So fhall the King the more rejoice
In thee, the fav'rite of his choice;
Let him be lov'd, and yet ador'd,
For he's thy Maker and thy Lord.
O happy hour! when thou fhalt rife
To his fair palace in the fkies,
And all thy fons (a num'rous train)
Each like a prince in glory reign.
Let endless honors crown his head;
Let ev'ry age his praises spread:
While we with cheerful songs approve
The condefcenfions of his love.

334.

L. M.

WATTS'S H.

The Church's Requeft and Complaint.

HO is this fair one in distress,

WHO

That travels from the wilderness,
And prefs'd with forrows and with fins,
On her beloved Lord the leans?

This is the spouse of Chrift our God,
Bought with the treasures of his blood;
And her requeft, and her complaint,
Is but the voice of ev'ry faint.

"O let my name engraven f
ftand.
"Both on thy heart, and on thy hand:
"Seal me upon thine arm, and wear
"That pledge of love for ever there.

"Stronger than death thy love is known,
"Which floods of wrath could never drown;
"And hell and earth in vain combine
"To quench a fire fo much divine.

"But I am jealous of my heart,
"Left it fhould from my Love depart;
"O let thy name be well impress'd
"As a fair fignet on my breaft.

"Till thou haft brought me to thy home,
"Where fears and doubts can never come;
"Thy count'nance let me often fée,
"And often thou shalt heat from me.
"Come, my Beloved, hafte away,
"Cut fhort the hours of thy delay,
Fly like a youthful bart or roe
"Over the bills where fpices grow."

335.

L. M. WATTS'S H.

The Church's Beauty in the Eyes of Chrift.

KIND is the fpeech of Chrift our Lord,

Affection founds in ev'ry word;

"Lo, thou art fait my love! (he cries ;) "Not the young doves have fweeter eyes. "Sweet are thy lips, thy pleafing voice "Salutes mine ear with facred joys; "No fpice fo much delights the fmell, "Nor milk nor honey tafte fo well. "Thou art all fair, my bride, to me; "I can behold no fpot in thee." What mighty wonders love performs; To put a comlinefs on worms! Defil'd and loathfome as we are, He makes us white, and calls us fair; Adorns us with that heav'nly dress, His graces and his righteousness.

My fifter, and my fpoufe," (he cries) "Bound to my heart by various ties,

66

Thy pow'rful love my heart detains
"In ftrong delight and pleafing chains."
He calls us from the leopard's den,
From this wide world of beafts and men,
To Sion, where his glories are;
Not Lebanon is half fo fair.

Nor dens of prey, nor flow'ry plains,
Nor earthly joys, nor earthly pains,
Should hold our feet, or force our stay,
When Chrift invites our fouls away.

336. L. M.

WATTS'S H.

The Love of Chrift to the Church.

NAppears the King, and thus he fays,

TOW the gall'ries of his grace

"How fair my faints are in my fight!
"My Love, how pleasant for delight!"
Kind is thy language, fov'reign Lord,
There's heav'nly grace in ev'ry word!
From that dear mouth a ftream divine
Flows fweeter than the choiceft wine.
Such wond'rous love awakes the lip
Of faints that were almost asleep,
To speak the praifes of thy name,
And make our cold affections flame.
These are the joys he lets us know,
In fields and villages below,
Gives us a relish of his love,
But keeps his noblest feast above.

In paradife, within the gates,
An higher entertainment waits;
Fruits new and old laid up in store,
Where we thall feed, but thirst no more.

337, L. M. WATTS'S H.

Chrift appearing to his Church, &c.

THE

HE voice of my Beloved founds Over the rocks and rifing grounds; O'er hills of guilt, and feas of grief, He leaps, he flies to my relief. Now, thro' the veil of flesh, I fee With eyes of love he looks at me; Now in the gofpel's cleareft glafs He fhews the beauties of his face. Gently he draws my heart along, Both with his beauties and his tongue;

Rife, (faith my Lord,) make hafte away, "No mortal joys are worth thy stay.

"The Jewish wintry ftate is gone, "The mifts are fled, the fpring comes on ; "The facred Turtle-Dove we hear "Proclaim the new, the joyful year.

"Th' immortal Vine of heav'nly root, "Bloffoms and buds, and gives her fruit." Lo, we are come to taste the wine; Our fouls rejoice and blefs the Vine. And when we hear our Jefus fay, "Rife up my love, make hafte away!" Our hearts would fain out fly the wind, And leave all earthly joys behind.

338. L. M.

WATTS'S P.

L

God's Protection of bis Church.

ET Zion in her King rejoice,

Tho' tyrants rage and kingdoms rife ;

He utters his almighty voice,

The nations melt, the tumult dies.

The Lord of old for Jacob fought,
And Jacob's God is ftill our aid:
Behold the works his hand has wrought,
What defolations he has made.

From fea to fea, thro' all the hores,

He makes the noife of battle deafe : When from on high his thunder roars, He awes the trembling world to peace.

He breaks the bow, he cuts the spear; Chariots he burns with heav'nly flame: Keep filence, all the earth, and hear

The found and glory of his name.

"Be ftill, and learn that I am God;
"I'll be exalted o'er the lands:
"I will be known and fear'd abroad,
"But ftill my throne in Zion ftands."

O Lord of hofts, almighty King!
While we fo near thy prefence dwell,
Our faith fhall fit fecure and fing
Defiance to the gates of hell.

T