My fpirit; for thou haft redeemed it.

Then bow'd his head, and yielded up the ghoft.

780

All nature felt the vaft tremendous fhock; The temple's facred vail was rent in twainThe fecrets of the holy place reveal'd, Shew'd him the great fulfiller of the law : A new and living way was then made known, And confecrated through the vail, his flefh. Earth quak'd, men trembled, mountains fhook, rocks Graves open'd; and the Roman Captain cry'd, 785 This juft man truly was the Son of God.

[rent,

The people fmote their breafts, and, fill'd with awe,
Returned home, amaz'd at what was done!

There fled the greateft foul that ever warm'd
A human breaft! the greateft pris'ner bound 790
Was then that ever flept in death's cold arms!
Before we quit this most affecting fight,
Let us furvey once more the folemn scene,
Of infinite importance to mankind.-

The Savior's dead!--What? that dear Jefus dead?

That lovely man, of form divinely fair !

Lament, my foul, the death of thy best friend;

796

That dy'd for thee, and all the fallen race.
Why did he die?--Because he lov'd us all.
Who kill'd the Prince of Life?-Sin, curfed fin! 800
O wretched me, that I fhould ever love
So vile a mura'rer! Lord, I hate myself.
How can I ever love fo base a fiend?
Vile name! the only thing JEHOVAH hates.
I wonder not, fince thou haft fain his Son,

805

That he should hate thee! May I hate thee too.
O that my head were waters, and mine eyes
Fountains of tears, whence ftreams inceffantly
Might flow, at the remembrance of my guilt.
God may forgive me; for his mercy's great;
He is a great forgiver, well I know;
But never can I once myself forgive!
Affift me, all ye pow'rs above, to weep!
To weep the Friend of guilty finners flain!
The death of JESUS is a glafs, wherein

Sin fhews its ugly face.

Come, view it here! How dreadful fin appears, in peftilence,

81

815*

820

In war and famine, earthquakes, tempefts, storms,
Whirlwinds, volcanoes, hurricanes, and plagues,
And thousand ills that defolate the globe!
And could we view the dismal dark abodes
Of Death and Hell, the mansions of the pit,
The portrait might be drawn more direful ftill?
But in the fuff'rings of the Son of God,

The darling of his heart, the heir of heav'n,

825

Tranfgreffion's evil nature more appears,
Than in the ruin of a thousand worlds.-
But, Oh how wond'rous was the Father's love
To mortal men, that he fo freely gave

His well beloved Son for them to die ?-

830

How shall I vent my grief? my Lord is dead ?
The white and ruddy Innocent is murder'd?
That Chief among ten thousand chosen ones.
That head more precious than the finest gold, [fore?
Was crown'd with thorns, was bruis'd and wounded

Those beauteous locks of black, or chefnut brown,
Behold them clotted, fill'd with dust and blood ?
Those dove like eyes, fo innocent and grave,
Behold them cold, and pale, and clos'd in death?
His cheeks, like spicy beds of sweetest flow'rs, 84.
Are wither'd, cover'd o'er with mortal pale ?
His lips, like lilies, dropping fweet perfumes,
(Those words more fweet than honey, milk, or wine)
Behold their purple color? fee, they're dead ?
Those hands more beauteous far than diamonds 845
Behold them bloody, wounded, pierc'd, and nail'd ?
His body, like the beauteous ivory,

850

Behold it mangled o'er with stripes and wounds?
His bleffed feet that travell'd for our good,
Behold them torn, by cruel irons bor'd?
His legs, like marble pillars fet in gold,
Behold them cold as marble, dy'd in blood?
His count'nance, lovely, beautiful, and fair,
Like Lebanon itself, majestic, grand,
And as its lofty cedars excellent ;

Behold it pale, disfigur'd, bruis'd, and marr'd ¦
That mouth so charming, fo divinely fweet,
That oft was open'd comfort to impart,
Is dumb? See how his bleffed jaws are fall'n ?
Behold, his head is bow'd upon his breaft:
But yet methinks I see a sweetness there,
Amidst the wounds and blood that mar his face.
Behold thofe locks fo placid and ferene,
Expreffive of the temper of his mind?
Ye daughters of Jerufalem, that view'd

855

850

865

Your dying Lord through ev'ry scene of grief,

Tell me, how did my dearest friend depart ?

870.

What were his dying words? How did he feem?
Pray, did his pain abate before he went!
Did he forgive his foes? Pray, did he get
A drop of water for his parched tongue ?
And did his foes relent, and drop a tear?
I ask: but O, your grief forbids your speech:
I fee you drown'd in woes; I'll afk no more.
My grief increases! Can I view this fight,
The Savior dead, and not diffolve in tears?
What heart of flint or fteel, but must relent
At this fad tragedy? this depth of woe !-
Let ev'ry leffer forrow be forgot;

This claims our whole attention: no excefs
Can be committed here. The death of Chrift

Is fuch a theme, that wakes both grief and love,
And gives occafion for the fofteft paffions

875

880:

To rife, and flow in never ceafing streams?
What can be worthy of a thought, compar'd 885
With this amazing love of him who shed

His blood, his life, to fave our guilty fouls ?
'Tis faid, when Cyrus was engag'd in war,.

Armenia's land he conquer'd, captive took
The Prince and Princefs; (kind and lovely pair)?
The Prince whofe heart was fet upon his Queen, 891
Propos'd to Cyrus, if he would reftore

The Princess to her liberty, and grant
To make provifion for her needs, as might
Befit her royal dignity, that he

895

Would, as a ranfom, freely give his life.-
Cyrus was charm'd, and being gen'rous, gave
To both their freedom, and reftor'd to them
Their firft poffeffions, and became their friend.
The conqu❜ror was applauded, fhouts refound, 900
O Cyrus! gen'rous! brave! magnanimous !
The Prince, transported, to his confort turn'd,
In raptures cry'd, What do you think of Cyrus ?
She anfwer'd, Truly, I did not observe him.
Her coldness much furpriz'd the Prince, who faid,
On what then, pray, was your attention fix'd? 906
Upon the man, the lovely man, (said she)
Who offer'd his dear life me to redeem.

If fhe was loft in thought, and swallow'd up
In admiration at her husband's love,

Who only offer'd to refign his life

918

For one who lov'd him with the purest flame:
What shall we think or fay of God's dear Son,
The Prince of Heav'n, Beauty's perfection bright:
Who did not only offer, but who gave
His precious life for us while enemies ?

Break, O my rocky heart, at thought of this!

Thy bleffed Savior gave his life away
For me before I knew or lov'd his name:

I was a stranger and an enemy.

But O, he lov'd me! I can ne'er repay

So vaft a debt as to my lord I owe,

915

920

He dies! weep mortals, weep! your friend is dead! Fain would I weep! but Oh, the fountain's dry! My forrow ftill forbids my tears! O help! G

925