they make for an infinite good departed? All nature cannot repair my loss; heaven and earth would offer their treasures in vain; nor all the kingdoms of this world, nor the thrones of archangels, could give me a recompence for an absent God.

O where can my grief find redress? Whence can I draw satisfaction, when the fountain of joy. seals up its streams? My sorrows are hopeless till he return; without him my night will never see a dawn, but extend to everlasting darkness; content and joy will be eternal strangers to my breast. Had I all things within the compass of creation to delight me, his frowns would blast the whole enjoyment; unreconciled to God, my soul would be for ever at variance with itself.

Even now while I believe thy glory hid from me but with a transient eclipse, while I wait for thy return, as for the dawning day, my soul suffers inexpressible agonies at the delay: the minutes seem to linger, and days are lengthened into ages; but, Lord, what keener anguish should I feel, did I think thy presence had totally forsaken me? did I imagine thy glory should no more arise on my soul? My spirits fail at the supposition; I cannot face the dreadful apprehensions of my God for ever gone. Is it not hell in its most horrid prospect? Eternal darkness, and the undying worm, infinite ruin, and irreparable damage! Compared to this, what were

all the plagues that earth could threaten, or hell invent? what is disgrace, and poverty, and pain? what is all that mortals fear, real, or imaginary evils? They are nothing compared to the terrors which the thought of losing my God excites.

O thou, who art my boundless treasure, my infinite delight, my all, my ineffable portion, can I part with thee? I may see without light, and breathe without air, sooner than be blessed without my God. Happiness separated from thee were a contradiction, an impossibility (if I dare speak it) to Omnipotence itself. I feel a flame which the most glorious creation could not satisfy: an emptiness which nothing but infinite love could fill. I must find thee, or weary myself in an eternal pursuit. Nothing shall divert me in the endless search, no obstacle shall fright me back, no allurement with hold me, nothing shall flatter or relieve my impatience; my bliss, my heaven, my all depends on the success. Shew me where thou art, O my God, conduct me into thy presence, and let thy love confine me there for ever.

XVIII. Appeals to God concerning the Supremacy of

love to him.

O GOD, when I cease to love and praise thee, let me cease to breathe and live; when I forget thee, let me forget the name of happiness, and let every pleasing idea be razed from my memory. When

thou art not my supreme delight, let all things else deceive me ; let me grow unacquainted with peace, and seek repose in vain : let delusions mock my gayest hopes; let my desires find no satisfaction, till they are terminated all in thee. When I forget the satisfactions of thy love, O my God, let pleasure be a stranger to my soul; when I prefer not that to my chiefest joy, let me be insensible of all my delight; when thy benignity is not dearer to me than life, let that life become my burden and my pain.

Search the inmost recesses of my heart, and if thou findest any competitor there, remove the darling vanity, and blot out every name but thine from my breast. Let me find nothing but emptiness in the creature, when I forsake the all-sufficient Creator; let the stream be cut off when I wander aLet me be way, and abandon thee the fountain. destitute of assistance, when I cease to rely on thee; let my lips be for ever silent, when they refuse to acknowledge thy benefits, and make not thee the subject of their highest praise. Let no joyful strain enter at my ears, when thy name is not the most delightful sound they can convey to my heart.

I have been pronouncing heavy curses upon myself, if thy love be not my chief blessing; yet, O my dearest good, my portion, and my only felicity, might I not go on further still, and even venture immortal joys on the sincerity of my love to thee?

Blessed Lord, forgive these dangerous efforts of a mortal tongue, which are the mere outbreakings of a fervent affection. I could even dare to pledge all my hopes, and my pretensions to future happiness, (and O let not my heart deceive me), I think I could risk them all, if thou thyself art not the ob ject of my brightest hopes, and the light of thy countenance, the height of that expected happiness.

If I desire any thing in heaven or on earth in comparison of thee, I am almost ready to say, banish me as an eternal exile from the light of paradise even that paradise would be melancholy darkness without thee, and the obscurest corner of the creation, blessed with thy presence, would be more agreeable. Oh! where could I be happy remote from thee? What imaginable good could supply thy absence? Say, O my God, do I not love thee?

Shall I call the holy angels to witness? Shall I call heaven and earth to witness will not the most high God himself, the possessor of heaven and earth, condescend to witness the ardour and sincerity of my love.

With what pleasure do I reflect on the obligations by which I have devoted myself to thee? My soul recollects itself, and with an entire assent gives up all its powers to thee: I would bind myself to thee beyond all the ties that mortals know. You ministers of light give me your flames, and teach me your celestial forms; let all be noble and pa

thetic, and solemn as your own immortal vows, and I will joyfully go through them all, to bind myself to my God for ever. Say now, ye heavens and earth, say, ye holy angels, and O thou all-knowing God, say, do I not love thee?

XIX. A devout rapture, or love to God inexpressible.

THOU radiant sun, thou moon, and all ye sparkling stars, how gladly would I leave your pleasant light to see the face of God? Ye crystal streams, ye groves and flowery lawns, my innocent delights, how joyfully could I leave you to meet that blissful prospect? and you delightful faces of my friends, I would this moment quit you all to see him whom my soul loves; so loves, that I can find no words to express the unutterable ardour: not as the miser loves his wealth, nor the ambitious his grandeur;. not as the Libertine loves his pleasures, or the generous man his friend: these are flat similitudes to describe such an intense passion as mine. Not as a man scorched in a fever longs for a cooling draught; not as a weary traveller wishes for soft repose; mý restless desires admit of no equal comparison from these.

I love my friend; my vital breath, and the light of heaven, are dear to me: but should I say, I love my God as I love these, I should belie the sacred flame which aspires to infinity. It is thee, abstract