164 BAXTER'S POEMS. THE EXIT. MY soul go boldly forth, Forsake this sinful earth, What hath it been to thee But pain and sorrow, And thinkest thou it will be Better to-morrow? Love not this darksome womb, Nor yet a gilded tomb, Though on it written be Mortal men's story, Look up by faith, and see Sure, joyful glory. Why art thou for delay ? Thou cam'st not here to stay : What tak'st thou for thy part, But heav'nly pleasure? Where then should be thy heart, But where's thy treasure ? 'lny God, thy head's above ; There is the world of love ; Mansions there purchas'd are, By Christ's own merit, For these he doth prepare 'Thee by his spirit. Look up towards Heav'n, and see How \'ast those regions be, Where blessed spirits dwell, How pure and lightful !