordure lie.  
For when Cheats the Cheaters praise,  
When the Vain their Fellows raise,  
When the Blind conducts the Blind,  
When the weak a Guide designed,  
All's Deceit from first to last,  
All their Praise an empty Blast:  
For a Man's repute should be  
Only as He's prized by Thee.    

LI. Who hath despised the Day of small things?  Christ. 

MY Son,  
Tho now thy inward Flames supremely shine,  
Thy Prayers are Raptures, and thy Flights Divine;  
Yet Nature's Weakness oft will Lure thee down,  
And Life's rough Cares thy soaring Fancies drown;  
The Heart still of its mortal Load complains,  
And needs must groan beneath its slavish Chains,  
Since cramped so oft when it attempts the Skies,  
And would to heavenly things, and lofty Subjects rife.   

With humble Thoughts then Holy Works pursue,  
Till coming I thy smothered Flames renew,  
With heavenly Dews refresh the drowthy Plains,  
Bless thee with Peace, & break thy weighty Chains.  
Thy Heart enlarged thro' Scripture-Vails shall rove,  
And Thou to run my holy Ways shall love:  
Till sure, what e'er thy present Sufferings are,  
They can't with heavenly Bliss, and future Crowns compare.    

LII. I have born Chastisement, I will not offend any more.  Believer. 

LORD, I'm unworthy of thy Comforts & thy Love,  
And thou mayst justly from my wretched Heart remove;  
Vast Seas of flowing Tears could never make me pure,  
My great, my crying Sins might all thy Plagues endure;  
But boundless Goodness, Lord, and Mercy lives with Thee,  
And thy supporting Hand thy fading Creatures see.  
Thou makest my drooping Soul thy wondrous Comforts know,  
And find how far they pass our weak Attempts below.   

What can I do, my God, to gain thy heavenly Grace,  
So slow to Penitence, so swift in Satan's Race?  
I nothing, Lord, can plead, if thou my Crimes survey,  
But Hell and hellish Flames must all my Gild repay.  
I know I merit, Lord, thy utmost Hate & Scorn,  
Nor can my Name among thy Holy Saints be born.  
Harsh though the Reckoning prove, I must the Test endure,  
If I'd thy Mercies Springs, thy Comforts Streams procure.   

What shall I say when at thy dreadful Bar accused?  
What can a Sinner plead, with inward Gild confused?  
I've sinned great God, I've sinned; O Mercy, Mercy show!  
O let my Eyes a while with unfeigned Waters flow,  
 I to Death's black Shades, the Lands of Darkness go!  
A contrite humble Heart thy Bar for Sin demands,  
In true Repentance all our hope of Pardon stands,  
That stills those rugged Storms which o'er the Conscience roll,  
Our dying Gifts repairs, & shields the trembling Soul  
From judgement's dreadful Flames, till deluged round with Sweets,  
The Soul its smiling God in Love's Embraces meets.   

A contrite Heart to 's a nobler Sacrifice  
Than all those Odours which from fuming Incense rise;  
Sweet as those fragrant Oils which washed thy sacred Feet,  
And as it's humble must thy constant Favours meet,  
Thy Arms a Refuge sure from Hellish Rage appear,  
And our Pollutions all thy flowing Mercies clear.    

LIII. Love not the World, neither the Things of the World.  Christ. 

MY Smiles are pure, my Son, unmixed with those  
Poor Comforts which inferior Things disclose;  
Wouldst thou obtain them? Cast thy Clogs aside.  
Thyself within thy private Chambers hid  
There with thy God, not Men, Discourses nod,  
Thy Mind and Conscience there with Sighs unfold.  
Laugh at the World; that sweet Recess prefer  
Before a King's invidious Character.  
For Mine and worldly Loves thou ne'er canst find  
A Time of leisure, or an easy Mind.  
From fondest Friends, and Earth's Encumbrance free,  
There thou mayst dedicate thyself to Me,  
And like a Stranger and a Pilgrim move  
Through wasteful Deserts here to Canaan's Rest above.   

With what strange Joys that happy Man may die,  
Whose Thoughts discharged from Earth's Engagements lie,  
Words can't express, nor curious Arts descry.  
The real Saint the World's Concerns will leave,  
And chief fears Self should Himself deceive.  
Subdue thyself, thou'lt soon the World subdue,  
That Conquest only is a Conquest true.  
He who his sensual part by Reason guides,  
Then with his Reason to his Lord subsides,  
O'er Earth, & o'er himself a King triumphant rides.   

Wouldst thou reach this? Then like a Man begin,  
And lay the Axe close to the Roots of Sin.  
He● down Self-love, and every Thought inclined  
●o vulgar Blisses, or the Creature-kind.  
Self-love alone the Little World confounds,  
That mastered, Peace the quiet Heart surrounds.  
How few completely to themselves can die?  
Their Bird-limed Wings no gallant Heights can fly,  
But here in common Cares entangled lie.  
But those who would at large converse with Me,  
Must from depraved unruly Passions be,  
And from their darling selves and Creature-Comforts free.    

LIV. The natural Man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God.  Christ. 

MY Son!  
Nature and Grace in all their Steps attend,  
Soft is their Motion, and opposed their End;  
Only by men of inward Light perceived:  
Most aim at Good, but are, alas! deceived.  
Sly Nature has a thousand Arts and Snares,  
And only for its own Delights prepares.  
Grace is sincere, and all that's ill declines,  
Cheats none, but all for God and Godlike Works designs.   

Death, Sufferings, and Subjection Nature hates,  
Grace struggling Lust with holy Art rebates;  
Feign would be humble, and would fain obey,  
And not at large in fleshly Deserts stray;  
Love's Discipline, and on its Good would rest,  
And for his sake itself of Self divest.  
Nature for Pleasure seeks, and seeks for Gain;  
Grace only would the Public Good maintain.  
Nature seeks Honour with exalted Eyes,  
While Grace its Honours due to God alone applies.   

Nature Confusion and Reproaches fears,  
Grace Shame, with Pleasure, for its Saviour bears.  
Nature loves Slothfulness and lazy Rest;  
Grace thinks itself in constant Labours blest.  
Nature must have the Gay, the Brisk, the Fair,  
And will against the Poor, the Mean declare;  
But Grace in honest humble Things delights,  
And neither old nor homely Garments slights.  
Nature loves present Things, and lawless Gains,  
And of the smallest Loss or Wrong complains.  
Grace loves eternal things; a Loss can bear,  
And for a Scandal scorns to spend a Tear;  
Has fixed its Treasures high above the Skies,  
And thither nobly raised, with eager swiftness flies.   

Sharp Nature grasps at All, ne'er gives but takes,  
And Private Interest its Idol makes.  
Grace kind and free, no private Interest makes,  
And pleased with little, rather gives than takes.  
Nature at little Creature-Comfort flies,  
Love's Wander, inborn Lusts, and Vanities.  
Grace draws to God and Good, the World abjures,  
The Blush for roving innate Lusts endures.  
Nature for outward sensual Joys inquires,  
Grace Comfort only from its Lord desires,  
And towards a God unseen, unseen Delights aspires.   

Nature walks all in profitable ways,  
giveth, as it Fancies, either Votes or Praise,  
But all its Merits with exactness weighs.   

Grace at its God, its sole Rewarder, aims,  
Nor more of temporary Pleasure claims,  
Than what may serve to feed pure Loves eternal Flames.   

Nature, of Friends and great Relations proud,  
Proclaims its Honours and its Birth aloud,  
And fawns on Greatness when with Wealth endowed.   

Grace seeks no worldly Friends, but loves its Foes,  
No worth in Place or Birth, but Verve knows,  
And with poor faithful Innocence will close.   

The Rich, the Mighty, the Deceitful Slights,  
The Good to Godlike Excellence excites;  
Nature with Want sinks down, no Want pure Grace affrights.   

Nature itself regards, itself defends:  
Grace, by good ways, to God its Source ascends;  
Proudly on no inherent Good presumes,  
Nor high above the wiser World assumes.  
But all its vigorous apprehensive Wit  
Will to its God and Wisdom's Test submit.  
Nature would Secrets know, and News would hear,  
And much in-strange Experiments appear;  
Loves Admiration much, and gapes for Praise.  
Grace seeks Novelties, nor curious Ways;  
Grace knows the World corrupt & poor remains,  
No new, no real lasting Good contains.  
Grace shows us how we may our Lusts restrain,  
Vain Compliments and pompous Words disdain;  
True inward Worth conceals with humble Eyes,  
And to God's Honour all its Means applies;  
Would have that God, and not itself be praised,  
Whose Goodness all its Force from less than nothing raised.   

Grace is a Beam of God's superior Light,  
Bright Emanation from a Fountain bright,  
Election's Seal, Pledge of Eternal Rest,  
Parent of heavenly Loves which warm the Breast.  
And when it Rebel-Nature's Force subdues,  
God yet will more and greater Grace infuse,  
Till in the Man within his sacred Form renews.    

LV. Ye were by Nature the Children of Wrath: But by Grace ye are saved.  Bel. 

THOU hast, Dear God, created Me  
Thy Image and thy Son to be;  
Send Me, O send Me needful Grace,  
And I'll thy saving Health embrace!  
Then I'll Nature's Force subdue,  
Which would Sin and Death pursue.  
I find a carnal Law within  
Which leads my Captive Soul to Sin,  
Against my better Thoughts rebels,  
Till Grace the struggling Fury quells,  
And the bright spreading Flame my inward Gloom dispels.   

I want thy Grace, thy wondrous Grace,  
To check malignant Nature's Race.  
Nature in Adam failed of old,  
From thence the dire Infection rolled:  
And what was Perfect once and Pure,  
Must now Corruption's Chains endure.  
Nature, to its self resigned,  
Is to all that's ill inclined;  
And, with noblest Qualities,  
Like a Spark in Ashes lies.  
This is our boasted Sense, around  
Enveloped with a Gloom profound:  
Knows Good, and Ill, and False, and True,  
But can't its wiser Thoughts pursue,  
Since of Light from Faith derived,  
And of soundest Loves deprived.   

Hence, Lord, thy Laws my Soul delight,  
Thy Precepts, Holy, Just and Right.  
Teach Me from every Sin to fly,  
But, ah! my Body slavishly  
To Sin's, not Reason's Rules, submits;  
And when e'er in wiser Fits  
I some nobler End propose,  
Wayward Nature backward goes;  
All my Thoughts abortive prove,  
And I lose my Heart and Love.  
Hence I Perfection's Way can see,  
And what my Works and End should be;  
But, by Corruption's weight oppressed,  
Still in common Weakness rest.   

To Good inclined, for Grace I call  
To Try, to Hold, to Finish All.  
I All, when that assists, can do,  
Without it nothing Good pursue.  
Dear heavenly Gift! God's welcome Smile!  
Without which Nature's Gifts are vile;  
Art, Wealth, Strength, Beauty, Language, Sense,  
From Grace alone their Worth commence.  
Good and Bad partake of those,  
Love from Grace abundant flows,  
Both the Saints bright Crown compose,  
Both the Paths of Life disclose;  
Love the greatest Grace excels,  
Prophecies and Miracles,  
Knowledge, Faith and Hope may fail.  
But holy Love will in a future World prevail.   

