2 Deny thyfelf, and take thy Cross, Is the Redeemer's great Command! Nature must count her Gold but Drofs, If she would gain this heav'nly Land. 3 The fearful Soul that tires and faints, And walks the Ways of God no more, Is but efteem'd almoft a Saint,
And makes his own Deftruction fure. 4 Lord, let not all my Hopes be vain, Create my Heart entirely new; Which Hypocrites could ne'er attain, Which false Apoftates never knew.
OSANNA to King David's Son, Who reigns on a fuperior Throne; We bless the Prince of heav'nly Birth, Who brings Salvation down to Earth. 2 Let ev'ry Nation, ev'ry Age, In this delightful Work engage; Old Men and Babes in Sion fing The growing Glories of her King.
WHAT is Glory but the Blaze of Fame, The People's Praise,if always Praise
And what the People but a Herd confus'd,
A miscellaneous Rabble, who extol Things vulgar, and, well weigh'd, scarce worth the Praise ?
They praise,andtheyadmire theyknownot what, And know not whom,but as one leads the other: And what Delight to be by fuch extoll'd, To live upon their Tongues and be their Talk, Of whom to be difprais'd were no small Praise? His Lot who dares be fingularly good.
Th' Intelligent among them and the Wife Are few, and Glory fcarce of few is rais'd. This is true Glory and Renown, when God Looking on th' Earth, with Approbation marks ThejuftMan,and divulges him through Heaven To all his Angels, who with true Applause Recount his Praises.
NO Faith tow'rds God can e'er subsist with
Tow'rds Man, nor Charity with Want of Faith; From the fame Root hath each of them its Growth;
You have not either, if you have not both.
CCCXXXIII.
E fimple Souls, that stray Far from the Path of Peace,
That unfrequented Way To Life and Happiness;
How long will ye your Folly love, And throng the downward Road, And hate the Wisdom from above, And mock the Sons of God?
Madness and Mifery
Ye count our Life beneath, And Nothing great can fee, Or glorious in our Death: As born to fuffer and to grieve, Beneath your Feet we lie, And utterly condemn'd we live, And unlamented die.
Poor penfive Sojourners
O'erwhelm'd with Grief and Woes, Perplex'd with needlefs Fears,
And Pleasure's mortal Foes; More irksome than a gaping Tomb, Our Sight ye cannot bear, Wrapt in the melancholy Gloom Of fanciful Despair.
So wretched and obfcure, The Men whom ye despise, So foolish, weak, and poor, Above your Scorn we rise; Our Confcience in the Holy Ghost Can witness better Things;
For he whofe Blood is all our boast, Hath made us Priests and Kings.
Riches unfearchable
In Jefu's Love we know,
And Pleafures, from the Well
Of Life, our Souls o'erflow; From him the Spirit we receive Of Wisdom, Grace, and Pow'r, And always forrowful we live, Rejoicing evermore.
Angels our Servants are, And keep in all our Ways,
And in their Hands they bear The facred Sons of Grace: Our Guardians to that heav'nly Blifs, They all our Steps attend; And God himfelf our Father is,
And Jefus is our Friend.
With him we walk in White,
We in his Image fhine,
Our Robes are Robes of Light, Our Righteoufnefs divine; On all the grov'ling Things of Earth With Pity we look down, And claim, in Virtue of our Birth, A never fading Crown.
WHEN I was yet a child, no childish play To me was pleafing; all my mind was fet Serious to learn and know, and thence to do What might be public good; myself I thought Born to that end, born to promote all truth, All righteous things: therefore above my years The law of God I read, and found it fweet
Made it my whole delight, and in it grew To fuch perfection, that ere my age. Had measur'd twice fix years, at our great feast I went into the temple, there to hear The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their
And was admir'd by all: yet this not all To which my spirit afpir'd;victorious deeds Flam'd in my heart, heroic acts, one while To rescue Ifrael from the Roman yoke, Then to fubdue and quell o'er all the earth Brute violence and proud tyrannic pow'r Till truth were freed, and equity restor❜d: Yet held it more humane, more heav'nly first By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make perfuafion do the work of fear; At least to try, and teach the erring foul Not wilfully mifdoing, but unware Mifled; the ftubborn only to fubdue.
SON of God, thy Bleffing grant, Still fupply my ev'ry Want;
Tree of Life, thine Influence shed, With thy Grace my Spirit feed. 2 Tend'rest Branch, alas! am I, Wither without thee and die, Weak as helpless Infancy; O confirm my Soul in thee.
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