LYRIC Condescending Grace. In Imitation of the csivth Psalm. i WHEN the Eternal bows the skies, To visit earthly things, With scorn divine he turns his eyes From towers of haughty kings ; Y Rides on a cloud disdainful by A Sultan, or a Czar, Laughsat the worms that rise so high, Or frowns 'em from afar : 3 He bids his awful chariot roll Far downward from the skies, To visit every humblé soul, With pleasure in his eyes. Why should the Lord that reigns above Disdain so lofty kings? flac, Lord, and why such looks of love Upon such worthless things ? 5 Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares Dispute his awful will; Ask no account of his affairs, But tremble, and be still. s Just like his nature is his grace, All sov'reign, and all. free ; [ways! Great God, how searchless are thy Iiow deep thy judgments be l The Infinite. ì SOME seraph, lend your heav'nly tongue, Or harp of golden string, That I may raise a lofty song To our eternal King. Y Thy names, how infinite they be ! Great Everlasting One ! Boundless thy might and majesty, And unconfrn'd thy throne. 3 Thy glories shine of wond'rons size, And wondrous large thy grace Immortal day breaks from thine eyes, And Gabriel veils his face. 4 Thine essence is a vast abyss, Which angels cannotsound; An ocean of infinities, Where all our thoughts are drown'd. 6 The myst'ries of creation lie Beneath enlighten'd minds ; Thoughts can ascend above the sky; And (ly before the winds. 6 Reason may grasp the massy hills, And stretch from pole to pole,, But half thy name our spirit fills, And overloads our soul. 7 In vain our haughty reason swells, For nothing's found in Thee But boundless inconceivables, And vasteternity. POEMS. 243 Ceefession and Pardon, 1 ALAS, my aching heart! Here the keen torment lies ; It racks my waking hours with smart, And frights my slumb'ring eyes. 2 Guilt will be hid no more, My griefs take vent apace, The crimes that blot 'my conscience o'er Flush crimson in my face. 3 My sorrows, like a hood; Impatient of- restraint, Into thy bosom, O my God, Pour out a long complaint. 4 This impious heart Of mine Could once defy the Lord, Could rush with violence on to sin, In presence of thy sword. How often have I stood A. rebel to. the skies, The calls, the tenders of a -God; And mercy's loudest cries! e He offers all his grace, And all his heav'n to me ; Offers! but 'tis to senseless brasi, That cannot feel nur see. 7 Jesus the Saviour stands To court me from above, And looks and spreads his wounded hands, And shews the prints of love: 8 But I, a stupid fool, How long have I withstood The blessings purchas'd with his soul, And paid for all in blood? 9 The héav'nly Dove came down, And tender'd me his wings To mount-rue upward to a crown, And bright immortal things. IO Lord, l'm asham'd to say That I refus'd thy Dove, And sent thy Spirit griev'd away, To his own realms of love. li Not all thine heav'nly -charms, Nor terrors of thy hand; Could force me to lay down my arms, And bow to thy command. IS Lord, 'tis against thy face My sins like arrows rise, And yet, and yet, O matchless grace! Thy thunder silent lies. 13 O shall I never feel The meltings of thy love? Am I of such hell-harden'd steel That mercy cannot move? 14 Nov for one pow'rful glance, Dear Saviour, from thy face! This rebel. heart no more withstands, But sinks beneath thy grace. is O'ercome by dying love I fall, Hear at thy cross 1 lie;
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