WITH kind compaffion hear my cry,
O, Jefu, Lord of Life, on high!
As when the fummer's feafons beat,
With fcorching flame and parching heat:
The trees are burnt, the flowers fade,
And thirsty gaps in earth are made.
My thoughts of comfort languish fo,
And fo my foul is broke by woe.
Then on thy fervant's drooping head
Thy dews of bleffing fweetly fhed;
Let thofe a quick refreshment give,
And raife my mind, and bid me live.
My fears of danger, while I breathe,
My dread of endless hell beneath :'
My fenfe of forrow for my fin,
To fpringing comfort, change within;
Change all my fad complaints for ease,
To chearful notes of endless praise;
Nor let a tear mine eyes employ,
But fuch as owe their birth to joy:
Joy tranfporting, sweet, and ftrong,
Fit to fill and raise my fong;
Joy that fhall refounded be,
While days and nights fucceed for me:
Be not as a Judge severe,
For fo thy prefence who may bear ?
On all my words and actions look,
(I know they're written in thy book ;).
But then regard my mournful cry,
And look with Mercy's gracious eye;
What needs my blood, fince thine will do,,
pay the debt to Juftice due ?
O, tender Mercy's art divine!
Thy forrow proves the cure of mine!
Thy dropping wounds, thy woeful fmart,..
Allay the bleedings of my heart:
Thy death, in death's extreme of pain,
Reftores my foul to life again.
Guide me then, for here I burn,
To make my Saviour some return.
I'll rife (if that will please him, still,
And fure I 've heard him own it will);
I'll trace his steps, and bear my crofs,
Defpifing every grief and lofs;
Since he, defpifing pain and shame,
Firft took up his, and did the fame.
OW blefs'd the man, how fully fo,
As far as man is blefs'd below,
Who, taking up his crofs, effays
To follow Jesus all his days;
With refolution to obey,
And fteps enlarging in his way.
The Father of the faints above
Adopts him with a father's love,
And makes his bofom throughly fhine
With wondrous ftores of grace divine ;
Sweet grace divine, the pledge of joy,
That will his foul above employ;
Full joy, that, when his time is done,›
Becomes his portion as a fon.
Ah me! the fweet infus'd defires,
The fervid wishes, holy fires,
Which thus a melted heart refine,
Such are his, and fuch be mine.
From hence defpifing all befides
That earth reveals, or ocean hides;
All that men in either prize,
On God alone he fets his eyes.
From hence his hope is on the wings,
His health renews, his fafety fprings,
His glory blazes up below,
And all the ftreams of comfort flow.
He calls his Saviour King above,
Lord of mercy, Lord of love;
And finds a kingly care defend,
And
mercy fmile, and love defcend,
To chear, to guide him in the ways
Of this vain world's deceitful maze :
And though the wicked earth display,
Its terrors in their fierce array;
Or gape fo wide that horror fhows
Its hell replete with enless woes;
Such fuccour keeps him clear of ill,
Still firm to good, and dauntless still.
So, fix'd by Providence's hands,
A rock amidst an ocean ftands;
So bears without a trembling dread,
The tempeft beating round its head;
And with its fide repels the wave,
Whose hollow feems a coming grave:
The skies, the deeps, are heard to roar
The rock ftands fettled as before.
I, all with whom he has to do,
Admire the life which bleffes you,
That feeds a foe, that aids a friend,.
Without a bye defigning end;
Its knowing real intereft lies
On the bright fide of yonder skies,
Where, having made a title fair,
It mounts, and leaves the world to care-
While he that feeks for pleafing days,
In earthly joys and evil
Is but the fool of toil or fame,
(Though happy be the spacious name)
And made by wealth, which makes him great,
A more confpicuous wretch of state.
OW long, ye miferable blind,
Shall idle dreams engage your mind ;‹
How long the paffions make their flight
At empty fhadows of delight.
No more in paths of error stray,
The Lord thy Jefus is the way,
The fpring of happiness, and where
Should men feek happiness but there ?
Then run to meet him at your need,
Run with boldnefs, run with speed,
For he forfook his own abode
To meet thee more than half the road.
He laid afide his radiant crown,
And love for mankind brought him down
To thirst and hunger, pain and woe,
To wounds, to death itself below;
And he, that fuffer'd these alone
For all the world, defpifes none.
To bid the foul, that 's fick, be clean,
To bring the loft to life again;
To comfort thofe that grieve for ill,
Is his peculiar goodness still.
And, as the thoughts of parents run
Upon a dear and only fon,
So kind a love his mercies fhow,
So kind and more extremely fo.
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