Blessed Heavenly Grace! which canst the Poor  
In Mind, with Godlike Virtue's store;  
Canst humble both the Rich and Great:  
O come! in Me O take thy Seat!  
My Breast with Heavenly Comforts fill,  
And in thy Soul thy Sweets distil!  
O grant me Favour, Lord, with Thee!  
Should Nature's Gifts defective be,  
Thy Grace would prove enough for Me.  
Possessed by Grace, I scorn to fear  
The Tempter's Arts, or Sufferings here.  
In Grace my Courage, Lord, is laid,  
That gives Me Comfort, sends Me Aid,  
Quells ray trembling Enemies,  
And out-wits the worldly Wise.  
Truth's Mistress, Queen of Discipline!  
Solace of Mourners! Beam Divine!  
Bold Conqueror of Doubts and Fears,  
Devotion's Nurse! Parent of Tears!  
Mere rotten Wood or Stubble, I  
Without it worthless, useless lie.  
Lord, by thy preventing Grace  
Guide my Sublunary Race;  
For Jesus sake my Soul embrace,  
Till I in holy Works my whole Enjoyment place!    

LVI. This is the Way, walk in it.  Christ. 

SO far, my Son, as Thou thyself canst leave,  
So far may I thy pious Vows receive.  
Leave all without, and inward Peace secure;  
Leave Self within, and of thy God be sure.  
With perfect Self-denial yield to Me,  
From base Reluctance, and from Murmurs free.  
Lo! I the Life, the Truth, the certain Way,  
Come follow Me, and my Commands obey.  
Without the Way thou canst not go,  
Without the Truth canst nothing know,  
Nor live without the Life below.  
I am that Way which thou shouldst still pursue,  
I am that Truth to which Submission's due,  
I am that Life which must thy Life renew.  
I am that safest Way which leads thee right,  
Truth undeceiving, Truth supremely bright,  
Pure, blessed, unmade, Eternal Life and Light.  
Walk but in Me, and thou the Truth shalt know,  
And, from Encumbrance free, to Life immortal go.   

Keep my Commands, if thou wouldst Life obtain;  
Believe Me, if thou real Truth wouldst gain.  
Put All things off, if Thou wouldst perfect be;  
Deny thyself, if thou wouldst follow Me:  
For endless Bliss thy present Life despise,  
Be lowly here, if thou'dst too Glory rise;  
Take up the Cross, if Thou with Me wouldst reign:  
Those who embrace the Cross, shall Life's pure Light obtain.   Believer. 
Dear Jesus! since to walk with Thee,  
I by the World despised and crushed must be,  
Teach Me to scorn the World, teach Me to cleave to Thee!  
Servants beneath their Masters are,  
And must to suffer with their Lords prepare,  
Life from thy precious Life O let thy Servant share!  
What e'er abroad I read or hear,  
Refreshments all in that, and noblest Joys appear.  Christ. 
My Son, since Thou so much hast heard and known,  
That Knowledge O with holy Practice crown!  
He loves Me best who knows and keeps my Will,  
His Soul I'll with endearing Glories fill,  
And He shall reign with Me on Sion's sacred Hill.  Believ. 
Holy Jesus! Dearest Lord!  
O perform thy sacred Word!  
See! The Cross I gladly bear,  
Since thy Hand has laid it here;  
Thence my better Life shall rise:  
It's my Guide to Paradise;  
Lord, I'll bear it, I'll endure it,  
Never, never, Lord, abjure it.  Believ. 
Forward, Brethren! let us move!  
Jesus now our Guide will prove;  
For his sake the Cross we bear,  
For his sake we'll persevere.  
He's our Captain, he will aid us,  
And through greatest Dangers lead us.  
Come, let's boldly march behind him,  
We in greatest Straits shall find him,  
While our Duties we deny not,  
While from Wars with Hell we fly not.   

LVII. Count it all Joy when Ye fall into divers Temptations.  Christ. 

I Son, in humble Patience more delight,  
(Those Virtues, which a World of Woes excite)  
Than all that brisk Devotion which appears,  
In warm Professors in their calmer Years.  
Thy Soul why should a petty Scandal tear,  
Which should, unmoved, the greatest Scandal bear?  
Fie! let it pass! It's not the first or last;  
Life must a thousand sharper Potions taste.  
thou'rt brave, and canst courageous Thoughts diffuse,  
While like a Hand the distant Danger shows;  
But when a sudden Storm o're-spreads the Skies,  
Thy Wit and Courage sinks, and faints, and dies.  
Think then how frail thou art, how soon subdued;  
To make thee wiser yet, such Tests are oft renewed.   

Thou knowst the Truth; then wretched Fears disdain,  
And uninvolved thou may'st thy Lot sustain,  
The Test with Joy, at least with Patience bear;  
Repress thy Passions; let not others hear  
One Word unfitting from thy Lips proceed,  
Lest such in weaker Souls should scandal breed.  
Grace will both Woes and inward Lust resist:  
And, as I live, I'll soon thy Soul assist;  
With new and greater Comforts visit Thee,  
If Thou with faithful Prayers devoutly call on Me.   

Gird Thee to Sufferings with an easy Mind,  
Temptations oft in their Effects are kind.  
No God, no Angel Thou; but Flesh and Blood:  
And since nor Man, nor purer Angels stood;  
Not these in Heaven, nor those in Paradise,  
Some crafty Sin thy Virtues may surprise.  
But I the Mourning Soul can raise, and those  
Who their own Frailties know, with Godlike Joys compose.   Bel. 
Thy Words are sweeter, Lord, to Me  
Than dropping Hony-combs can be.  
What should I do in Straits and Woes,  
Did not thy Word thy Thoughts compose?  
O may I suffer all things here!  
May I a thousand Tempests bear!  
If I at last my Port may gain,  
If I may endless Life obtain.  
O let Me in thy Favours die!  
Let Me to Abraham's Bosom fly!  
Thy Servant, Dearest God, respect,  
And to thy Kingdom's Joys through peaceful Ways direct!   

LVIII. How unsearchable are his Judgements, and his Ways past finding out!  Christ. 

MY Son, dispute not of that Gloom profound,  
Those Deeps which my obscurer Ways surround.  
Ask not why God that Man to Glory chose,  
Why This to Hell's dark Flames rejected goes?  
Why That should under long Afflictions groan,  
And This exalted mount the sacred Throne?  
These things all humane Sense surpass, nor can  
Man's short-lined Sense unfathomable Judgements span.   

If Hell then, or if impious Men disclose  
A curious Humour, thus their Dreams oppose:  
God must be just, and all his Judgements right;  
Clear are his Judgements, and his Justice bright.  
My Ways are to be feared, not vainly scanned,  
Nor can created Sense beneath the dreadful Burden stand.   

Ask not what Grace was on the Saints bestowed?  
Who reigns the Greatest near their smiling God?  
Dispute not what their Interests are above,  
Nor seek by them to gain their Maker's Love.  
Some fond dote on those extinguished Lights,  
Such Love not Heaven, but Hellish Art excites.  
Turn all thy Thoughts, thy zealous Loves on Me,  
I raised the Saints to their supreme degree,  
To them my strong effectual Grace was free.  
I, not Desert, their Heads with Honours crowned,  
Their Weakness my preventing Graces found.  
I knew them  this World from nothing risen,  
And them before its first Foundations chose;  
They chose not Me; but I, by pity moved,  
Them through corrupted Nature's horrors loved,  
And by Afflictions surest Test improved;  
With Comforts blest, and Perseverance too,  
And crowned their Faith at last with promised Glories due.   

The First, the Last alike I kindly know,  
And Love alike on all their Souls bestow.  
I only in my Saints am justly praised,  
In Them my Name above the Stars is raised;  
While Poor, Unactive, Undeserving They  
Mere Objects of unbounded Mercy lay.  
Love made 'em ONE, & made 'em Lights to Thee,  
And to be followed where they closely followed Me.   

Saints but instruct Thee in thy Duty still,  
I, not themselves, their vast Affections fill.  
Rapt high, above themselves, they ever prove  
Unbounded Blisses, and unbounded Love.  
They live unchanged, while Truth their Souls invests,  
And holy Flames enlarge their heavenly Breasts:  
They serve Me only, and in that should be  
Loves and Devotions Patterns to the World & Thee.   

It's not thy Work with curious Art to pry  
Into the Mystic Secrets of the Sky;  
What Saints departed do, concerns not Thee;  
Thy Vows, thy Honours all belong to Me.  
Think how thy Sins in Bulk and Number rise,  
How little Goodness in thy Bosom lies,  
How far Thou mayst of their Attainments fail,  
Who now on Joys unstormy Ocean sail:  
But done't to them for Grace or Aids repair,  
I only aid the Poor, I only answer Prayer.   

Can They, alas! thy vain Devotions hear,  
They'd ne'er those misapplied Devotions bear;  
They know they merit nothing, nor can do  
What foolish Men with foolish Vows pursue.  
They love their God, their Joys unbounded flow,  
Nor happier by misguided Worship grow.  
Before my Feet their starry Crowns they lay,  
To him who ever lives submisly pray,  
And to the spotless Lamb their Adorations pay.   

Don't in those lightsome Realms at Greatness aim,  
Thy Merits can't the smallest Favours claim;  
Thy Sins, thy weighty Sins, would sink thee down.  
And wouldst thou, thoughtless Wretch! deserve a Crown?  
First be a Child in harmless Innocence,  
From that low State thy happy Days commence;  
Be humble first, and leave the rest to Me;  
Vast as thy largest Hopes, thy vast Reward shall be.   

woe to those haughty Souls who scorn to be  
Harmless as Babes, and yet pretend to Me!  
Heaven's Gates are straight and low, and can't admit  
The Proud, nor those who can with Scorners sit.  
woe to the Rich who fix their Hearts below,  
Whose watery Eyes, when all the Poor shall go  
To endless Joys, with useless Tears shall flow.  
Rejoice, poor humble Souls, my Truth's embrace,  
And God shall you at last in boundless Glories place.    

LIX. And now, Lord, what is my Hope? Truly my Hope is even in Thee.  Bel. 

WHence, my dearest Lord! from whence  
Should I raise my Confidence?  
Whence, while here beneath the Skies,  
Should my Hopes, my Comforts rise?  
Only, Dearest Lord, from Thee,  
So immensly kind to Me.  
When was't well with me without Thee?  
When was't ill, and Thou about Me?  
Keep me ever, ever poor,  
If I'm so of Thee secure!  
Heaven without Thee's all uneasy,  
Earth with Thee would rather please Me.  
Heaven would be no Seat of Blisses,  
Hell would crown my warmest Wishes,  
If that Hell beneath could show Thee,  
If that Heaven could ne'er bestow Thee.  
thou'rt my Love, my chief Desire;  
All my Sighs and Groans aspire  
Only for Thee, only to Thee,  
While my liveliest Hopes pursue Thee.  
When the greatest Wants surround Me,  
When the greatest Fears confound Me,  
From my God alone commence  
All my Hopes and Confidence.   

