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But will Christ to such sinners Saviour be, Who long and wilfully contemn'd his grace? Yes, if they have but hearts to him to come; He excepts none : he'll all their sins deface. The prodigal now hopefully resolves, In Christ I'll trust, and to my Father go, When there's but one way, who should stand and doubt? The vanity of all things else I know. If in his house I may the lowest be, His wondrous grace I will with thanks proclaim; My sin and misery I will confess, And in repentance take deserved shame. And when repenting souls are thus resolved, And with design do tow'rds their Father come, They are surprised with unexpected love, Grace feasts, forgives them, bids them welcome home. Now the returned soul doth dwell with God, And God in him, for there his Spirit dwells; God hath his highest love, Heaven his chief hope, Christ is his life; he trusteth to none else. O how much better is it with him now; How wise, how safe, to what he was before ! What he's yet short of, faith has in its view, He'll choose the way of sin and hell no more. Now farewell mortal sin, stoop brutish flesh, Now pride and lust come down, submit to faith; Farewell ensnaring sports and company, Farewell deceit, I'll hear what scripture saith. Now all is new, new judgments, love and life, New hopes, delights, a new intended end; The means then must be new, or better used; New friends, new thoughts, and all that to it tend.

But yet, though out of Egypt he be come,
Through the Red Sea, he's in a wilderness;
Faith must be tried by many enomies,
Hard journeys, wants, delayed hopes, distress.
And filesh still strives, Satan still busy is,
The world will tempt, sin's not quite overcome;
Dark fears and unbelief do yet hang on,
We are in hope, but are not yet at home.
But yet we have the leading fire and cloud,
The law, the angels' presence as we pass;
Moses fell in the wilderness; but there
The Tempter by our Saviour vanquish'd was.
The law was weak, and nothing perfect made;
Grace giveth light, and life, and love, and strength;
And though it long, and oft assaulted be,
It conquereth, and triumpheth at length.
It is the work of God, who knows his own,
And makes them Christ's beloved interest;
All that are given him, he loves and keeps,
And brings them to the promised land of rest.
Grace suited is to every time and state,
To childhood, manhood, and decrepid age;
An antidote against contagious pleasures,
Yet grief, wrath, fear, and suffering doth assuage.
It useth every state for the true end;
It sanctifies prosperity and wealth;
Still doing good, and doth to Godward tend,
To bim devoteth time, life, wit, and health.
It useth friends and enemies for God,
Improveth kindness, easily bears wrong;
Loves others as ourselves, doth right to all,
Hopes for a blessed end, when suffering long.

It takes not too much part with pained flesh,
It ruleth reason, appetite, and sense;
Conquers temptations, keepeth inward peace,
Keeps near to God, who is our sure defence.
It all the way foresees the blessed end,
Motives to duty, comfort in all grief,
It fetcheth more from God and Heav'n, than earth,
In every case from Christ it finds relief.
It spendeth health and life in preparation,
For foreseen death, and the soul's final change,
It's not surprised without expectation;
It trusteth Christ, when things unseen seem strange.
All this Grace doth, in various degrees,
In most but weak, imperfect in the best;
Clogg'd here with flesh, and contradicting sin,
But ends in glory and eternal rest.

Its whole work is to bring man's will to God,
As our original, our guide, and end,
Thankfully take his Grace, obey his word,
And wholly love him as our chiefest friend.
And more than so, to love him for himself,
The final object of created love;
This only perfect ones, perfectly do,
Who see God's glory in the world above. Amen

Jan. 6, 1683.

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ACCORDING to thy gracious word,

In meek humility,
This will I do, my dying Lord,

I will remember thee.
Thy body broken for my sake,

My bread from heaven shall be,
Thy testamental cup I take,
And thus remember thee.

Gethsemane can I forget ?

Or there thy conflict see,
Thine agony and bloody sweat,

And not remember thee?
When to the cross I turn mine eyes,

And rest on Calvary,
O Lamb of God, my sacrifice!

I must remember thee :

Remember thee, and all thy pains,

And all thy love to me;
Yes, wbile a breath, a pulse remains,

Will I remember thee.
And when these failing lips grow dumb,

And mind and memory flee,
When Thou shalt in thy kingdom come,

Jesus, remember me.

THE FESTAL MORN.

[MERRICK.)

The festal morn, my God, is come,
That calls me to thy honour'd dome,

Thy presence to adore :
My feet the summons shall attend,
With willing steps thy courts ascend,

And tread the hallow'd door.

E'en now to our transported eyes,
Fair Sion's towers in prospect rise,

Within her gates we stand,
And, lost in wonder and delight,
Behold her happy sons unite,

In friendship’s firmest band.

Hither from Judah's utmost end
The Heav'n protected tribes ascend;

Their off'rings hither bring;
Here, eager to attest their joy,
In hymns of praise their tongues employ,

And hail th’immortal King.

By his command impell’d, to her
Contending crowds their cause refer;

While princes from her throne,
With equal doom, th' unerring law
Dispense, who boast their birth to draw

From Jesse's favour'd Son.

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