BAXTER'S POEMS• 93 All are elect that do not to the last Refuse me, and my grace behind them cast. . Sinner. This I have done, and fear I shall do still; Till I the measure of my sins fulfil. Though God be love itself, I shall have none: .I fear my day of grace is past and gone. Methinks I feel, grace doth my soul forsake; Thy holy spirit thou dost from me take. _ [thee; Jesus. Here thou art yet alive; my grace attends And from the jaws of death and Hell defend thee. Satan would fain at once thy soul devour: What dangers dost thou walk in ev'ry hour? Yet thou art safe, and hear'st the preacher's voice: _ Come, close with mercy, and Heav'n will rejoice. · Dost thou not feel my spirit still contend? And tell thee what it is that thou must mend? If yet thou'lt be but willing to be mine ; I and my benefits will sure be thine. I seek; I knock; thou find'st I have not done: Yet dost thou say, thy day of grace is gon~ ? Sinner. 0 but I have a heart as hard as steel ! 1 see my misery, but cannot feel ! Jesus. Fully to feel what thou deservest, is Hell, What measure 's best, it's I that best can tell. Sinner. I can scarce weep a tear for sin : this heart Was never melted yet by all thine art! Sure it's a sign my day of grace is gone, When this uuhumbled heart remains a stone. Jesus. Consent but to my covenant, and be sure, The remnant of thy hardness I will cure .
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