Others hunt inferior Pleasures;  
All the sweet, the charming Measures  
Of my Safety spring from Thee,  
All things thence are good to Me.  
Oft I'm punished, oft I'm tempted,  
But by Mercy still prevented,  
While his Rod severely proves Me,  
Still my dearest Master loves Me;  
Still thy Strokes are dear to Me,  
As the softest Joys can be.   

God ray Lord's my Hope, my Shelter,  
When in Sorrow's Gore I welter;  
He's my Strength, my only Stay,  
All without him flies away.  
Helps deceive Me, Friends forsake Me;  
Books but doubtful Answers make Me.  
Counsellors with Quirks confound Me,  
Reeds, alas! deceitful wound Me.  
Thou my Help, my Comfort art,  
Thou instruct'st and keep'st my Heart.   

All those things to Peace pretending,  
All Felicities depending,  
Must but vain and empty be,  
When abstracted, Lord, from Thee.  
All that's Good, and Wise, and Great,  
All to Thee their Spring retreat;  
And thy Servants Comfort see  
Only when they trust in Thee.  
Lord, to Thee I lift my Eyes,  
Whence my daily Mercies rise:  
Kindest Father, Dearest Lord,  
Still thy Joys, thy Smiles afford!  
Bless and sanctify my Mind,  
That Thou there a place may'st find!  
That thy Glories there may rest  
In a Heart with Pureness dressed,  
Freed from Sins offensive Pest.  
Lord, as thy Goodness large appears,  
Thy Mercies large, O let thy Ears  
To thy poor Servant's Prayers be kind,  
While here to Deathful Shades confined.  
Protect, preserve, defend my Soul,  
While Clouds and Storms about Me roll;  
Let Grace attending, thro' a peaceful way,  
My Soul to endless Life, and endless Light convey!    
Amen.   

The Christian Pattern paraphrased.  
The Fourth Book.  

Of the Eucharist.  

The Invitation.  
O Come, ye tabouring Souls, with Sins vast weight oppressed!  
O come, and on your Master's sacred Bosom rest!  
My Flesh is Bread, which I'll on fainting Souls bestow,  
My Blood the Source of Life to all the World below.  
Take, eat my Body here each faithful Soul shall find.  
Eat, eat it oft, to keep your dying Lord in mind.  
He whom my Flesh and Blood divinely entertains,  
Lo! I his Lord in Him, and He in Me remains!  
My Words with nobler Sense than Carnal Language shine,  
They're Life and Spirit All, All Mystic, All Divine.    

I. And Reverence his Sanctuary.  Believer. 

THESE Words, Dear Christ! Eternal Truth! are Thine,  
And, like thyself, they're all Divine;  
At various Times, in various Places used;  
Each sacred Syllable  
Which from my Saviour fell,  
New Life, new Light quite thro' my Soul diffused.  
They're Thine, as uttered, Lord, by Thee;  
But Mine, as for Salvation meant to Me.  
I them with flowing Joys receive,  
May they on Me a deep Impression leave!  
They're holy, and they're gracious All,  
And like sweet Dews, or Lovers Kisses fall:  
But me my weighty Gild affrights,  
A wounded Soul no Visitors invites;  
Thy dear, soft Words attract my hungry Soul,  
But Thoughts of inward Gild my forward Haste control.   

Thou bidst, that my Approach with Faith should be,  
If I'd have any Share in Thee;  
That I'd of that immortal Nourishment,  
Accept an offered Part,  
And with a grateful Heart  
My Prayers, for Life's eternal Bliss, present.  
O ye, Thou sayest, with Sins oppressed,  
O come, and on my heavenly Bosom rest!  
Sweet Words! Dear, happy, charming Sound,  
About desponding Sinners echoing round!  
By These poor Souls invited are  
In blessed Communion with thyself to share.  
But who, Dear Lord, or what am I  
Who dare approach the spotless Deity?  
Heaven's lofty Throne's impure, compared with Thee,  
And shall a sinful Soul thy glorious Palace be?   

Who can so kind a Condescension show?  
Whence such a tender Friendship flow?  
Dare I before thy sacred Altars kneel,  
Conscious of inborn Sin;  
Who cruel Pangs within,  
And all a wounded Soul's Convulsions feel.  
Oft have I trespassed in thy sight,  
And dare I now consuming Flames invite?  
Thy Terrors purest Saints avow,  
To them the bright Angelic Armies bow.  
Thou saidst, O Come! else, Lord, had we  
Resigned to Fears and Incredulity.  
Great Noah's saving Ark appears  
The Labour of a hundred lingering Years:  
And can a few short Minutes fit the Soul  
To meet that God, whose Arms the vassailed World control?   

A Cedar Chest contained thy Laws of old,  
Cedar o'relaid with Ophir's Gold;  
Seven toilsome Years that King of Wisdom spent  
A Temple's Walls to raise  
To thy immortal Praise:  
Eight Holy Pays in solemn Feast went.  
A thousand peaceful Offerings blazed;  
A thousand Shouts that Ark of Mercy raised  
To its Majestic glorious Seat.  
What though I only find a Mystic Treat?  
What though plain Bread and Wine must be  
The Symbols of his Flesh and Blood to Me?  
The Legislator's greater far  
Than Laws, though cut by heavenly Fingers, are.  
I'm vile, yet can't one Moment freely spend  
To purge my filthy Soul, or lodge my gracious Friend.   

What Art, what Care the Godlike Moses tried,  
That wondrous Casket to provide?  
What Time, what curious Skill, what vast Expense  
Blessed Wisdom's mighty Heir  
Took, that He might prepare  
A Dome for thy Mysterious Residence?  
But, Lord, what little Care can I  
To entertain so great a Guest apply?  
O how my Thoughts distracted range?  
How soon my Manly Resolutions change?  
How fixed my wand'ring Thoughts should be,  
From all inferior Obligations free,  
When not Angelic Bands,  
But him, who all the Angel-Host commands,  
I to receive with humble Faith prepare,  
And at a Feast of Love with my Redeemer share?   

That sacred Ark, thy Mercy's wondrous Seat,  
By thy peculiar Presence great;  
That Ark, the Symbol of the Deity,  
In that Illustrious Dome  
Took up the noblest Room,  
The Holiest Place, as representing Thee.  
Yet all the Sacrifices there  
Were but the Types of that revolving Year,  
In which Incarnate God should fall,  
The great Atonement, and should perfect All.  
That great Atonement, Bread and Wine  
To us exhibit in a Mode Divine;  
What Flames should then enlarge my Heart,  
When in my Saviour I expect a Part?  
How should I dress to meet my bleeding Lord,  
While every Type great Kings and Saints of old adored?   

David before that precious Ark of old  
Can not his warm Affections hold,  
But danced with all his Might, and loudly played;  
His tuneful Harp he strung,  
And to his Harp he sung,  
When that through Sion's Gates its Entrance made.  
Sweet were his Airs, and soft his Stroke,  
When he'd His Jews to holy Joys provoke;  
God's Spirit on his Heart abode,  
And Prayers and Blessings with his Music flowed.  
Such Zeal that Ancient Type pursued:  
And shan't my Heart, with nobler Heat endued,  
Shan't it with greater Spirit embrace  
The Substance than the Shade of future Grace?  
Shan't I with springy Joys my Saviour meet,  
And at his Altars bow, and kiss his sacred Feet?   

Fools oft to see pretended Relics fly,  
And cast a curious wondering Eye  
On Fanes to Saints Imaginary raised,  
Where richest Silks and Gold  
The dowdy Corpse enfold,  
And Thiefs and Rebels are for Martyrs praised;  
A thousand Pilgrimages past  
They prove but Hell's obdurate Slaves at last.  
O could they rest a while at home,  
And not to follow senseless Fancies room;  
Wonders on Wonders hear they'd view,  
Far more than  Loretto's Shrine could show;  
Jesus, with Love and Mercies crowned,  
Would shed his sacred Influences round,  
And to the Loving, Hoping, Faithful Heart  
Would all his glorious Self, his heavenly Joys impart.   

O Thou great Architect of Earth and Skies,  
Invisible to mortal Eyes!  
To us how wondrous all thy Actions prove!  
And here how sweet, how kind  
Thy Favourites may find  
Th' immense Expressions of Prodigious Love!  
Unfathomable Deeps! how far  
Too short our wretched Intellectuals are,  
When we would sound the vast Abyss  
Of unintelligible Mysteries!  
What Art that Mirroir could compose,  
By which the Souls of faithful Saints disclose  
Their Saviour in a Sacrament,  
And, on his bleeding gaping Wounds intent,  
Eat his dear Flesh, and drink his sacred Blood,  
That Bread of Life, and this immortalising Flood?   

Who can those Capillary Rills descry,  
By which unbodied Graces fly  
Through bodied Symbols to the faithful Mind?  
How pure Devotion's Fires,  
How virtue's warm Desires  
Room in the Sinner with Repentance find?  
What hidden Sweets can Faith descry!  
How sharp, how piercing is the faithful Eye?  
He meets a thousand Graces here,  
Lost Virtues in his Soul revived appear;  
And, though deformed by Sins before,  
This can its Beauties and its Charms restore.  
Nay, the best balmy Symbols may  
New Life and Health to fainting Saints convey;  
While Faithless Souls mere Bread and Wine partake,  
And but a damning Feast of empty Symbols make.   

But ah! how cold, how deadly cold we prove  
To meet our dear Redeemer's Love!  
How we refuse his kind extended Arms!  
Arms which alone can be  
Our Soul's security  
From Death's Tyrannic Force, and Hell's Alarms!  
He purifies our Natures, He  
From endless Torments dearly sets us free;  
Beneath his Shade we safely move,  
And feel the Beams shot from his Orb of Love.  
Why should we then so could appear  
To all his Love's Mysterious Tendries here?  
Ah Blind! ah Rocky-hearted Crew,  
Who can so slow such wondrous Grace pursue!  
More careless as their Master kinder grows,  
And can with stubborn Hearts his offered Loves oppose.   

Were but one single Sacrament designed,  
The World to one sole Priest confined,  
What Shoals would to the distant Temple flow?  
How would they stretch their Eyes  
To see these Mysteries!  
How eager for that Heavenly Banquet grow!  
But when a thousand Pastors wait,  
And all may with their Lord participate;  
When so immense his Loves appear,  
Alas, we nauseate the Celestial Cheer.  
Yet Jesus, Holy Shepherd! we  
Poor Exiles now present our Thanks to Thee;  
Thy Flesh, thy Blood our Souls relieves,  
Thy tender Call our dying Faith retrieves;  
Come all to Me, with Sins vast Weights oppressed!  
I'll give you sudden Ease, I'll give you certain Rest.    

