Let grace forgive, and love forget
My base, my vile apostasy;
And temper thy deserved hate
With love and mercy toward me.

The ruffling winds and raging blasts
Hold me in constant cruel chase;
They break my anchors, sails, and masts,
Allowing no reposing place.

The boist'rous seas with swelling floods,
On ev'ry side against me fight.
Heav'n: overcast with stormy clouds,
Dims all the planets' guiding light.

The hellish furies lie in wait,

To win my soul into their pow'r; To make me bite at ev'ry bait,

And thus my killing bane devour.

I lie inchain'd in sin and thrall,

Next border unto black despair;

Till grace restore, and of my fall
The doleful ruins all repair.

My hov'ring thoughts would flee to glore,
And nestle safe above the sky;

Fain would my tumbling ship ashore

At that sure anchor quiet lie.

But mounting thoughts are haled down With heavy poise of corrupt load; And blust'ring storms deny with frown A harbor of secure abode.

To drown the wight that wakes the blast, Thy sin-subduing grace afford;

The storm might cease, could I but cast This troublous Jonah overboard.

Base flesh, with fleshly pleasures gain'd, Sweet grace's kindly suit declines; When mercy courts me for its friend, Anon my sordid flesh repines.

Soar up, my soul, to Tabor hill,

Cast off this loathsome pressing load;

Long is the date of thine exile,

While absent from the Lord, thy God.

Dote not on earthly weeds and toys,
Which do not, cannot suit thy taste:

The flow'rs of everlasting joys

Grow up apace for thy repast.

Sith that the glorious God above
In Jesus bears a love to thee;

How base, how brutish is thy love
Of any being less than he?

Who for thy love did choose thy grief,
Content in love to live and die:

Who lov'd thy love more than his life,
And with his life thy love did buy.

Since then the God of richest love
With thy poor love enamor'd is;
How high a crime will thee reprove
If not enamor'd deep with his?

Since on the verdant field of grace
His love does thine so hot pursue :

Let love meet love with chaste embrace,
Thy mite a thousand fold is due.

Rise, love, thou early heav'n, and sing, Young little dawn of endless day:

I'll on thy mounting fiery wing

In joyful raptures melt away.

SECTION V.

THE DESERTED SOUL'S PRAYER FOR THE LORD'S GRACIOUS AND SIN-SUBDUING PRESENCE.

KIND Jesus, come in love to me,

And make no longer stay ;

Or else receive my soul to thee,
That breathes to be away.

A Lazar at thy gate I lie,

As well it me becomes,

For children's bread asham'd to cry;
O grant a dog the crumbs.

My wounds and rags my need proclaim,

Thy needful help insure:

My wounds bear witness that I'm lame,
My rags that I am poor.

Thou many at thy door dost feed
With mercy when distrest;

O wilt thou not show an alms-deed
To me among the rest?

None else can give my soul relief,

None else can ease my moan,

But he whose absence is my grief:

All other joys be gone.

How can I cease from sad complaint,

How can I be at rest?

My mind can never be content
To want my noble guest.

Drop down, mine eyes, and never tire,
Cease not on any terms,

Until I have my heart's desire,
My Lord within mine arms.

My heart, my hand, my spirits fail,
When hiding off he goes:

My flesh, my foes, my lusts prevail,
And work my daily woes.

When shall I see that glorious sight

Will all my sins destroy?

That Lord of love, that lamp of light, Will banish all annoy?

O could I but from sinning cease,

And wait on Pisgah's hill,

Until I see him face to face,

Then should my soul be still.