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T'attend her Lord with joys unknown,
And bear the Victor to his throne.
Rejoice! ye shining worlds on high ;
Behold the Lord of Glory nigh:
Eternal doors, your leaves display,
To make the Lord of Glory way.
What mortal bard has skill or force
To paint these scenes, to tread this course,
Or furnith through th' ethereal road
A triumph for a rising God ?
Astonish'd at su vaft a fight
Through faming worlds and floods of light,
My muse her awful distance keeps,
Still following, but with trembling steps.
She bids her humble verse explain
The Hebrew harp's sublimer strain ;
l'oints to her Saviour still, and shows
What course the Sun of Glory goes.
Here he ascends behind a cloud
Of incense, there be fets in blood ;
She reads his labours and his names
In spicy smoke, and bleeding lambs.
Rich are the graces which the draws
From types, and shades and Jewish laws;
With thousand glories long foretold
To turn the future age to gold,
Grace is her theme, and joy, and love :
Descend, ye bleslings, from above,
And crown my fong! Eeternal God,
Forgive the Muse that dreads thy rod !

Silent, she hears thy vengeance roll,
That crushes mortals to the soul,
Nor dares assume the bolt, nor sheds
Th’immortal curses on their heads.
Yet since her God is still the same,
And David's Son is all her theme,
She begs some humble place to fing
In concert with Judea's King.


PSALM 139.

THE ALL-SEEING GOD.. LORD, thou haft search?d and seen me through ! Thine eye commands with piercing view My rising and my resting hours, My heart and flesh with all their pow'rs. My thoughts before they are my own, Are to my God distinctly known; He knows the words I mean to speak, Ere from my op'ning lips they break. Within thy circling pow'r I ftand, On ev'ry fide I find thy hand : Awake, asleep, at home, abroad, I am surrounded still with God. Amazing knowledge, vast and great! What large extent! what lofty height! My soul, with all the pow'rs I boast, Is in the boundless prospect loft. O may these thoughts possess my breast, Where'er I rove, where'er I reft!

Nor let my weaker passions dare
Consent to fin, for God is there.

PAUSE I. COULD I fo false, fo faithless prove To quit thy service and thy love, Where, Lord, could I thy presence shun, Or from thy dreadful glory run ?If up to heav'n I take my flight, *Tis there thou dwell'f enthron'd in light ; Or dive to hell, there vengeance reigns, And Satan groans beneath thy chains. If mounted on a morning.ray, I fly beyond the western sea, Thy swifter hand would first arrive, And there arrest thy fugitive. Or should I try to fhun thy fight, Beneath the spreading veil of night ; One glance of thine, one piercing ray, Would kindle darkness into day. The veil of night is no disguise, No screen from thy all-searching eyes ; Thy hand can seize thy foes as soon Through midnight Mades as blazing noon. Midnight and noon in this agree, Great God! they're both alike to thee : Not death can hide what God will spy, And hell lies naked to his eye. O may these thoughts possess my breast, Where'er I rove, where'er reft ;

Nor let my weaker paflions dare
Consent to fin, for God is there.



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'Twas from thy hand, my God, I came,
A work of such a curious frame;
In me thy fearful wonders thine,
* And each proclaims thy skill divine.
Thy eyes did all my limhs survey,
Which yet in dark confufion lay ;
Thou faw's the daily growth they took,
Form’d by the model of thy book.
By thee my growing parts were nam'd ;
And what thy sov'reign counsels fram’d,
(The breathing lungs, the beating heart)
Was copy'd with unerring art.
At last, to shew


God stainp'd his image on my frame;
And in some unknown moment join'd
The finish'd members to the mind.
There the

seeds of thought began,
And all the passions of the man !
Great God our infant nature pays
Immortal tribute to thy praise.
Lord, since in my advancing age,
I've acted on life's busy stage:
Thy thoughts of love to me surmount
The pow'r of numbers to recount.


I could survey the ocean o'er,
And count each fand that makes the shoro,
Before my swiftest thoughts could trace
The num'rous wonders of thy grace !
These on my heart are still impress’d,
With these I give my eyes to reft ;
And at my waking hour I find
God and his love possess my mind.



My God, with inward grief I feel
When impious men tranfgress thy will ;
I mourn to hear their lips profane,
Take thy tremendous name in vain.
Does not my soul detest and hate
The sons of malice and deceit?
Those that oppose thy laws and thee,
I count them enemies to me.

Lord, search my soul, try ev'ry thought,
Though my own heart accuse me not
Of walking in a false disguise,
I beg the trial of thine eyes.
Doth secret mischief lurk within ?
Do I indulge fome unknown sin ?
O turn my feet whene'er [ ftray,
And lead me in thy perfect way.

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