II. Behold how he loved Us.  Believer. 

MOVED by thy Goodness, and thy Mercies, I  
Dear Lord, to thy Assistance fly;  
Touched with a thousand Plagues I come to Thee,  
O be the great Physician, Lord, to Me!  
Hungry and Thirsty, Lord, I bring  
A fainting Soul to Life's Immortal Spring.  
A Beggar I, Heaven's gracious King adore;  
A Servant I, my Master's Smiles implore;  
Formed by thy Hand,  
Lord, here I stand,  
And for my great Creator's Bounties wait,  
And for his Comforts in a ruin'd helpless State.   

Whence is it, that my God should come to Me!  
O what am I, thus graced by Thee!  
How can a guilty Soul endure thy Sight!  
How in a Miscreant can my God delight!  
Thou knowst no Good resides in Me,  
And I my own, my inward Vileness see.  
Thy Grace, thy Goodness, and thy boundless Love  
I own, I honour, and with Thanks improve,  
And for thy sake  
I'd here partake,  
That I my tender smiling God might know;  
O mayn't my horrid Crimes obstruct the wondrous Flow!   

Sweet, gracious God with what respectful Praise  
Should I thy spreading Glories blaze!  
Who for our sakes a mortal Nature took?  
But who can through the Mystic Bounty look?  
What can I think, when worthless I  
May hold Communion with the Deity?  
What can I do; but with a prideless Mind  
Some Means t' extol thy boundless Goodness find?  
Thy endless Praise,  
My God, I'll raise;  
But ever, ever, Lord, my Self despise,  
And from the lowliest State to heavenly Favours rise.   

Lo! thou'rt incomprensible Sanctity;  
A filthy loathsome Sinner I,  
Unfit to raise my sinful Eyes to Thee;  
But Thou, Great God, couldst condescend to Me.  
Lo! Thou canst in a Wretch delight,  
A Beggar to a plenteous Feast invite:  
Thou'dst have me banquet on Celestial Food,  
On Bread of Angels, and Divinely Good:  
Thou, Lord, wouldst be  
That Bread to Me,  
That Bread of Life which from above descends,  
And Life and Vigour thro' a fainting World extends.   

See! see my Soul, whence such bright Loves can shine,  
And Condescensions all divine!  
What Thanks, what Praise are to thy Saviour due!  
How should thy Service, as his Name, be true!  
How salutary, Lord, how kind  
In this we all thy mighty Counsels find!  
The Food all costly, and the Banquet sweet,  
Where we by Faith our great Redeemer meet;  
Thy powerful Cares  
Thy Truth declares,  
Thy Words from Nothing sprung the World of old,  
In less than Nothing now eternal Truths unfold.   

My Lord, my God, Great God and Man! that Thou  
Shouldst towered a wretched Creature bow,  
That thou thyself in Bread and Wine shouldst give,  
In true Believers humble Hearts to live.  
What Sense such Wonders can pursue,  
So True, so Strange, yet not so Strange as True?  
Thou, Lord of All, who hadst not need of Me,  
Yet by a Sacrament my Guest wouldst be;  
Lord, keep my Heart!  
O ne'er departed,  
Till I by thy effectual Influence find  
A Body spotless pure to lodge a peaceful Mind!   

It's thy Appointment, Lord, designed by Thee  
To celebrate thy Memory;  
O may I oft thy Merits here record!  
O may I oft here meet my bleeding Lord!  
And thou, my Soul, with grateful Praise,  
Thy Dear Redeemer's wondrous Bounty blaze,  
Who in a Vale of Tears, a Wild of Woes,  
Would such vast Springs of holy Joys disclose!  
As oft as there  
My Thoughts appear,  
So oft I read my own Redemption o'er,  
So oft partake my Saviour's Merits boundless Store.   

His treasured Mercies inexhausted prove,  
And inexhaustible his Love.  
O then renew thy Watch, thy Thoughts compose!  
With this great Feast thy holy Tremble close!  
So something new, and kind, and sweet  
Thou'lt always in that sacred Duty meet;  
Thy Lord will to thy Heart as lively come  
As if just born from Mary's Virgin-Womb;  
As if the Tree  
Of Infamy  
Just now our sacrificed Atonement bore,  
And all the Soil around, blushed with his purple Gore.    

III. Show forth the Lord's Death often till his coming.  Believer. 

Lo! Here I come, Dear Lord, to Thee,  
That I partaker of thy Gifts may be!  
That I, with swelling Joys, may taste  
That Holy Feast, that Sweet Repast,  
By Thee for humble Souls prepared.  
In Thee, Dear Lord, I all my Long see,  
My Health, Redemption, Strength & Hope's in thee,  
My Crown, my great Reward.   

Jesus! I lift my Soul to Thee:  
O let thy flowing Joys descend on Me!  
I would, with good Zaccheus, fain  
My Gracious Master entertain,  
With Reverence and humblest Vows;  
I'd fain the Son of Faithful Abraham be,  
My Soul would fain unite itself to Thee,  
And Thee its Lord espouse.   

I'm satisfied if Thou be Mine,  
No Comforts, Lord, are valued here but Thine;  
Without Thee Life no Joys can give,  
Nor can my Soul without Thee live.  
I'll oft to wait on Thee prevail,  
Lest, while unfed by Thee, I upward move,  
And mighty Foes and mighty Dangers prove,  
My wretched Heart should fail.   

When Mercy, Lord, thy Tongue employed,  
And sickly Worlds thy healing Balms enjoyed,  
Thou'dst never send 'em fasting Home,  
Lest Fasting should to Fainting come;  
Dear Jesus, be as kind to Me!  
Thy Flesh, thy Blood refresh the fainting Soul;  
And who, prepared, receives the wholesome Dole,  
Life's glorious Heir shall be.   

I feel, Dear Lord, I feel how Sin,  
How Sloth, how want of Zeal prevail within;  
O could I oft with Fervour pray!  
O could I oft my Life survey!  
I'd to thy Holy Table fly,  
Then I'd be throughly purged, inflamed, renewed,  
My holy Vows should be with Joy pursued,  
Which else would faint and die.   

I, Lord, with deep Confusion own,  
To Sin my very Infant-Nature's prone;  
But when I here my Vows renew  
I'd Sin detest, and Good pursue.  
Dear God, that Physic grateful make!  
Tho I receive, I'm slothful oft and cold,  
But should for holy Works be quite unsould,  
Should I that Feast forsake.   

How oft I'm indisposed to be,  
My God, a fit Communicant for Thee!  
But still, at proper Times, I'll strive  
To keep my holy Flames alive,  
And share thy gracious Mysteries.  
This, Lord, supports the Faithful Soul, that He,  
To Earth confined, may still remember Thee,  
Thy Loves devoutly prize.   

Wonders of Condescending Love!  
That Thou, great God of Spirits, shouldst from above  
To those in Spirit poor dispense  
Thy universal Influence,  
And all their hungry Gripes relieve.  
Happy, thrice happy Souls, who swelled with Joy,  
All their Devotions, all their Flames employ,  
When they their Lord receive!   

How great's the Lord! how dear the Guests!  
How true the Friend who then invades their Breasts!  
The Mate how sweet! the Spouse how fair!  
Lovely as fancied Angels are!  
Be silent Earth! be silent Skies!  
Their Grace, their Beauties all descend from Thee,  
Yet  their Beauties to the least degree  
Of thy Illustrious Name, thy wondrous Glories rise.    

iv They shall be filled with the Fatness of thy House.  

LORD, I  
Apply  
My Heart to Thee!  
O quicken Me!  
And let thy Grace  
In Me take place!  
Till with an humble Heart  
Before thy Altars I  
Appear, and take a Part  
In Love's great Mystery.  
Rouse Me, Lord, O rouse my Soul!  
Off its lazy Temper roll!  
Visit Me with thy Salvation!  
Glut my eager Expectation  
With all those Heavenly Sweets which rise  
From that prodigious Sacrifice!  
Clear, Lord, my Eyes, that I may thro'  
The Bread and Wine my Saviour view!  
May I my Saviour's powerful Words believe,  
And Grace from thence, and heavenly Strength receive!  
Wise Angels scarce those wondrous Depths can find,  
The Condescensions of a boundless Mind;  
And what can Sinners do, to wretched Earth confined?   

To be  
With Thee,  
On Wings of Love  
I swiftly move.  
With Heart sincere,  
And awful Fear,  
And with a Faith secure,  
Thy just Commands obey;  
Of my Redeemer sure  
In his appointed way.  
O may I but meet Thee there,  
And, as One with Thee, appear!  
Mercy, Dearest Saviour, send Me!  
And let powerful Grace attend Me,  
Till I melt down with sacred Love,  
And ne'er for other Comforts move!  
This is the Christian's noblest Flight,  
His Body's Health, his Soul's Delight,  
The heavenly Physic for despondent Souls,  
Which kills my Follies, and my Lust's controls,  
Abates Temptations, greater Grace bestows:  
Here Courage bolder, Hope securer grows;  
Faith greater Strength, and Loves a brighter Flame disclose.   

How free  
From Thee,  
Dear Lord, to those  
Thy Goodness flows,  
Whose Love and Fear  
Attend Thee there!  
Thence mighty Comforts flow  
To lay their various Woes;  
And, when they sink below,  
On Thee their Hope's repose;  
Grace and Safety strong and new  
Here their growing Hopes pursue.  
Wishes faint, and cold Affections,  
Mighty Doubts, and weak Reflections,  
Refreshed with this Celestial Food,  
Are changed, and ever changed for good.  
Here Thine thy faithful Love survey,  
And with thy Strength their Weakness weigh;  
Cold, undevout, and in themselves obdured,  
Till Life, Devotion, Heat are here procured.  
Streams will be sweet, where sweet the Fountains rise,  
A constant Heat from constant Burning flies;  
This Fire more lively Flames, this Spring more Sweets supplies.   

What though  
I know  
My boldest Strain  
Can ne'er contain  
That endless Love  
Which shines above?  
Tho no Seraphic Flame  
My narrow Soul inspire,  
Yet I'll submisly claim  
One Spark of Heavenly Fire.  
I'll my longing Heart prepare,  
Free from Pride, and free from Care;  
And, devoutly there attending,  
Watch the sacred Gleams descending.  
What though I can't approach the Spring?  
Nor Vessels to receive it bring?  
I'll to the Rills my Lips apply,  
And catch some Drops as sliding by,  
Some sliding Drops to cool my thirsty Soul.  
Dear Jesus! Holy Saviour! O control  
My Wants! Here poor and hungry, Lord, I lie;  
Yet it's thy Word, Come weary Souls, and I  
Will all your fainting Souls with needful Rest supply.   

