FRANCIS DAVISON.

REPENTANCE.

THOUGH late, my heart, yet turn at last,
And shape thy course another way;
'Tis better lose thy labour past,

Than follow on to sure decay :
What though thou long have stray'd awry?
In hope of grace, for mercy cry.

Though weight of sin doth press thee down, And keep thee grovelling on the ground; Though black Despair, with angry frown, Thy wit and judgment quite confound; Though time and wit have been misspent ; Yet grace is left, if thou repent.

Weep then, my heart; weep still, and still;
Nay, melt to floods of flowing tears;
Send out such shrieks as heaven may fill,
And pierce thine angry Judge's ears;
And let thy soul, that harbours sin,
Bleed streams of blood to drown it in.

Then shall thine angry Judge's face
To cheerful looks itself apply;
Then shall thy soul be fill'd with grace,
And fear of death constrain'd to fly :
Even so, my God! oh, when? how long?
I would—but sin is too, too strong.

I strive to rise-sin keeps me down;
I fly from sin-sin follows me:
My will doth reach at glory's crown-
Weak is my strength, it will not be:
See, how my fainting soul doth pant!
Oh let thy strength supply my want.

SAPPHICS UPON THE PASSION OF CHRIST.

HATRED eternal, furious revenging,
Merciless raging, bloody persecuting,
Scandalous speeches, odious revilings,
Causeless abhorring;

Impious scoffings by the very abjects,
Dangerous threatening by the priests anointed,
Death full of torment in a shameful order,

Christ did abide here.

He, that in glory was above the angels,
Changed his glory for an earthly carcass,
Yielded his glory to a sinful outcast,

Glory refusing.

Me, that in bondage many sins retained,

He for his goodness-for his goodness onlyBrought from hell torments to the joys of heaven, Not to be number'd;

Dead in offences, by his aid revived,

Quicken'd in spirit by the grace he yieldeth : Sound then his praises, to the world's amazement Thankfully singing.

GOD MY REFUGE.

PSALM XIII.

HEAR, O Lord and God! my cries;
Mark my foes' unjust abusing;
And illuminate mine eyes,

Heavenly beams in them infusing;

Lest my woes, too great to bear,
And too infinite in number,
Rock me soon, 'twixt hope and fear,
Into death's eternal slumber;

Lest my foes their boasting make,
"Spite of right on him we trample ;"
And a pride in mischief take

Hearten'd by my sad example.

As for me I'll ride secure

At thy mercy's sacred anchor,
And undaunted will endure

Fiercest storms of wrong and rancour.

These black clouds will overblow,
Sunshine shall have his returning,

And my grief-wrung heart, I know,
Into mirth shall change his mourning.

Therefore I'll rejoice and sing
Hymns to God, in sacred measure,
Who to happy pass will bring

My just hopes, at his good pleasure.

THE LORD MY SHEPHERD.

God, who doth all nature hold
In his fold,

Is my Shepherd kind and heedful;
Is my Shepherd, and doth keep

Me, his sheep,

Still supplied with all things needful.

He feeds me in fields, which been

Fresh and green,

Mottled with spring's flowery painting;

Through which creep, with murmuring crooks, Crystal brooks,

To refresh my spirit fainting.

Shades on every side enfold me,

Dreadless, having Thee for guide,

Should I 'bide,

For thy rod and staff uphold me.