CERTAIN MEDITATIONS UPON JUSTIFICATION By Christ alone.  

THe News is good, Christ shed his Blood,  
Our peace is made in Heaven;  
And now He's gone, up to His Throne,  
All Power to him is given.   

Shall Sin or Hell, God's People quell,  
Or ever keep them under;  
Lo, Christ hath died, Sin Crucified,  
And Hell-Bars rend asunder.   

Our glory's great, we are Complete,  
In God's Free-Love we stand;  
We are on High, Exalted by  
Christ's own Victorious Hand.   

We once were Lost, to Hell did Post,  
But God in Mercy Found us;  
And now he hath, taught us Life's Path,  
And with his Glory Crowned us.   

The Blood of Christ, our Great Highpriest,  
Which once for us was Shed;  
Hath Purged the Blot, and Cleansed the Spot,  
Wherewith we were bespread.   

A Glorious Change, a Wonder Strange,  
That Sin should not Defile;  
And those appear, as Christ, most Dear,  
Who once did seem so Vile.   

All things Behind, are out of Mind,  
The Saints are made Divine;  
Fixed in the Love, of God above,  
In Glory they do shine.   

None are so Dear, nor yet so Near,  
With God they are made One;  
Who now doth see them such to be,  
As is his only Son.   

Christ is our Guide, we cannot Slide,  
Or ever Fall away;  
Our State is sure, and must endure,  
Though all things else decay.   

Then let's be Bold, our Heads uphold,  
The Time is drawing nigh;  
Where we shall Reign, and eak Remain,  
With Christ Eternally.   

Let all Base Fears, and Needless Cares,  
Out of our Mind remove;  
With speed let's fly, to God on High,  
And dwell with him above.   

Where we shall be from all Fears Free,  
Which here do us Annoy;  
And then Possessed of Perfect Rest,  
In our Dear Saviour's Joy.   

Which to Obtain, let us Remain,  
Doing our Father's Will;  
Waiting the day, when He shall say,  
Come, Children, Take your Fill.   

All is your own, to Feast upon,  
Your Father hath to give;  
Your Glass is Run, your Work is Done,  
In Pleasure you shall Live.   

No more Dejected, Faith's 
* That is in Heaven.  Neglected,  
To which now bid Farewell;  
And Welcome Love, that Grace above,  
Which only doth Excel.   

Now Faith doth Cease, Love shall Increase,  
In Fullness of Degree;  
By which we shall, appear to all,  
Perfect, like Christ to be.   
FINIS.   

London, Printed for Elizabeth Andrews, at the White-Lion, near Pie-corner.