One sullen beam, whose charge is to dispense
More punishment than knowledge to my sense.
Two thousand years

I sojourned thus. At last Jeshurun's king
Those famous tables did from Sinai bring.
These swelled my fears,

Guilts, trespasses, and all this inward awe;
For sin took strength and vigour from the law.
Yet have I found

A plenteous way, (thanks to that Holy One!)
To cancel all that e'er was writ in stone.
His saving wound

Wept blood that broke this adamant, and gave
To sinners confidence, life to the grave.

This makes me span

My fathers' journeys, and in one fair step
O'er all their pilgrimage and labours leap.
For God, made man,

Reduced the extent of works of faith; so made
Of their Red Sea a spring: I wash, they wade.

'As by the offence of one the fault came on all men to condemnation; so by the righteousness of one, the benefit abounded towards all men to the justification of life.'-ROM. v. 18.

THE SHOWER.

1 'Twas so; I saw thy birth. That drowsy lake From her faint bosom breathed thee, the disease Of her sick waters, and infectious ease.

But now at even,

Too gross for heaven,

Thou fall'st in tears, and weep'st for thy mistake.

2 Ah! it is so with me; oft have I pressed Heaven with a lazy breath; but fruitless this

Pierced not; love only can with quick access

Unlock the way,

When all else stray,

The smoke and exhalations of the breast.

3 Yet if, as thou dost melt, and, with thy train
Of drops, make soft the earth, my eyes could weep
O'er my hard heart, that's bound up and asleep,
Perhaps at last,

Some such showers past,

My God would give a sunshine after rain.

BURIAL.

1 O thou! the first-fruits of the dead,
And their dark bed,

When I am cast into that deep

And senseless sleep,

The wages of my sin,
O then,

Thou great Preserver of all men,
Watch o'er that loose

And empty house,

Which I sometime lived in!

2 It is in truth a ruined piece,

Not worth thy eyes;

And scarce a room, but wind and rain
Beat through and stain

The seats and cells within;
Yet thou,

Led by thy love, wouldst stoop thus low,
And in this cot,

All filth and spot,

Didst with thy servant inn.

3 And nothing can, I hourly see,

Drive thee from me.

Thou art the same, faithful and just,
In life or dust.

Though then, thus crumbed, I stray
In blasts,

Or exhalations, and wastes,

Beyond all eyes,

Yet thy love spies

That change, and knows thy clay.

4 The world's thy box: how then, there tossed,
Can I be lost?

But the delay is all; Time now
Is old and slow;

His wings are dull and sickly.
Yet he

Thy servant is, and waits on thee.
Cut then the sum,

Lord, haste, Lord, come,

O come, Lord Jesus, quickly!

'And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the first-fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the re demption of our body.'-Rom. viii. 23.

CHEERFULNESS.

1 Lord, with what courage and delight
I do each thing,

When thy least breath sustains my wing
I shine and move

Like those above,

And, with much gladness

Quitting sadness,

Make me fair days of every night.

2 Affliction thus mere pleasure is;

And hap what will,

If thou be in't, 'tis welcome still.
But since thy rays

In sunny days

Thou dost thus lend,

And freely spend,

Ah! what shall I return for this?

3 Oh that I were all soul! that thou Wouldst make each part

Of this poor sinful frame pure heart!
Then would I drown

My single one;

And to thy praise

A concert raise

Of hallelujahs here below.

THE PASSION.

1 O my chief good!
My dear, dear God!

When thy blest blood

Did issue forth, forced by the rod,

What pain didst thou

Feel in each blow!

How didst thou weep,
And thyself steep

In thy own precious, saving tears!

What cruel smart

Did tear thy heart!

How didst thou groan it

In the spirit,

O thou whom my soul loves and fears!

2 Most blessed Vine!

Whose juice so good
I feel as wine,

But thy fair branches felt as blood,

How wert thou pressed

To be my feast!

In what deep anguish

Didst thou languish!

What springs of sweat and blood did drown thee! How in one path

Did the full wrath

Of thy great Father

Crowd and gather,

Doubling thy griefs, when none would own thee!

3 How did the weight

Of all our sins,

And death unite

To wrench and rack thy blessed limbs!

How pale and bloody

Looked thy body!

How bruised and broke,

With every stroke!

How meek and patient was thy spirit!

How didst thou cry,

And groan on high,
'Father, forgive,

And let them live!

I die to make my foes inherit!'

4 O blessed Lamb!

That took'st my sin,

That took'st my shame,

How shall thy dust thy praises sing?