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Thought.grace deferv'd yet-higher praise,
Hold, (said a fourth,) I here protest
My praises must outvie the best; « For l'ın of all the human race “ The highest miracle of grace.” " Stop, (Taid a fifth,) these notes forbear, “Lo! I'm the greatest wonder here ;
For I of all the race that fell, 66 Deserv'd the lowest place in hell." A foul that higher yet aspir'd, With equal love to Jesus fir’d, 66 'Tis mine to fing the highest notes
To love, that wath'd the foulest blots.” “ Ho! (cry'd a mate,) 'tis mine I'll prove, " Who linn'd in spite of light and love, “ To sound his praise with loudest bell, 66 That fav'd me from the lowest hell." “ Come, come, (faid one,) I'll hold the plea,
That highest praise is due by me; “ For mine, of all the fav'd by grace, “ Was the most dreadful, desp'rate case."
Another rising at his fide, As fond of praise, and free of pride, Cry'd, Pray give place, for 1 defy, " That you should owe more praise than I : “ I'll yield to none in this debate; * I'm run so deep in grace's debt, " That fure I am, I boldly can
Compare with all the heav'nly clan," Quick O'er their heads a trump awoke, • Your songs my very heart have spoke ; “ But ev'ry note you here propale,
Belongs to me beyond you all.' The lift'ning millions round about With sweet resentment loudly shout; “ What voice is this, comparing notes, - That to their song chiet place allots ? “ We can't allow of such a sound, • That you alone have highest ground s " To fing the royalties of grace ; “ We clain the same adoring place. What! will no rival-finger yield He has a match upon the field ? " Come, then, and let us all agree “ To praise upon the highest key.' Then jointly all the harpers round In mind unite with soleinn found, And strokes upon the highest string, Made all the heav'niy arches ring : Ring loud witb hallelujah's high, To him that sent his Son to die; And to the worthy Lamb of God, 'I hat lov'd and wash'dihem in bis blood. Free.grace was fov'reign empress crown'd In. pomp, with joyful thouts around:
Aflisting angels clappd their wings,
To suit my vast defires;
My boundless thought afpires.
This music dull, where none But heavy notes have any grace,
And mirth accents the moan. Where trouble tread upon reliefs,
New woes with older blend ; Where rolling storms and circling griefs
Run round without an end :
Where waters wrestling with the ftones,
Do fight themselves to foam,
Discharge their pregnant womb :
That dash them from the sky:
In ruin proftrate lie :
The cause of death and hell,
Does most befriended dwell,
The forfeiture-of day,
But only God could pay.
Subscribed with despair :
Though life may paint it fair.
In such a doleful place :
My father hides his face.
The fawning poet's ftile,
I languith in exile.
Of that triumphant throng,
Free love distils itself,
And hea of wordly pelf.
Thronespeptres, crowns, and kings, Are nothinelle but little toys,
And desçable things.
: Heav'n is nomade of yellow duft,
Nor bliss (glitt'ring clay.
In pleasues all divine.
But I fo fubftance am;
And vion of the Lamb:
In hisaugust abode ;
With all the pomp of God. I long to join the saints above,
Who, crown'd with glorious bays, Through radiant files of angels move,
And rival them in praise ;
The fair incarnate Son,
In hope to ling without a fob,
The anthem ever new,
And yain delights, Adieu,