I moil  
And toil,  
Oppressed with Sin,  
And Pains within;  
By Woes o're-born,  
And racked and torn:  
Beneath that dreadful weight  
I murmur, Lord, and groan,  
And from this mournful State  
Of Life would fain be gone.  
Oft Temptations break my Rest,  
Sorrows oft distract my Breast,  
Hell's uneasy Weights oppress Me,  
Griefs unwieldy Chains possess Me.  
Whence then should my Assistance rise?  
To Thee, Dear Lord, I lift my Eyes;  
O keep Me safe! O guide me right  
From hence, to reach Eternal Light!  
Thou, who couldst give thy Fleshy, thy sacred Blood,  
By Faith to be my Soul's Immortal Food,  
O let thy Arms embrace Me, Lord, while I  
Here prostrate at thy sacred Footstool lie,  
Till my Devouter Soul approach the peaceful Sky!    

V Who is able to describe his Glory?  Christ. 

WOuldst Thou be worthy to participate?  
To eat my Body, and to drink my Blood?  
Wouldst thou attain a sinless State?  
Be wholly pure, be wholly good?  
Great was the Baptist's Honour, who before  
Myself the Gospel-Standard bore;  
Pure are those Angels, who on constant Wing  
Before my Throne Immortal Anthems sing:  
Yet John, yet Angels will submisly own  
Their Lord is kind, but their Deservings none.   

What then can Sinners plead? or whence can they  
Pretend to Merits, or to Favours due?  
Would they, alas! their Souls survey,  
Or to Themselves themselves be true,  
They'd to the Dust before my Footstool bow,  
No Merit then but Grace allow;  
They'd all my condescensive Acts adore,  
Their own unfit, defective State deplore,  
And with Amazement view that wondrous Love,  
Which at my Table could such Guests approve.   

Thou at my Altars, as a Priest, canst wait,  
Approach my Presence, and my Gifts dispense,  
And Bread and Wine canst consecrate  
With mighty Words of Mystic Sense.  
What Miracles my Language once could do,  
Those Miracles thy Words renew.  
Mean Matter, thence, proves a substantial Sign  
Of Grace Celestial, and of Food Divine;  
And by those Ways which heavenly Wisdom trod,  
Sense sees the Matter, Faith discerns the God.   

Thou speakest; the Matter still the same remains,  
Yet Strength invisible to all conveys,  
The Mind sublimely entertains,  
And Light thro' humble Souls displays.  
Thou seest the Sign, couldst thou my Word believe,  
Thou'dst then the inward Part receive.  
Think then what Grace those sacred Hands confer,  
When they imprint the Priestly Character.  
Think what a glorious weight thy Shoulders bear,  
When thou canst in thy Saviour's Room appear.   

A Priest should always bring the Sacrifice  
Of Holy Converse and an Humble Mind.  
In Him their Pattern vulgar Eyes  
Of Piety and Love should find:  
With Angels, or Angelic Saints below  
He should his holy Hours bestow.  
When e'er He robes himself, his Thoughts should be  
How He may reconcile the World to Me;  
How in his Saviour's Name he'll intercede,  
And how for Sinners with their Maker plead.   

Think then, think how thy Lord was crucified,  
O let his Sufferings melt thy yielding Heart!  
Think how by cruel Hands he died,  
That He to all might Love impart.  
Think o'er his Love, his Life, his Innocence,  
From his Example Love commence!  
Mourn o'er thy murdering Sins with Sighs & Tears,  
Expunge the Follies of thy careless Years;  
Give oft, and oft receive that Food designed  
To rouse the Sinner, and refresh the Mind.   

Mourn too for others Sins! and O advise  
They'd oft remember their expiring Lord,  
And with a grateful Sacrifice,  
For Them his bleeding Wounds record!  
When Thou shalt at my Board devoutly stand,  
And raise thy Consecrating Hand,  
God shall be honoured, Angels shall rejoice,  
My Church adore Me with a cheerful Voice;  
New Grace shall every weary Soul revive,  
And we'll for ever in a blessed Communion live.    

VI Wherewith shall I come before the Lord?  Bel. 

MY dearest Lord! my surest Guide!  
My God, whose Help was ne'er denied?  
What shall I do? O teach Me Lord!  
I'm Terror all, Confusion all,  
When I my Vileness, Lord, recall,  
And thy Majestic Height record:  
I die if I abstain; and I,  
If I approach unworthy, die.   

Show Me, Dear Lord, the perfect way!  
Some Exercise before Me lay  
To fit Me for that sacred Feast!  
It's good, it's wondrous good to know  
What Reverence my Soul should show  
To Thee, to be a welcome Guest,  
To taste thy Banquet worthily,  
And sacrifice a Heart to Thee.    

VII. Let a Mam examine Himself.  Christ. 

THE Priest, the Private Christian, when they dare  
Approach my Table, should, with utmost care,  
Their sinful Hearts survey.  
They should with Reverence and Humility,  
Firm Faith, and just Resolves to honour Me,  
Their Thoughts in order lay;  
Discourse, Receive and Consecrate,  
And in my House with all their best Devotions wait.   

Search through thy Conscience! where some Taint appears,  
With meek Confession, and with mournful Tears,  
O make thy Conscience pure!  
Then, when Thou comest from all Convulsions free  
Of private griping Gild, thou may'st on Me  
Rely with Faith secure.  
Hate all thy Sins; but hate them more  
Which by their swift Returns advance thy daily Score.   

Count o'er the Bead-roll of thy sinful Deeds,  
Mourn o'er that Lust from whence thy Gild proceeds  
As from a Poisonous Root.  
O sigh to see thy Thoughts to Earth confined,  
Enslaved to Passions, and to Lusts resigned;  
And all their baleful Fruit!  
Think how thou'rt lost in outward Sense,  
And how thy Phantosms vain from vain Delights commence!   

Think how thou slight'st thy Soul's Internal State,  
How worldly Joys thy holy Flames rebate,  
How hard to Sighs and Tears,  
How swift thou to a lose Debauch canst fly,  
How slow to Rigours and Severity,  
How fond of itching Ears,  
To hear what's new, to see what's fair;  
And mean and humble things pass with a scornful Air.   

Mourn o'er thy griping Hand, thy stingy Heart,  
How wild thy Talk, how vain thy silent Part,  
How lose thy Manners are.  
Ill-timed thy Actions, vast thy Appetite,  
Deaf to thy God, but fond of lazy Night,  
And still averse to Care.  
Fond of a Fable; Drowsy all,  
When thy poor Soul's Decays for constant Vigils call.   

How Restless till my Holy Days are past,  
How loath to taste of my Immortal Feast;  
How all distracted there  
Thy Thoughts unhinged, thy Passions quickly raised,  
Pointed thy Words, thy Censures loudly blazed,  
And all thy Dooms severe.  
In Blessings mad, in Suffering low,  
Swift in thy boasting Tongue, in thy Performance slow.   

These and thy other Sins with Grief confessed,  
In this Resolve let all thy Sorrows rest,  
Thy faulty Life to mend.  
Then to my Honour all thyself resign,  
And let thy Body, let thy Soul be Mine,  
To Me thy Thoughts ascend:  
So shall thy Sacrifice be sweet,  
And in his Supper Thou thy Dearest Saviour meet.   

Give but thyself in this; no Sacrifice  
Can please me more, no purer Incense rise  
From Altars here below.  
If thus a Man with all his Might repent,  
My Grace shall then his Future Woes prevent;  
And Life on him bestow.  
I'll strait expunge his fatal Score,  
Bless Him with endiess Smiles, and mark his Sins no more,    

VIII. He endured the Cross.  Christ. 

THUS on the Cross I stretched my bleeding Arms,  
And thus my naked Limbs exposed;  
Thus I dissolved dark Hell's malignant Charms,  
And thus thy Wars with Heaven composed.  
I gave my Self a Sacrifice,  
And bore what else thy Soul had born:  
O on my Wounds then turn thy Eyes!  
See how my Brows the sanguine Drops adorn!  
Offer, O offer then thyself to Me,  
A Sacrifice sublimed and pure!  
O be thy Strength, thy best Affections free!  
O may I but thyself procure!  
Give Me thyself; the Gift I'll prise,  
But All without thyself despise.   

Thy Long nothing could on Earth suffice;  
Shouldst thou but miss thy Maker there,  
Thro Me alone in Price thy Blessings rise,  
I all the noblest Gifts endear.  
And canst thou dream large Hecatombs  
Should satisfy what God requires?  
Thinkest Thou I feed on what consumes,  
With noisome Stench, and in material Fires?  
No I thyself, Dear Soul! thy All command,  
Give then, O give thyself to Me!  
I leave my Body in thy faithful Hand,  
I offered all myself for Thee;  
Dearly, I'm sure, I purchased Thee,  
Give then, O give thyself to Me!   

But give it freely; or the Gift will be  
A poor unworthy Sacrifice:  
If I must only have a Part in Thee,  
No happy Union thence can rise.  
A Free-Will-Offering finds a place  
With God, and to thyself assures  
Vast Liberty, and wondrous Grace,  
Which none, while of himself too fond, procures.  
I've said Unless a Man his All forsake,  
He's no Disciple fit for Me:  
And wouldst thou one of my Attendants make,  
From all inferior Service free?  
Wouldst Thou my blessed Disciple be?  
Give then, O give thyself to Me!    

IX. Offer unto God Thanksgiving, and pay thy Vows unto the Most High.  Believer. 

WHAT e'er this Lower World contains,  
Dear Lord, is Thine;  
And since a Free-Will-Offering Favour gains,  
I here to Thee myself resign.  
Lord, with a Heart sincere,  
I freely offer up myself to Thee,  
My faithful Service, and obsequious Fear,  
A Sacrifice of Praise to be.  
When I thyself, Dear Lord, receive,  
And round thy Table smiling Angels wait,  
O don't my glorious Hopes deceive!  
But let it be  
New Life to Me!  
Let Me thy heavenly Grace, thy Loves participate!   

My Sins, Dear Lord, for Love of Thee  
I sacrifice;  
Those Sins with which, from early Infancy,  
I durst offend thy sacred Eyes;  
Lo! at thy Altars here  
I cast them all! O let thy burning Love  
Consume them! Lord, my sinful Conscience clear,  
And all the Stains of Sin remove!  
That Grace which Sin had lost before,  
That Grace of which myself myself bereaved,  
O to my Soul, Dear God, restore!  
Smile, Lord, on Me,  
And let Me be  
To thy immortal Kiss, thy boundless Peace received.   

I've sinned; I'm lost; Lord, what shall I  
For Pardon do?  
I'll at thy Feet with deep Confession lie,  
And all my Tears for Gild renew;  
Atone, my God, for Me!  
To Thee I'll offer up unceasing Cries,  
I'll offer up unceasing Prayers to Thee;  
Look down, O look with gracious Eyes!  
I hate my Sins, I hate them All,  
Lord, I repent indeed! I mourn and grieve,  
O save Me from a future Fall!  
My Sins pass o'er!  
Wash out my Score!  
My Soul with Blood redeemed, with precious Blood relieve!   

I here for Mercy, Lord, resign  
Myself to Thee,  
O don't repay those black Deserts of Mine,  
But in thy Goodness deal with Me!  
My fairest Actions here,  
Poor, weak, alas! I offer up to Thee,  
O let 'em grateful in thy Sight appear,  
Adorned with Life and Sanctity.  
My Soul for nobler Actions wing,  
And Me a senseless Brute, a worthless Slave,  
By thy all-prudent Conduct bring  
To that blessed Place,  
Where well-used Grace  
Shall all the bright Rewards of full Perfection have!   

