Swoln with self-will, and principled with pride, A goddess here, she sees her votaries meet, Crowd to her shrine, and tremble at her feet; She hears their vows, believes their life and death Hangs on the wrath and mercy of her breath; Supreme in fancied state she reigns her hour, And glories in her plenitude of power: Herself the only object worth her care, Since all the kneeling world was made for her. For her creation all its stores displays, The silkworms labour, and the diamonds blaze: Air, earth, and sea conspire to tempt her taste, And ransacked nature furnishes the feast. Life's gaudiest pride attracts her willing eyes, And balls, and theatres, and courts arise: Italian songsters pant her ear to please, Bid the first cries of infant reason cease, Save her from thought, and lull her soul to peace. Deep sunk in sense th' imprisoned soul remains, Nor knows its fall from God, for feels its chains: Unconscious still, sleeps on in error's night, Nor strives to rise, nor struggles into light; Heaven-born in vain, degenerate cleaves to earth, (No pangs experienced of the second birth) She only fall'n, yet unawakened found, While all th' enthralled creation goans around. HYMN. THAT "I am thine, my Lord and God: With such an energy and light, power. From various cares my heart retires; And with the souls that are his own. This is my joy (which ne'er can fail,) With these my happy lot is cast! Or through its gardens fair; Still to go on be my whole care. See! the deer sheep by Jesus drawn, They trust his shepherd's crook: O all ye wise, ye rich, ye just, At this one well-spring of delight! Indeed if Jesus ne'er was slain, If his heart's tenderness is fled; Nor Lord of all, as heretofore: Then, (so refers my state to him) And wretched all I do Ah, my heart throbs! and seizes fast It knows, it knows these things are true. No, my dear Lord, in following thee, Not in the dark uncertainty This foot obedient moves; 'Tis with a Brother and a King, Who many to his yoke will bring, Who ever lives and ever loves. Now then, my Way, my Truth, my Life! My soul, which to thy sceptre cleaves. Let me my weary mind recline At all times to my spirit bear Thus all the sequel is well weighed ! A sea where none can sink; Yea, in that sphere I stand, poor worm! Where thou wilt for thy name perform Beyond whate'er I ask or think. HYMN. O TELL me no more Of this world's vain store; The time for such trifles with me now is o'er. A country I've found, Where true joys abound; To dwell I'm determined on that happy ground. The souls that believe In paradise live: And me in that number will Jesus receive. My soul, don't delay, Rise, follow thy Saviour, and bless the glad day. No mortal doth know What light, strength, and comfort: go after him, go! Lo! onward I move, And but Christ above None guesses, how wondrous my journey will prove. Great spoils I shall win From death, hell, and sin; 'Midst outward afflictions, shall feel Christ within. |