O turn thy lovely glories from me, The joys are too intense, the glories overcome me. Dear Lord, forgive my rash complaint, And love me still Against my froward will; Unveil thy beauties, though I faint. My heart shall all be love, my Jesus all delight. ASCENDING TO HIM IN HEAVEN. 'Tis pure delight, without alloy, My passions hold a pleasing reign, Love, the divinest of the train, This is the grace must live and sing, Let life immortal seize my clay: Let love refine my blood: Swift I ascend the heavenly place, Sink down, ye separating hills, "Tis love that drives my chariot-wheels, And death must yield to love. THE DEATH OF MOSES. SWEET was the journey to the sky The wondrous prophet tried: "Climb up the mount," says God, " and die;" The prophet clim'd and died. Softly his fainting head he lay In God's own arms he left the breath His was the noblest road to death, And his the sweetest grave. HOPE IN DARKNESS. YET, gracious God, Yet will I seek thy smiling face: What though a short eclipse his beauties shroud "Tis but a morning vapour, or a summer cloud: I dwell for ever on his heart, Dear Sov'reign, hear thy servant pray, Or shall I breathe in vain, and pant my hours away; Aloft their sooty banners rear Round my poor captive soul, and dare Pronounce me prisoner of hell: But Thou, my Sun, and Thou, my Shield, Wilt save me in the bloody field, Break, glorious Brightness, shoot one glimmering ray, One glance of thine creates a day, And drives the troops of hell away. Happy the times-but ah! those times are gone Round the tall arches of the temple shone, Sin, with all its ghastly train, Fled to the deeps of death again. And smiling triumph sat on every face; Were all devotion, all delight, And loud Hosannas sounded the Redeemer's praise, Here I could say, (And point the place whereon 1 stood) Here I enjoy'd a visit half the day, From my descending God: I was regal'd with heavenly fare, The Conqueror spread The banner of his love. Then why my heart sunk down so low? And hopeless nature mourn? Review, my soul, those pleasing days, And wait a kind return. A father's love may raise a frown But love will ne'er destroy; The hour of darkness is but short, The morning brings the joy. COME, LORD JESUS. WHEN shall thy glorious face be seen? When shall our eyes behold our God? What lengths of distance lie between, And hills of guilt, a heavy load! Our months are ages of delay, And slowly every minute wears: Ye heavenly gates, loose all your chains; Hark, how thy saints unite their cries, And pray and wait the general doom: Come Thou, the Soul of all our joys, Thou, the Desire of nations, come. Put thy bright robes of triumph on, Our spirits shake their eager wings, Now let our cheerful eyes survey |