Lord, at thy Feet I humbly lay  
My just Desire,  
For Friends, Relations, Benefactors pray,  
And all who my Relief require,  
For them thy Aids dispose!  
From Pains, from Dangers, from Afflictions free,  
Let them thy dear reviving Smiles disclose,  
And sing their grateful Hymns to Thee!  
Where others, Lord, have injured Me,  
Where I have injured others, O forgive,  
O let our numerous Failures be  
All gently passed,  
And we at last  
In mutual Charity, and God's Embraces live,   

Lord, let our doubtful Hearts be free  
From Jealousy!  
From Wrath, from Malice, all those Crimes which we  
Oft in each others Tempers see;  
And let thy Grace remove  
What  Distrust in Christian Souls can raise,  
Or Charity confound, or murder Love,  
Or Nature's crazy State betrays.  
Mercy, we Mercy, Lord, implore,  
On needy Souls thy Mercy, Lord, bestow!  
And Grace from thy unbounded Store!  
Till happy we  
May live with Thee,  
Where endless Mercy reigns, and boundless Pleasures flow.    

X. Not forsaking the Assembling of yourselves together, as the Manner of some is.  Christ 

WOuldst Thou thy Passions utmost Rage command?  
Wouldst Thou against infernal Malice stand?  
More watchful yet, and stronger grow?  
Here the Springs of Mercy flow;  
Here I every Grace bestow;  
Here my Servants kindly know.  
Oft at my Altars, oft prepared appear,  
And oft thou'lt meet thy mighty Saviour there.  
Hell knows what Strength my Flesh and Blood can give,  
And tries a thousand Means and Ways,  
And all his subtle Art displays  
To make the doubtful Soul in pinching Hunger live.   

When for my Supper pious Souls are dressed,  
They're oft by Hell's delusive Wiles distressed.  
He'll still among my Sons appear,  
Scatter Care and senseless Fear;  
And, though I myself am near,  
Try to make Disturbance there.  
Scorn then his Terrors, though deformed and foul,  
And let Himself beneath the Burden howl!  
Let neither Sloth nor Coldness ravish Thee,  
Hell's Malice, nor imposing Art  
Enslave or turn thy yielding Heart,  
When it on joyful Wings should fly to feast with Me.   

He'll tell Thee, Holy Cheat! He'll tell Thee, there  
Thy Preparations should be more severe;  
But Thou hast ne'er confessed thy Sin,  
Never let Repentance in,  
Never cleansed thyself within,  
And wouldst now in vain begin?  
If this be true, fly dearest Soul, O fly,  
And at my Feet with deep Contrition lie!  
Before my Priest thy Follies humbly lay;  
He bears my sacred Character,  
And his absolving Hands confer  
True Life on contrite Souls, and Comforts cloudless Day.   

Throw off Hell's Poison from thy fainting Soul!  
Sins Burden from thy drooping Conscience roll!  
Fly then, dear Soul! O fly to Me!  
I'll thy happy Shelter be,  
Set Thee soon from Bondage free:  
Fly, dear Soul, O fly to Me!  
Name not to Morrow, that's a tedious Day,  
Now, now thy own Internal State survey;  
Don't with some stupid Brutes my Feast forbear,  
Lest They more firmly tied should be  
To save themselves, and honour Me,  
But let those Vows renewed my sacred Feast endear.   

How lows their Love's and their Devotion's Tide,  
Who can so soon from their Engagements slide?  
How dear, how truly welcome's He  
Who preserves his Conscience free,  
Lives in Faith and Purity,  
And is always fit for Me?  
Sometimes thy Soul's touched with an awful Fear,  
Or may for some important Cause forbear:  
But if encroaching Sloth thy Heart detain,  
O shake it quickly off, and I  
Will to thy fervent Bosom fly,  
And thou shalt Loves renewed, and glowing Fervours gain.   

If justly absent, let thy cheerful Will,  
Thy eager Thoughts approach my Altars still.  
Live so adorned with Innocence,  
Lively Faith, and heavenly Sense,  
As may leave Thee no pretence,  
With Attendance to dispense.  
But when the Son of God assumed the Man,  
When his dear bloody Death thy Life began,  
When He shook off Death's Chains, and climbed the Skies,  
When He the glorious Spirit sent,  
New Loves for Loves renewed present;  
And let Devotion's Flames with greater Brightness rise!   

But He who waits for none but Festivals,  
Between them oft to Sin remissly falls.  
Then happy's He, and truly wise,  
Who, by constant Exercise,  
Can to such a temper rise;  
Duty can't his Heart surprise.  
Come then; but Ancient Prudent Rules obey,  
Abhor the busy Fools fantastic Way,  
Break not the Church's Peace, but wisely wave  
Thy whymsied Schemes for Public Good:  
Who cuts the Banks, let's in a boundless Flood,  
Nor can the frighted Boor his drowning Pastures save.    

XI. Search the Scriptures! Lord, evermore give us this Bread.  Believer. 

DEarest Jesus, kindest Lord!  
What Sweets that happy Soul may taste,  
Who feeds with Thee at thy immortal Board,  
That Board where Sinners only fast!  
Where Thou thyself art All,  
Meat, Drink, Inviter, Waiter, Principal;  
More loved by faithful Souls, and more desired  
Than all those glittering Toys by carnal Fools admired.   

Ah! how pleasant, Lord, and sweet  
Should Tears of Holy Sorrow be!  
How should I love to wash thy sacred Feet,  
And prove a Magdalen to Thee!  
But where's that flagrant Mind?  
Where can I Sorrow's Holy Fountains find?  
My Heart should fall in Tears, in Flames should rise,  
Since Thou art here indeed, and seen by faithful Eyes.   

Lord, my sinful dazzling Sight  
Can't thy full Beams of Glory bear;  
Nor could the World subsist, should all the Light  
Of thy Majestic Brows appear.  
It's wondrous Goodness all,  
That God beneath my Cognizance should fall;  
That I should him in holy Signs adore,  
Before whose Servile Form bright Angels bowed before.   

O may I contented prove  
To live and walk in Faith's pure Light,  
Till that Eternal Day shall down above,  
And Shades and Figures take their flight!  
When that great Day mail shine,  
Then glorious Saints shall bask in Beams Divine,  
View all the Godhead's dark Abyss, and see  
That Word made Flesh of old, engulph Eternity.   

When I read those Wonders o'er,  
Scarce inward Joys can please my Mind;  
I scorn what e'er I saw or heard before,  
Till I thy glorious Face can find.  
O witness, Lord, for Me!  
No Comfort I, no Rest can find but Thee:  
And since thy Face no Mortal Eyes can view,  
Let me that future Bliss with Patiented Love pursue!   

Thus the Saints, enthroned with Thee,  
Th' Effects of Faith and Patience found:  
My Faith, My Hope's the same; O may I be  
By Faith with equal Glories crowned!  
By their Examples, I  
Soar with an active Faith to reach the Sky:  
My Rules, my Comforts, Lord, thy Scriptures are,  
And my declining Hopes thy Flesh and Blood repair.   

Life a wretched Load would be,  
If we no Light, no Food could meet:  
But, Lord, thou makest thy Flesh a Feast for me,  
Thy Word a Lamp to guide my feet;  
Oh these I sweetly live.  
Light to my Soul thy sacred Writings give;  
And When I at thy Altars, Lord, appear,  
I find the Bread of Life, the great Elixir there.   

These th' Exchequer-Tables are,  
Where all the Church's Treasure lies:  
To This pure Souls for Holy Food repair,  
To That to clear their Cloudy Eyes:  
That thro' Faith's perfect Ways,  
And thro' the Veil to th' holiest Place conveys.  
Blessed be my Jesus, Light of endless Light!  
Whole Servants wand'ring Souls to Wisdom's Springs invite.   

Blessed, O blessed be thy great Name,  
Dear Maker! dear Redeemer! who  
Couldst Love immense to sinking Worlds proclaim;  
Yet not a Paschal Figure show,  
But wouldst thyself appear!  
Expose thy Flesh the faithful Heart to cheer,  
Pour Healthful Sweets into the saving Bowl,  
While joyful Angels wait around the thirsty Soul.   

O how glorious is the Seat  
By Thee to happy Priests assigned!  
Who still when they thy awful Words repeat,  
Thy Efficacious Presence find,  
And daily feast on Thee!  
How clean their Hands, how pure their Hearts should be!  
Good Works should their untainted Hands employ,  
Their Lips be Love's sweet Springs, their Hearts the Thrones of Joy.   

Thus to Priests their Lord declares,  
I'm all Essential Holiness;  
O Ye, who wait on my Divine Affairs,  
The same accepted Grace express!  
O, with a single Eye,  
With Modest Looks approach the Mystery!  
Your Hands unspotted to those Altars raise,  
Where God, at Your Request, his wondrous Love displays.   

O may We, to Priesthood raised,  
Thy Gracious Influences find;  
For Holy Lives and pure Devotions praised,  
And to internal Peace refined.  
And, though our Lives may fail,  
O let our Tears above our Crimes prevail;  
While We with humbler Souls, and warmer Love,  
In all thy sacred Ways with swift Obedience move!    

XII. He who Eats and Drinks unworthily, Eats and Drinks his own Damnation.  Christ. 

I Love the Pure, and Holiness bestow,  
I love within a well-purged Heart to rest:  
Up then! my kind Approaches know!  
Know who designs to be thy glorious Guest:  
A rise! thy noblest Room prepare,  
Let it be furnished well, and large, and fair.  
I, with a glorious Train, design  
To eat the Paschal Lamb with Thee;  
And can thy Heart embrace a Guest Divine,  
Who would a constant Inmate be?  
Purge then that Old fermenting Poison well,  
And let no Darling Sin within thy Bosom dwell!   

Cast off the Follies of a sinful Age,  
And all the vicious modish Rout exclude;  
Thy Sins with bitter Tears engage,  
And fly, O fly the Godless, Multitude!  
The Lover, when his Mistress come,  
With costly Arras hangs his fairest Rooms,  
And hopes his nice expensive Care  
May to her Eyes his Flames declare.  
But know, shouldst thou a thousand Years enjoy,  
And all thy busy Thoughts employ;  
The Preparation of a thousand Years,  
To what my Justice claims, a small Proportion bears,   

Thou'lt feed before Me; but the Privilege,  
Not thy Deserts, but Grace and Mercy gave;  
Nor would a starving Slave allege  
Desert, should He a rich Man's Bounty crave;  
And, at his Table feasted, He  
Can but submissive there, and thankful be.  
Come then, Dear Soul, but not of Course;  
Approach, but not compelled by Force!  
O come with holy Love, and awful Fear,  
And at my Marriage-Feast appear!  
I call Thee, I invite Thee freely, I  
At thy submiss approach will all thy Wants supply.   

