40 BAXTER'S POEMS. But among all, none did so much abound With fruitful mercies, as that barren ground, Where I did make my best and longest stay, And bore the heat and burden of the day; Merci'es grew thicker there than summer-flowers, They over-numbered my days and hours: There was my dearest flock, and special charge. Our hearts in mutual love thou didst enlarge · 'Twas there that mercy did my labours bless With the n\ost great and wonderful success. Yet there were sons qf Belial, whose rage Reason with truth and love could not assuage: Who loved and hated, just as Satan bid them· Ruled by the reins of lust by him that rid them: In 'swinish drunkenness they drown'd their wits : Most furious in their rude ' tUmultuous fits. As boars or stags, at other times more tame, When lustful heats their blood and brains inflame, Fiercely assault such as stand in the way; None' s safe before them till their heats decay; So doth the love of revellings and sport, Poor brutish fleshly sinners so transport, That.ragingly they fly in that man's face, Who doth by l')acred truth their sin disgrace · And as in armies drums and trumpets sound, The frightful cries of wounded men to drown ; And even the fearful in the furious crowd Are carried on to death through streams of blood: So those ensnared youths who formerly, Out of the rout retain'd some mod~sty, Conjoined with the rabble, did as they, The common fury and their lusts obey :
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