BAXTER'S POEMS. · /9 Lest I thine ancient loves no more rehearse~ But all my thanks as a mistake reverse. And lest unruly grief should make me break. Thy holy laws, and things unseemly speak. And lest the temper should advantage take, The Heav'n-built structure of my hopes to shake, Lest I be drawn with Job to curse the day, In which my soul was married to clay ! Lest this rash tongue thy precious love deny, And in distress, should call thee enemy. . Break not the heart on which thou wrot'st thy name, . J;.est those bless'd letters perish with the frame. Thy word commands us always to rejoice· Fain I would do it, but thou stopp'st my voice. Can I rejoice, whenas thy angry dart Is piercing night and day my wounded heart ? Can I rejoice and bleed; rejoice an.d die ? Can I rejoice, when thou dost joy deny? Can I mix night and day? or death and life? Or heat and cold ? or quietness and strife ? Or twist the highest joy .with deepest sorrow ? Dwelling near Hell to-day, and Heav'n to-morrow? Will joys agree with heavy sighs aud groans, And sweetest comforts·dwell with broken bones? When I would rise and sing thy love's renown, Then comes another wave and strikes me down . Brimstone and flames· methinks upon me rain , As if I were adjudged to Sodom's pain. 0, my dear God! why dost thou me forsake ? And all my bones and heart in pieces shake ? I took thee for my only life and joy: 0 do not now this trembling soul destroy !
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