Praise God when I Devotion's Grace bestow;  
Praise not thy Merits, but my Mercy praise.  
If thy Devotions colder grow,  
Thy Prayers, thy Sighs importunately raise;  
Cease not thy Prayers and Tears, till I  
With rilling Grace thy thirsty Soul supply.  
Thou needest Me, I've no want of Thee,  
Nor can thy Knees advantage Me;  
I come to better thy Defective Mind,  
Thou comest a Smiling God to find:  
Thou'dst fain be One with Me, thy Grace renew,  
And with reviving Flames a hoiler Life pursue.   

Don't then my offered Grace, my Favours slight,  
But thy poor Heart with utmost Pains prepare;  
Him, whom thy Soul adores, invite,  
And grasp and hold Him with a faithful Care;  
But ne'er in Preparations rest,  
Nor when the Feast is past unguard thy Breast;  
Be careful when the Banquet's o'er,  
As when a Guest designed before.  
He toils as much who would his Post maintain,  
As He who Wealth at first would gain.  
The Heart still kept will but prepare it more,  
And add new Floods of Grace to those imbibed before.   

What can unfit Thee more to feast with Me,  
Than to be far in Worldly Fancies lost?  
What can a greater mischief be,  
Than a Vain Heart by carnal Joys engrossed?  
O fly the World's alluring Cheat,  
And, to enjoy thy God, from Crowds retreat;  
Of Me, thy dearest Lord, possessed,  
No crafty Thief can rob thy Breast.  
Lo! I am He who all thy Bosom claim,  
I can't endure a Rival's Name;  
Put off thyself then, hid thy Life in me,  
And live from every Care, and every Torment free!    

XIII. With my Whole Heart have I sought Thee, O let Me not wander!  Believer. 

WHO, Lord, will give that Grace to Me,  
That I may close with None but Thee?  
And, to enjoy my Soul's Dear Object, may  
My Bosom, and my faithful Arms display?  
Then shall I all inferior Things despise;  
No Creature shall distract my Eyes;  
My Words with Thee my Life, and Thine with Me,  
Shall soft as whispering Lovers be,  
Or Friends when they with Friends agree.   

This, Lord, my utmost Wish shall be,  
To live, and to be One with Thee;  
That I, withdrawn from all the World below,  
May fonder of Eternal Glories grow;  
Swiftly to thy adored Communion fly,  
And oft to Thee my Heart apply.  
Ah when shall I, Dear God engulphed in Thee,  
Forget myself, and only be  
Ever in Thee, and Thou in Me!   

Thou art my best Beloved, my Dear,  
In whom my Soul's Delights appear;  
Search thro' the World, view all the Wise, the Fair,  
None, None can with my God, my Life compare.  
Thou layest those rugged Storms which rend my Heart;  
Thy Smiles unfading Peace impart;  
Thy Counsels, Dearest Lord, are dark, but wise;  
Thy Way obscured to Impious Eyes,  
Yet plain to th' Meek and Humble lies.   

Lord, how thy Spirit gently blows!  
How sweet thy charming Kindness flows!  
That to thy Own thou mightst thy Love declare,  
Thou'dst with Celestial Food their Strength repair.  
None, Lord, like Us can boast of God so near,  
None to their Maker seem so Dear;  
To make our Souls on Wings of Comfort rise,  
Thy Flesh, thy Blood our Want supplies,  
And lifts us high above the Skies.   

No Tribes e'er gained so bright a Fame,  
As those who bear their Saviour's Name.  
What Creature e'er was to his Lord so near,  
As He whom pure Devotion's Flames endear?  
Man, whom his Maker enters, whom He feeds,  
Whose Life from Mystic Flesh proceeds.  
O condescending Grace! O Love Immense!  
Beyond our Words, beyond our Sense,  
Beyond all Dreams of Recompense!   

What shall I render, Lord, to Thee  
For all thy wondrous Loves to Me?  
A Heart, a humble Heart is all my Store,  
I'll give Thee That; nor can I give Thee more:  
Unite my Heart with Thee, and all within  
Shall Hymns of Holy Praise begin.  
Call then; My Heart shall Echo, Lord, to Thee,  
I'm Thine; O live, My God, in Me!  
That Prayer of all my Hopes the Central Point shall be.    

XIV. Whose Faith follow, considering the End of their Conversation.  Believer. 

O How deep the Treasures are,  
Dear Lord, of thy Immortal Sweets!  
How inexhaustible the Share,  
Which There thy happy Servant meets!  
When I on that Prodigious Flame reflect,  
Which filled thy happy Saints of old;  
When I their Grace, their Love, their Zeal respect,  
Their Acts in Starry Books enroled;  
I die with One Eternal Blush confused,  
By my Own lukewarm Heart accused,  
Which had thy Loves so oft, thy sacred Feasts abused.   

Lord, I blush to think how dry,  
How unaffected there I came;  
My Soul untouched by Sympathy,  
Unmoved by any purer Flame.  
Others, by vast Desires and Loves possessed,  
To Tears unsluced their Joyful Eyes;  
The Floods, the Flames, with equal violence pressed,  
Would both with equal Fullness rise;  
They'd pant for Drops from Life's pure Springs distilled,  
Nor would their sacred Long yield,  
Till with Immortal Food, and endless Pleasures filled.   

O how soon their Faith could pierce  
The Shell of that Mysterious Feast!  
How broken Bread, to Long fierce,  
Their wounded dying Lord expressed!  
But, Lord, how oft my cold Affections fail?  
What Damps my Infant-Heats o'erflow?  
Jesus, for Pity let my Sighs prevail,  
Some Cordial on a Wretch bestow!  
O let my Faith, my Hope, my Love renewed,  
With more extensive Strength endued,  
Only for Manna long, and loath inferior Food!   

But thy Mercies, Lord, are great,  
And can the Graces begged bestow,  
And fill me with Superior Heat,  
And make my Passions fiercely glow.  
Tho short of Heroes, yet thy Grace may find  
Some Seeds in my unmanaged Heart:  
Tho short of Heroes, my aspiring Mind  
Grasps at the better, nobler Part.  
O let my Failures be by Mercy past,  
Till with thy happy Heirs at last  
I may Eternal Sweets, Eternal Glories taste!    

XV. I dwell also with Him who is of a Contrite and Humble Spirit.  Christ. 

WOuldst Thou Devotion's Grace obtain?  
Or inward holy Ardour gain?  
O seek it Early, seek it Late;  
Let thy Petitions prove Importunate!  
With Patience, and with Faith expect the Dole;  
Embrace it closely in a lowly Soul;  
Improve it when it's gained; but leave  
God to appoint the Time when thou shalt Grace receive.   

If Thou no Heat within canst find,  
No lively Flames enlarge thy Mind,  
O let that Thought abate thy Pride!  
Yet not between thy Soul and Hopes divide!  
One happy Moment oft that Gift bestows,  
Which many tedious Years could ne'er disclose:  
God answers oft the Prayer at last,  
Which seemed refused before, ere half the Suit was passed.   

Should Flames rush in at once, the Soul  
Can ne'er their rapid Force control.  
O then with Hopeful Patience wait!  
If Sins obstruct, or Sins thy Zeal rebate;  
Small Sins may oft obscure or hinder Grace,  
(If those be small which mighty Gifts deface)  
But Small or Great, when once subdued,  
Grace may be new infused, or Grace, decayed, renewed.   

To God submit thyself, thy All,  
And ne'er thy lingering Lusts recall!  
Then Calms will soon o'erspread thy Mind,  
In Union with thy mighty Lord combined.  
God's Will shall then thy utmost Long move:  
'Twill Sapid all, and all Delightful prove.  
He's only fit for Heavenly Fires,  
Who, to his God resigned, subdues his Vain Desires.   

A Heart from Earthly Passions free,  
Empty of Creature-Vanity;  
A Heart all Clean, a Soul all Bright,  
Will all the Blessings of its Lord invite.  
The Man who these inferior Things defies,  
The more He, to Himself corrupted, dies,  
Grace Fuller, Swifter, Stronger gains,  
And his unfettered Soul to endless Glory strains.   

He'll see, and Heaven's vast Stores admire,  
And, glowing with Etherial Fire,  
He'll to his Father's Hand resign,  
And His to God's Eternal Will confine.  
That happy Man, who with a single Heart  
Seeks God, and won't from Heavenly Reason start;  
That Happy Man must sure be blest,  
Of God, so warmly sought, and Godlike Grace possessed.   

When He before my Table knelt,  
He Ecstasy and Rapture feels;  
And, from above, swift Flames Divine  
With his bright Soul's internal Glories twine.  
And since his Master's Praise He values more,  
Than his own Comforts, or his private Store,  
To be for ever One with Me,  
Of His Self-Conquests all the great Reward shall be.    

XVI. He filleth the Hungry Soul with Gladness.  Believer. 

SWeetest Jesus! Dearest Lord!  
For whom my eager Passions long;  
O now my pointed Griefs record,  
How weak my Heart, my Wants how strong!  
How lost in Vices, how immersed in Woes,  
Tempted, disturbed, oppressed by angry Foes,  
Tainted without, poisoned within  
With the baleful Weeds of Sin!   

Lord, to Thee for Help I fly!  
For Comfort and Support to Thee  
I, O All-knowing God, apply!  
Who all my private thoughts canst see.  
From Thee true Comfort, true Assistance flows;  
Thy Wisdom my defective Nature knows;  
More indigent than all beside,  
Till with virtue's Sweets supplied.   

Naked here and Poor I stand,  
And pitying Grace with Tears desire:  
O feed Me with a bounteous Hand;  
Inflame my Heart with Love's soft Fire!  
With thy bright Presence scale my gloomy Eyes;  
Embitter what my Soul on Earth can prise;  
To Patience all my Woes convert,  
And from Creatures purge my Heart!   

Lift my Heart above the Skies,  
Nor let it wander here below;  
Let me all Earthly Joys despise,  
And Sweets which from the Creature flow!  
Be thou my richest Bread, my noblest Wine,  
My Love Essential, and my Joy Divine;  
Ever, O Dearest Jesus, be  
All that's sweet and good to Me!   

Let thy Presence, Lord, inflame Me!  
O warm, O burn, O change me quite!  
And to thy Own blessed Nature frame Me,  
Endued with Vigour, Beamed with Light!  
Let Me with Thee in Secret Unions move,  
And melt Me throughly with the Flames of Love!  
Nor, from thy Table let my Heart  
Thirsty e'er or Hungry part!   

Let thy Mercies work on Me  
Wondrous as in thy Saints of old!  
O may, with a Prodigy,  
Celestial Heats my All enfold?  
I sink; but Thou, the bright Eternal Fire  
In Me, make me above the Clouds aspire!  
My Intellectuals six above,  
And refine my Soul with Love!    

