When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd, And that open'd which was seal'd, When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
My soul, there is a country Far beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry
All skilful in the wars: There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles, And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious Friend, And-O my soul, awake!— Did in pure love descend,
To die here for thy sake. If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges; For none can thee secure But One who never changes---
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
HAPPY those early days, when I Shin'd in my Angel-infancy! Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy aught But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walk'd above A mile or two from my first Love, And looking back, at that short space Could see a glimpse of his bright face; When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense A several sin to every sense, But felt through all this fleshly dress Bright shoots of everlastingness.
O how I long to travel back,
And tread again that ancient track!
That I might once more reach that plain, Where first I left my glorious train; From whence th' enlighten'd spirit sees That shady City of Palm-trees! But ah! my soul with too much stay Is drunk, and staggers in the way! Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move; And when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return.
WHERE the remote Bermudas ride, In the ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that row'd along The listening winds received this song: "What should we do but sing His praise That led us through the watery maze Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?
Where He the huge sea monsters wracks, That lift the deep upon their backs;
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage. He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels everything.
And sends the fowls to us in care On daily visits through the air;
He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows: He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet; But apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice; With cedars chosen by His hand From Lebanon He stores the land; And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris on shore; He cast (of which we rather boast) The Gospel's pearl upon our coast; And in these rocks for us did frame A temple where to sound His name. Oh! let our voice His praise exalt Till it arrive at Heaven's vault,
Which thence (perhaps) rebounding, may Echo beyond the Mexique bay!" -Thus sung they in the English boat
A holy and a cheerful note;
And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept the time.
LORD, what unvalued pleasures crown'd
When Thou were so familiar found,
Those days were gold;
When Abram wish'd Thou couldst afford
When Lot but said, “Turn in, my Lord,” Thou wert his guest.
But, ah! this heart of mine doth pant,
And beat for Thee;
Yet Thou art strange, and wilt not grant Thyself to me.
What, shall Thy people be so dear
To Thee no more?
Or is not heaven to earth as near
The famish'd raven's hoarser cry
Finds out Thine ear;
My soul is famish'd, and I die
Unless Thou hear.
O Thou great Alpha! Kings of kings!
Or lend my soul seraphic wings,
LORD, it belongs not to my care, Whether I die or live;
To love and serve Thee is my share, And this Thy grace must give.
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