8 BAXTER's POEMS. The uncreated Im~ge of thy love, By his assumption, and the holy dove, On his own flesh thy image first imprest; And by that stamp ren~ws it on the rest. Love was his nature, doctrine, life and breath : Love flamed in his sufferings and death : Thus Love thine image, love on man doth print: This coin, thy Son, thy Word and Spirit mint. He that will have it true, must have it here ; Though love prepare its way by grief and feC\1· : Yea, oft by these expresseth its desire ; They are sincere when kindled by its fire. These are love's methods, passing tongue and pen : Wonders and joys, to angels, and to men. THE SECOND PART. LovE, which can make its object, did produce This worm, in season, for its proper use : In the earth's garden, the most happy land, [mand : Where Christians dwell, and Christian kings cornWhere plenteous streams of living waters flow ; Where the first-fruits of paradise do grow : Whence proud, dark, bloody popery was driven: To whom the opened book of God was given. Where sacred guides, and books, and helps abound ; And all that will, may hear the joyful sound. My parents here thy skilful hand did plant, Free from the snares of riches and of want. 'I~heir tender care was us'd for me alone, Because thy Providence gave them but one :
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