Our candlestick below:
A burning and a shining light,
He liv'd a while to blefs our fight,
But thines in glory now.
A Prophet hallow'd from the womb,
To feek and bring the wand'rers home,
Anointed, fet apart :
Enabled by the fearching word,
To fet the meffage of the Lord,
Home to the finner's heart.
4 His ev'ry pow'r devoted was
To further his Redeemer's cause;
Nor did his talents hide:
A beacon fet upon an hill,
He liv'd to do his Master's will,
He did his will, and dy'd.
5 A faithful meffenger he stood,
The trumpet and the mouth of God,
To make his Counfel known:
His life one conftant voice hath been,
Inviting finners to come in,
And afk th' eternal crown.
6 May I like him my hours employ,
Finish, like him, my courfe with joy,
And fleep to wake in blifs!
Like him be number'd with the bleft!
Jefus regard my one requeft,
Make my last end like his.
EPITAPH VII. On the Death of Mr. R. V. Heb. vi. 12. Be not flothful, but Followers of them who, through Faith and Patience, inherit the Promifes. 1 THE crown of righteoufnefs is giv'n,
Our friend is landed fafe in heav'n :
His warfare now accomplish'd is,
And face to face his Lord he fees.
2 Forever now redeem'd from pain,
He did not run nor ftrive in vain:
With triumph from his clay releas'd,
Tranflated to his place of reft.
Ear hath not heard, nor eye beheld,
What to the faints is there reveal'd;
Blissful experience only knows,
The glories of the upper houfe.
4 Far, far from all diftrefs remov'd,
They know the God whom here they lov'd:
Temptation, fick nefs, grief and care,
Shall never gain admiffion there.
5 Then let us feek, in ftedfast faith,
A city that foundations hath:
Our bright, immoveable abode,
Whofe glorious architect is God.
6 There we shall all our pain forget,
And only fongs of praife repeat;
In knowledge, happiness and love,
To all eternity improve.
7 There we fhall as the angels fhine,
The martyr's noble army join;
And fee the Lamb (thrice blissful fight!)
Encompass'd with his faints in light.
8 When hall we to our joy be giv'n;
O when exchange this earth for heav'n?
And caft our crowns before the throne,
And worship him that fits thereon?
9 When fhall we hear th' inviting word,
And be for ever with the Lord?
A day with Chrift in glory there,
Is better than a thoufand here.
10 Holy and true, call in thine own,
Accomplish, Lord, their number foon:
Us to thy fecond coming feal,
And with thyfelf for ever fill!
Confifling of feveral Pieces, not properly reducible to any of the preceding Heads.
LOOK back, my foul, and take a view,
Of Chrift expiring on the tree :
Behold thy Saviour breathe his laft,
To buy eternal life for thee!
Thy Jefus faints-'Tis finifh'd, cries,
Reclines his facred head, and dies.
2 Shadows and types are done away,
The temple's veil is rent in twain:
Vanish, ye emblematic rites,
The real victim now is flain;
Is flain for finners to atone,
The priest and facrifice in one.
3 Methinks I fee the purpled earth,
Startle to feel its Maker's blood;
;
The fun retires, and from their graves,
Saints rife to hail their dying Lord:
Each fympathifing rock appears
More tender than his murderers.
4 And did the Saviour thus exchange
His throne of glory for a cross?
Left he for this th' ethereal court,
To die a painful death for us?
For us he bled at ev'ry vein,
And, flain by man, for man was flain.
5 Obdurate heart, fhall mountains heave,
And nature mourn her beft belov'd,
Shall the rocks tremble at his voice,
And I alone abide unmov'd!
Shall I not weep his death to fee,.
Who wept in tears of blood for me?
6 O Prince of martyrs, touch my heart,
There at thy mighty ftandard reft;
Burn purifying incenfe there,
Fit it for fo divine a guest: There let thy pow'rful cross refide, 'Till ev'ry luft is crucified.
II. To a Friend who asked what God is.
1 IS there a man whofe daring hand,
Can number ev'ry grain of fand?
Can count the drops that fill the fea,
Or tell how many ftars there be?
2 Who, then, fhall ftrive to comprehend
Infinity that knows no end?
Who fhall fet bounds to boundless pow'r,
Restrain omnipotence, or low'r
Eternity to one poor hour?
3 Believe me, friend, thou can't no more
The vaft defigns of God explore,
Than thy fhort arm can touch the fkies,
Or fathom ocean's deep abyfs.
4 Who fhall disclose his Maker's plan,
Or dare his fecret will to fcan?
Shall feeble, guilty, finite man?
5 None but perfection, fuch as his,
Can know th' Almighty as he is;
His glory never can be brought
Adapted to a mortal's thought.
6 Confider what thou art, and fear
This unfeen witnefs always near.
Dive not into his deep decree:
The object's too elate for thee,
Thou must not afk, nor wish to fee,
VOL. VI. (33)
Caft each prefumptuous doubt away;
Remember thou'rt, at beft, but clay,
Whose only province is t' obey.
III. ISAIAH xlix. 16. Behold, I have graven thee on the Palms of my Hands.
1 REDEEM'D offender, hail the day
That fees thy fin forgiv'n:
Jefus hath borne thy guilt away
And pleads for thee in heav'n.
2 Imprinted on his hands thou art
In characters of blood;
The stream that iffu'd from his heart
Shall waft thee fafe to God.
3 For me vouchfaf'd th' unfpotted Lamb,
His Father's wrath to bear:
I fee his feet, and read my name
Engraven deeply there.
4 Forth from the Lord his gufhing blood
In purple currents ran:
And ev'ry wound proclaim'd aloud
His wond'rous love to man.
5 My faith looks back and fees him bleed;
A thorny crown he wears,
To fet upon the finner's head
A thining crown of stars.
6 Saviour, I fain would take the wreath,
To thee, my center, move,
In all the lowliness of faith,
In all the heights of love.
7 Thy righteoufnefs my robe fhall be, Thy bitter death my hope :
For my offence upon the tree
My Lord was lifted up.
8 For me the Saviour's blood avails,
Almighty to atone :
'The hands he gave to piercing nails
Shall lead me to his throne.
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