4.

What earthly Thing can thee annoy?

He made the Earth to be:

The Waters cannot thee destroy,
Thy Husband made the Sea.

5.

Don't fear the flaming Element,
Thee hurt with burning Ire;
Or that the fcorching Heat torment,
Thy Husband made the Fire.

6.

Infectious Steams fhall ne'er deftroy,
While he is plea'd to spare;
Thou shalt thy vital Breath enjoy,
Thy Husband made the Air..

7.

The Sun that guides the golden Day,
The Moon that rules the Night,
The ftarry Frame, the Milky-way,
Thy Husband made for Light.

8.

The Bird that wings its airy Path,,
The Fish that cuts the Flood,

The creeping Crowd that fwarms beneath,
Thy Husband made for good..

9.

The grazing Herd, the Beafts of Prey,
The Creatures great and small,
For thy Behoof their Tribute pay,
Thy Husband made them all.

10.

Thine's Paul, Apollos, Life and Death,
Things prefent, Things to be.

And every Thing that Being hath,
Thy Husband made for thee.

II.

In Tophet of the damn'd's Refort,
Thy Soul fhall never dwell;
Nor needs from thence imagine Hurt,
Thy Husband formed Hell.

13.

His black Temptations may afflict,
His fiery Darts annoy ;

But all his Works, and hellish Trick,
Thy Husband will destroy,

14.

Let Armies ftrong of earthly Gods,
Combine with hellish Ghofts,
They live, or languish, at his Nods;
Thy Husband's Lord of Hofts.

15.

What can thee hurt, whom doft thou fear?

All things are at his Call.

Thy Maker is thy Husband dear,

Thy Husband All in All.

16.

What dost thou feek, what doft thou want?

He'll thy Defires fulfil ;

He gave himself, what won't he grant?

Thy Husband's at thy Will.

17.

The more thou doft of him defire,

The more he loves to give :
High let thy mounting Aims afpire,
Thy Husband gives thee Leave.

The

18.

The less thou feek'ft, the lefs thou doft

His Bounty fet on high;
But highest Seekers here do moft

Thy Husband glorify.

19.

Wouldst thou have Grace, well; but 'tis meet
He should more Glory gain;

Wouldst thou have Father, Son, and Spʼrit,
Thy Husband fays, Amen.

20.

He'll kindly act the liberal God,
Devifing liberal Things;
With royal Gifts his Subjects load,
Thy Husband's King of Kings.

21.

No earthly Monarchs have fuch Store,,
As thou haft even in hand;

But O how infinitely more,

Thy Husband gives on Band..

22.

Thou haft indeed the better Part,:,

The Part will fail thee never::
Thy Husband's Hand, thy Husband's Heart,
Thy Husband's All for ever.

The END of the POEM upon Ifa. liv. 5.

GOSPEL SONNETS,

OR,

SPIRITUAL SONGS.

PART III.

The BELIEVER'S RIDDLE:

OR,

The MYSTERY of FAITH.

The PREFACE.

Shewing the Ufe and Design of the RIDDLE.

R

Eader, the following Enigmatick Song
Does not to wifeft Naturalifts belong :

Their Wisdom is but Folly on this Head,
They here may ruminate, but cannot read.

For tho' they glance the Words, the Meaning chokes,
They read the Lines but not the Paradox.

The Subject will, howe'er the Phrafe be blunt,
Their most acute Intelligence furmount,
If with their natural aud acquired Sight,
They share not divine evangelick Light.

GreatWits may roufe their Fancies, rack their Brains, And after all their Labour lofe their Pains:

Their wifeft Comments were but witless Chat,
Unapt to frame an Explication pat.
No unregenerate Mortal's beft Engines,
Can right unriddle thefe few rugged Lines;
Nor any proper Notions thereof reach,
Tho' fublimated to the higheft Stretch.
Mafters of Reafon, plodding Men of Senfe,
Who fcorn to mortify their vain Pretence,
In this myfterious Deep might plod their Fill,.
It overtops the Top of all their Skill.

The more they vainly huff, and fcorn to read,
The more it does their foolish Wit exceed.

Thefe Sinners that are fanctify'd in part,
May read this Riddle truly in their Heart.
Yea, weakest Saints may feel its trueft Senfe,
Both in their fad and fweet Experience.
Don't overlook it with a rambling View,
And rafh fuppofe it, neither good nor true,
Let Heav'n's pure Oracles the Truth decide,
Renounce it, if it can't that Teft abide.
Noble Bereans foon the Senfe may hit,
Who found the divine Depth of facred Writ,
Not by what airy carnal Reafon faith,
But by the galden Line of Heav'n-fpun Faith.

Let not the naughty Phrafe make you difprove
The weighty Matter which deferves your Love.
High Strains would spoil the Riddle's grand Intent,
To teach the weakest, moft illiterate Saint,
That Mahanaim is his proper Name;

In whom two ftruggling Hofts make bloody Game,
That fuch may know, whofe Knowledge is but rude,
How Good confifts with Ill, and Ill with Good.

That Saints be neither at their worst nor best,
Too much exalted, or too much depreft.

This Paradox is fitted to difclofe

The Skill of Zion's Friends above her Foes;