XVII. But the Fruit of the Spirit is Love, Joy, etc.  Believer. 

WIth true Devotions, and with fervent Love,  
And with a Heart resigned,  
And with an Ardent Mind,  
towered thy Altars, Lord, I move.  
Thy Holy Saints, thy Servants, Lord, of old,  
Were very rarely in Devotion cold,  
But with Humility  
They'd bow before thy Face;  
O may I so approach to Thee,  
Dear Lord, great Source of Heavenly Grace!  
And with a faithful Soul thy offered Loves embrace!   

I know I merit Nothing, but I bring  
A willing Heart to Thee;  
As if my Love could be  
Raised from some Eternal Spring.  
Whatever Vows the purest Minds conceive,  
I with submissive Veneration leave  
Before my God, my King,  
Nor would I Part detain,  
My All I for an Offering bring;  
Let others Sacrilege maintain,  
I'd with a Heart entire my Saviour entertain.   

O Thou my Lord, my God, whose wondrous Art  
First raised my curious Mould,  
And, when to Follies sold,  
Did the Kind Redeemer's part.  
Let Me my Lord with such firm Love's embrace,  
Such Awe, such thankful Praise, such humble Grace,  
Such Faith, Hope, Purity,  
As that blessed Maid of old,  
When what her Womb's blest Fruit should be,  
With Smiles the cheerful Angel told,  
Lo! I thy Servant Lord! Thy kind Engagements hold!   

So thy great Harbinger, the Baptist, too,  
Tho in his Mother's Womb,  
Before thee found a Room,  
His exulting Joys to show.  
And, when He saw thee passing, humbly cried,  
Lo there the Bridegroom of the Glorious Bride!  
And I, his Friend, with Joy  
His sacred Language hear;  
O may I so my Thoughts employ!  
When I before thy Face appear,  
May my exulting Heart the Robes of Gladness wear!   

I've heard of Holy Saints with Joys inflamed,  
Till the contending Soul  
Can not the Force control,  
Which their inward Joys proclaimed.  
I've heard of Ecstasies, and wondrous Lights,  
And Glorious Visions, and Mysterious Flights.  
I've heard the Creature loud  
Thy mighty Acts resound;  
May I, with inward Heat endowed,  
Spread thy Illustrious Glories round,  
My Heart with boundless Joys, and heavenly Raptures crowned   

Accept my Vows, Dear Lord, accept my Praise,  
Those holy Hymns, which I  
Would to Infinity,  
Vast as thy Immenseness, raise.  
Praise, Lord, I own Thee, and would give Thee Praise  
Through shortest Moment's, and through longest Days;  
Nor would I, Lord, alone,  
Thy Praises celebrate,  
I'd draw the blessed Angels down,  
I'd move the World's united State,  
Till they in Deathless Songs thy Gracious Acts relate.   

May the wide World, the many-languaged Tribe,  
With Fervour, Lord, proclaim  
Thy Ever-glorious Name,  
And to thy Renown subscribe!  
May We, who here with awful Reverence feed,  
From Faith to Faith, from Love to Love proceed,  
Till we with mutual Prayers  
Each others Health implore,  
And, freed from all inferior Cares,  
And, fed from thy Immortal Store,  
We live and ever love, but jar and faint no more.    

XVIII. The secret things belong unto the Lord our God.  Christ. 

SEE how the dreadful Pest overflows,  
How swift the dark malignant Angel flies,  
Enters the Heart, and thence infects the Eyes!  
See how the Fiend triumphant grows,  
And spreads the curious fatal Temper round,  
And makes the shallow Fool attempt the Deeps profound.   

Poor Man, abused by Reason's Glare,  
Will needs into his Maker's Secrets pry,  
And comprehend Mysterious Majesty,  
And all his boundless Powers declare.  
Reason a Star till Sin obscured the World,  
And from its lofty Sphere the radiant Substance hurled.   

It shines still, but with faded Light,  
Dim, and uncertain, and with Scurf overlayed;  
Yet now would those superior Orbs invade,  
It shunned, with native Lustre bright.  
Then Man his mighty Sovereign's Nature knew,  
But from the dark Research with awful Wisdom flew.   

They'd now with false Philosophy,  
False Reason, false Discourse, and false Design,  
Beyond the harmless Protoplast refine;  
And, with a saucy daring Eye,  
Anatomize and quite decipher Me,  
And like themselves would bond and mould the Delty.   

Can't they discern how Three are One!  
Can't they conceive how One subsists in Three?  
Can't they my Grace's smallest Movements see  
Through Holy Institutions drawn?  
Tho Scripture both in plainest Words descry,  
They'll unfelt Truth's abjure, and give their God the L●●.   

With rotting Limbs and tainted Souls,  
They scorn the modest Christians humble Flight;  
Banter's their Sense, and Blasphemy their Light:  
Yet while to Hell they sink in Sholes,  
Men must their worldly Wisdom's Reach admire,  
Who for a Carnal Crew a Carnal God desire.   

Blind with the Beams of sacred Light,  
As Batts they flutter in a Cloudless Air,  
Nor can my Majesty's Refulgence bear,  
But gasp and sicken at the Sight.  
They'd my vast Sphere to their short Span confine;  
Or like the swelling Toad with Oxlike Greatness shine.   

For shame let Brutes at last believe,  
God may be more than Man can Understand,  
Nor can they reach to his All-powerful Hand.  
The humble Soul may Truth retrieve;  
And He who bows his Head to Ancient Lore,  
May grow more wise at last, though but a Fool before.   

Blessed, ever blest be sober Minds,  
Who won't for needless Questions wildly range,  
Nor Revelation for their Reason change!  
What Heaps eternal Darkness finds,  
Who, with their humbler Sense dissatisfied,  
Too near the scorching Sun on waxed Wings would ride.   

I in a favoured Saint demand,  
Not such a wondrous Reach, or Sense profound,  
But active Faith with Holy Practice crowned.  
And can that Idiot understand  
The Mystic Movements of Unbounded Will,  
Who in a paltry Fly confounds his utmost Skill?   

To me, dear Soul, thy Sense submit!  
To mighty Faith let shattered Reason yield,  
Not, like a Rebel, proudly keep the Field!  
I'll give Thee apprehensive Wit,  
Led Thee with heavenly Wisdom's constant Light  
Thro all the dangerous Gloom of Intellectual Night.   

Their Faith, my Presence, some dispute,  
In Bread and Wine, with Vapours both amused  
By Hell's black King, in Reason's Garb, diffused.  
Be thou to all his Questions mute,  
Thy Faith to my unfailing Word resign;  
Hell's King will quickly fly before the Sword Divine.   

Yet when the Devil baits Thee so,  
It proves Thee, not by Heaven deserted quite;  
Hell scorns against his certain Slaves to fight.  
But where the Plants of Virtue grow,  
He'll try a thousand Arts the Roots to kill,  
And on the blooming Hopes his blasting Dews distil.   

O to my Altars then prefer  
A Faith unmoved, and suppliant Reverence!  
And though thou feelest thy own imperfect Sense,  
To me the mystic Part refer!  
Who in Himself confides, Himself deceives;  
But God the faithful Soul in no Amusement leaves.   

My Walk with honest Hearts is free,  
My Counsels I to humble Souls reveal,  
And needful Truths to prideless Babes unseal.  
Large Minds are more enlarged by Me;  
But justly I refuse my slighted Grace  
To proud assuming Fools, who curious Dreams embrace.   

When first in Man I fixed a Light,  
A Spotless Sun his little World surveyed,  
By no distempered Organs Fumes decayed;  
But Sin induced the gloomy Night.  
Now Reason oft an erring Guide appears,  
While o'er Life's stormy Seas Faith only safely steers.   

Let Reason then presume no more  
To fix Faith's Rule, or guide the wand'ring Mind,  
My Word I for that constant Rule designed.  
But Faith's conducting Hand implore;  
Where that thro' Hell's dark Ambuscadoes leads,  
Safe in his Master's steps the cautious Servant treads.   

Here in the Sacramental Feast  
Faith walks, attended by her darling Love;  
Both here in Beauty and in Strength improve,  
By Mystic Ways and Means increased.  
God, great, immense, can mighty Wonders do,  
Nor can the sharpest Eyes his cloudy Flights pursue.   

Had Man by Wit anatomised  
My Actions, or without a Veil had shown  
The dreadful Honours of my Glorious Throne,  
H'had soon my Glorious Throne despised.  
He's not unutterably Great nor Wise,  
Whose Strength and Wisdom plain and naked lies  
To shallow wordy Tongues, and unbelieving Eyes.   
FINIS.   

The Church's Hymn after the Eucharist.  

GLory be to God on high!  
God who reigns above the Sky!  
Great, Mysterious Majesty!  
May that Eternal Peace, which shone  
With radiant Beams about thy awful Throne,  
May she on Golden Wings descend,  
And Her blessed Influence extend  
Thro the rough Corners of the noisy World,  
Late into impious Jars, and dark Confusions hurled.  
Welcome! welcome sacred Love!  
Welcome from those Realms above!  
Goodness, Kindness, Mercy, Light,  
O dispel our gloomy Night!  
Till, inclined to Virtue, we  
Only Love and Live to Thee.  
We Bless Thee, We Praise Thee,  
In Anthems we raise Thee,  
In our daily Devotions;  
And, kneeling before Thee,  
We humbly adore thee,  
And, with Heavenly Motions,  
Thy Glories we view,  
And thy Service pursue,  
Till, on Extasy's Wings,  
We advance from the Springs,  
Till we flutter and dip on the fathomless Oceans.  
Glorious God, Celestial King!  
To Thee, O our Father Almighty! we sing.  
Jesus Lord, Eternal Son,  
Begot before the Birth of Time!  
God above the Gods sublime!  
With thy Glorious Father One!  
Jesus, Saviour! condescending  
For a sinful World below!  
Spotless Lamb! thy Blood expending  
To subdue our deadly Foe!  
Precious Sacrifice! appointed  
Heavenly Anger to allay!  
Prophet, King and Priest anointed!  
Thou who tak'st our Sins away!  
O the Ways of Truth display,  
Lord! and with a gentle Sway,  
Make our willing Hearts obey!  
Mercy, Lord, we Mercy crave,  
O our Souls in Mercy save!  
Thou who tak'st our Sins away,  
Bow, and hear thy Servants pray,  
Mercy, Lord, etc.  
Thou who tak'st our Sins away,  
Lord, thy gracious Arms display!  
Hear, O hear thy Servants pray!  
O Thou who sittest above the Sky,  
On God's right Hand exalted high,  
Clothed with glorious Majesty,  
Mercy, Lord, etc.  
Holiness belongs to Thee:  
Holy, Holy, Holy, We,  
O Eternal Trinity,  
Sing out with Angel Quires, and ever sing to Thee!  
Thou, Holy Jesus, art our Lord alone,  
And with the Spirit, and with the Father One,  
Of One Immortal Throne possessed,  
And with united Praise, united Glories blest.   
Amen.  
Haec cecini Interpres, Christo Deuce, & Auspice Christo,  
Saucius ah Domini Pectus amore mei.  
 Laudes, Pater, ore tuas graviore canamus,  
In resides Animos, Spiritus Alme, veni!  
Amen.    
FINIS.