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3. Our souls are rising on the wing
To venture in his place,
For when grim Death has lost his sting
He has an angel's face.

4. Jesus ! then purge my crimes away;
'Tis guilt creates my fears,
'Tis guilt gives death its fierce array,
And all the arms it bears.

s. Oh! if my threat'ning sins were gone,
And death had lost his sting,
I could invite the angel on
And chide his lazy wing.

6. Away these interposing days,
And let the lovers meet;
The angel has a cold embrace,
But kind, and soft, and sweet.

7. I'd leap at once my seventy years,
I'd rush into his arms,
And lose my breath and all my cares
Amidst those heav'nly charms.

8. Joyful I'd lay this body down,
And leave the lifeless clay
Without a figh, without a groan,
And stretch and foar away.

Sincere praise.
Almighty Maker, God!
How wondrous is thy name!
Thy glories how diffus'd abroad
Thro' the creation's frame!





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2. Nature in ev'ry dress
Her humble homage pays,
And finds a thousand ways t' espress
Thine undifsembled praise.

3. In native white and red
The rose and lily fiand,
And free from pride their beauties spread
To shew thy skilful hand.

4. The lark mounts up the sky
With unambitious song,
And bears her Maker's praise on high
Upon her artless tongue.

5. My soul would rise and sing
To her Creator too;
Fain would my tongue adore my King

pay the worship due :
6. But pride, that busy sin,
Spoils all that I perform ;
Curs'd pride! that creeps fecurely in
And swells a haughty worm.

7. Thy glories I abate,
Or praise thee with design;
Some of the favours 1 forget,
Or think the merit mine.

8. The very songs I frame
Are faithless to thy cause,
And steal the honours of thy name
To build their own applause.





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9. Create my soul anew,
Else all my worship’s vain :
This wretched heart will ne'er be true
Until 't is form'd again.

10. Descend celestial fire,
And seize me from above,
Melt me in flames of pure desire,
A sacrifice to love.

40 11. Let joy and worship spend The remnant of my days, And to my God my soul ascend in sweet perfumes of praise.

True learning
Partly imitated from a French Sonnet of Mr. Poiret.

Happy the feet that shining Truth has led
With her own hand to tread the path she please,
To see her native lustre spread
Without a vail without a shade,
All beauty and all light, as in herself she is.

Our senses cheat us with the presing crowds
Of painted shapes they thrust upon the mind:
The truth they shew lies wrapt in sev’nfold shrouds;
Our fenfes cast a thousand clouds

9 On unenlighten'd fouls, and leave them doubly


blind. I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise, And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought:

What empty triflings and what subtile ways
To fence and guard by rule and rote!

14 Our God will never charge us that we knew them


[not. Touch, heav'nly Word, O touch these curious souls; Since I have heard but one foft hint from thee, From all the vain opinions of the schools (That pageantry of knowing fools) I feel my pow'rs releas’d, and stand divinely free. 20

V. 'Twas this almighty Word that all things made; He grasps whole nature in his fingle hand; All the eternal truths in him are laid, The ground of all things and their head, The circle where they move and centre where they stand.

25 VI. Without his aid I have no sure defence From troops of errours that befiege me round: But he that rests his reason and his sense Fast here, and never wanders hence, Unmoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground. $e

VII. Infinite Truth, the life of my defires, Come from the sky and join thyself to me; I'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires, But never tir'd of telling thee 'Tis thy fair face alone my fpirit burns to see. 35


VIII. Speak to my soul alone; no other hand Shall mark my path out with delusive art: All Nature filent in his presence stand, Creatures be dumb at his command, And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart. 40

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire,
Away from sense and ev'ry outward show;
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes aspire,
My knowledge now on wheels of fire
May mount and spread above, surveying all below.45

The Lord grows lavish of his heav'nly light,

whole floods on such a mind as this;
Fled from the eyes she gains a piercing sight,
She dives into the Infinite,
And seesunutterablethings in that unknown abyss.se

And pours

True cuision.

1. Pronounce him bless'd, my Muse, whom Wisdom In her own path to her own heav'nly seat; [guides Thro' all the storms his soul securely glides, Nor can the tempests nor the tides That rise and roar around supplant his steady feet. 5

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