The contented Subjects; Or, the Citizens Joy  
No Power without God's Providence,  
shall ever last or stand:  
Then God preserve our Gracious Prince,  
and sovereign of this Land.  
The Tune is, Now, now the Fight's done.  

NOw, now the time's come, Noble Prichard is choose,  
In spite of all People that would him oppose:  
The King and His Subjects, I hope will agree,  
That troubles and dangers, forgotten may be;  
Then now London Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper our King.   

The difference now, I hope is composed,  
And the confidence that in our Mayor's reposed;  
I do hope will be answered in every degree,  
If so, then no Subjects more happy than we:  
Then brave London Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

Our Flourishing Monarch, whose famed doth abound,  
The Defender of Faith, I do hope will be found:  
Let the Turk and the Pope, both of him stand in fear,  
Whose Protestant Principles, now are so clear;  
That the brave London Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

Do but mind how the Heavens upon us do smile,  
And the Pope's expectations do clearly beguile:  
To oblige Sinful Men, from their fault to refrain,  
That in Heaven above, they with Saints may remain;  
Then Protestant Subjects be merry and Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

The Divisions of late, that did strangely increase,  
I hope will conclude in a Flourishing Peace;  
And England be freed from the dangers and fears,  
Which seemed for to threaten her several years:  
Then may Loyal Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

And who can foretell what God's Love will bestow  
On us Sinful Men, who Inhabit below?  
Since daily we find that the Powers above,  
Sends us daily symptoms of Mercy and Love:  
But let brave Loyal Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

Thrice happy are Subjects, Yea, Blessed are they  
Who Honour their Prince, and God's Laws do obey:  
Upon that blessed Land, will Providence flo●  
'twere happy for England, if we could do so;  
Yet London brave Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper our King.   

What Prince ever reigned in this iceland before,  
More filled with Love, that hath Mercy in store?  
That freely forgives many who do offend,  
In hopes to find Mercy himself, in the end:  
Then brave London Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper our King.   

Then lift up your Souls both in Heart and in Voice,  
Bless Heaven so kind, for so happy a Choice;  
As lately was made, to the Peoples content,  
Of which I do hope they will never repent:  
While the brave London Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

You brave English Subjects, that Honour your Prince,  
Take pattern by me, and let reason Convince:  
That our King doth endeavour this Land to Advance,  
And not keep you like the Poor Serviles in France;  
Then let London Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   

Of Whigs and of Torys, we hear shall no more,  
These Names of distinctions did trouble some sore:  
But since God and the King, to England are friends,  
Know, where strife amongst Subjects so strangely depends,  
The Citizens then very faintly will Sing,  
But God Bless the Mayor, and Prosper the King.   

Do but mind with what joy this Mayor was received,  
'twould make you admire, 'tis by some not believed:  
But 'tis certainly sure, give but Credit to me,  
That goes not by Here-say; but this I did see:  
Then London brave Citizens merrily Sing,  
God Bless Noble Prichard, and Prosper the King.   
FINIS.   

Printed for P. Brooksby, in West-smithfield.