She, like a star, seem'd little light to cast, Yet had a splendor and an orbit vast;
Meek in command, of conversation sweet, Free from harsh words, disdain, pride, peevish heat; In well-chose friendships constant and sincere, And pitiful when forced to be severe;
She gratefully a kindness overpaid,
And but the virtuous none her favourites made.
By various names we thy perfections call, But pure, unfathom'd love, exhausts them all; By love all things were made, and are sustain’d, Love all things, to allure man's love ordain'd; Love vengeance from lapsed human race suspends, Love our salvation, when provoked, intends; Love, Lord, thy infinite perfections join'd, Into all forms of love to save mankind; Enlightening wisdom, and supporting might, Grace to forgive, compassion to invite; Thy bounty in rewards which thought exceed, Munificence to promise all we need; Truth to perform, paternal, tender care, A patient mildness long to wait, and spare; A justice, to chastise love's hatefull foes, With jealousy, cursed rivals to oppose; Benignity, to hear a sinner's cry, Unbounded all-sufficience, to supply;
They all are love, love only is their aim,
My verse shall love, and hymn Thee by that name.
I HAD one only thing to do,
Yet would a thousand things pursue; God only could exhaust my mind, In God alone I rest could find;
Yet o'er the world wild flights I took, While I my self and God forsook.
My thought things perishable fill'd, My soul, what was my poison will'd; I fondly loved what I should hate, Desired what horror should create: I lying vanities believed,
And trusted most, where most deceived.
As soon might the autumnal sun, To Libra, when its course was run, Revolve, till it to Aries reel'd,
And with new spring bedeck'd the field, As I from sin my heart estrange, And my entire propension change.
God shining on me from his throne, Benignly brake this heart of stone; All love to God, whose gracious stroke Enflamed my heart, as well as broke: Conscience, whom I with opiates ply'd, Now wake, and be my watchful guide.
On Thee, my God, my thought shall muse, Thee sovereignly my will shall chuse My love shall to thy love aspire,
The sole desirable desire;
Thou wilt have all my heart or none, The world I for thy sake disown.
My soul shall long for blissful sight, Shall in the source of joy delight; In hymns I day by day will sing The favours of my heavenly King; My powers from Thee, my God, descend, And shall to thy sole glory tend.
Lord, I, self-offer'd, am not mine, Keep safe this heart entirely thine; Let not hell-powers in triumph say, That what was thine they made their prey;
Maim'd is the offering, yet sincere, Heaven will its imperfections clear.
I OFT recall the moments dear, Enjoy'd in penitential tear,
A beam of pardon through me shined, Diffusing sweetness o'er my mind; Upon my knees, while that I felt, I could eternally have dwelt.
My God, to what endearing ways Dost Thou descend my love to raise, The wings of the all-gracious Dove Shed soft, sweet, penitential love; Thought humble and devout traject, And make me on myself reflect.
Lord, when the blessings of both lives, To recollect my spirit strives; Their number and their greatness swell, To heights which lowly verse excel; Yet viewing my vile self, I more Thy goodness undeserved adore.
Thy self, O amiable Lord!
Thou hast proposed for our reward;
And thy benignities so clear, So beatifical appear,
That 'tis impossible to love,
And not desire thy sight above.
Lord, while in view thy love I keep, The fruits of love I daily reap; Heart-easing tears whene'er I slide, Some loveliness yet undescry'd; Or zeal all frozen hearts to fire,
Till they to love Thee shall conspire:
To prayer some gracious answers sent, Some meditations more intent;
Or sudden fervency devout,
Or heavenly guidance when in doubt; Or fresh aversions to false joy,
Or some new hymns which love employ.
[From "Youth's Introduction to Divine Harmony."]
How sweet the angel-trumpets sound, With heaven's kind invitation,
That call, the altar to surround, In paschal celebration :
Our Father has us wellcome bid, Upon the Holy Lamb to feed, With blest solemnization.
O sacred viands, here prepared For our divine repasting! O sacred gate, for us unbarr'd To pleasures everlasting! Jesus is manna, bread divine; Jesus is oyl, is milk and wine, And honey to our tasting.
Who would not, Lord, remember Thee, On all such blest occasions?
O can thy cross e'er buried be
In worldly occupations?
O tree so dry, such fruit to bring As ne'er in paradise did spring, For healing of the nations.
Into what mysteries must we dive,
In this divine refection? We live to die, we die to live,
In blissful resurrection.
Dear Lord, who would not die with Thee, In death the new-birth's gate to see, And inlet to perfection?
Good Lord, extend thy charity To thy poor flock disjointed; Restore thy church's unity,
As when 'twas first appointed. O let us live in love with Thee, And in fraternal amity, With oyl of grace anointed.
EACH day on wings vexation brings, And certain cares abounding; Yet shall not this disturb our bliss, With restless thoughts confounding. God's promise true is ever new
To hearts in him confiding; His heavenly grace, in every case, Advice and aid providing.
Ah! God let me burn ardently
In thy sweet love for ever; And succour send, when the' evil fiend Me from my rest would sever. I'd own thy truth with heart and mouth, Before thy sceptre falling;
Thy Spirit in me, of liberty, Thee Abba, Father, calling.
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