Imatges de pÓgina


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Thought.grace deferv'd yet-higher praise,
That wash'd the blots of num'rous days.
Anon the war more close began,
Whạt praising harp fhould lead the van?
And which of grace's heav'nly peers
Was deepest run in her arrears ?
“ 'Tis 1, (said one,) 'bove all my race,
- Am debtor chief to glorious grace."
4 Nay, (faid another,) hark, I trow,
" I'm more oblig'd to grace than you.
“ Stay, (said a third, I deepest share
“ In owing praise beyond compare :
16 The chief of finners, you'll allow,
“ Muft be the chief of fingers now.”

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:

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Aflisting angels clappd their wings,
And founded grace on all their strings.
The emulation round the throne
Made proftrate hosts (who ev'ry one
The humblest place the right avow)
Strive who should give the lowest bow.
The next contention without vice
Among the birds of paradise,
Made every glorious warbling throat
Strive who should raise the highest note.
Thus in sweet holy humble strife,
Along their endless, joyful life,
Of Jesus all the harpers rove,
And sing the wonders of his love.
Their discord makes them all unite
In raptures molt divinely sweet';
So great the fong, fo grave the bass,
Melodious music fills the place.

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Earth despicable, Heaven defirable.
Here's nothing round the spacious earth

To suit my vast defires;
To more refind and solid nuirth :

My boundless thought afpires.
Fain would I leave this mournful place,

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,
And hollow clouds with thund'ring groans

Discharge their pregnant womb :
Where eagles mounting meet with rubs

That dash them from the sky:
And cedars, fhrinking into shrubs,

In ruin proftrate lie :
Where, fin the author of turmoils,

The cause of death and hell,
The one thing foul that all things foils,

Does most befriended dwell,
The purchaser of night and woe,

The forfeiture-of day,
The debt that ev'ry man did owe,

But only God could pay.
Bewitching ill, indors'd with hope,

Subscribed with despair :
Ugly in death when eyes are ope,

Though life may paint it fair.
Small wonder that I droop alone

In such a doleful place :
When lo, my deareft friend is gone,

My father hides his face.
And though in words I feem to show

The fawning poet's ftile,
Yet is my plaint no feigned woe ;.

I languith in exile.
I long to Thare the happinefs

Of that triumphant throng,
That swim in seas of boundless bliss

Eternity along
When but in drops here by the way

Free love distils itself,

pour connpt on hills of prey,

And hea of wordly pelf.
To be amii my little joys,

Thronespeptres, crowns, and kings, Are nothinelle but little toys,

And desçable things.
Down witHisdain earth's pomp I thrust,

Bid tempng wealth


: Heav'n is nomade of yellow duft,

Nor bliss (glitt'ring clay.
Sweet was te hour I freedom felt
To call me Jesus mine;

To see his filing face, and melt

In pleasues all divine.
Let fools a: heav'n of fhades pursue,

But I fo fubftance am;
- The heav' I seek is likeness to,

And vion of the Lamb:
The worhy lamb with glory crown's

In hisaugust abode ;
Inthron'l sublime, and deck'd around

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 ;
In praise to JAH, the God of love,

The fair incarnate Son,
The holy co-eternal Dove,
The good, the great Three-ong

In hope to ling without a fob,

The anthem ever new,
I gladly bid the dusty globe,

And yain delights, Adieu,

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