Rides on a cloud disdainful by A sultan or a czar, Laughs at the worms that rise so high, He bids his awful chariot roll To visit every humble soul, Why should the Lord, that reigns above, Say, Lord, and why such looks of love Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares Dispute his awful will; Ask no account of his affairs, But tremble and be still. Just like his nature is his grace, All sov❜reign, and all free; Great God! how searchless are thy ways! How deep thy judgments be! THE INFINITE. SOME seraph, lend your heavenly tongue, Or harp of golden string, That I may raise a lofty song To our eternal King. Thy names, how infinite they be ! Thy glories shine of wond'rous size, Thine essence is a vast abyss, An ocean of infinities, Where all our thoughts are drown'd. The mysteries of creation lie Beneath enlighten'd minds; Thoughts can ascend above the sky, And fly before the winds; Reason may grasp the massy hills, In vain our haughty reason swells, CONFESSION AND PARDON. ALAS, my aching heart! Here the keen torment lies; It racks my waking hours with smart, And frights my slumb'ring eyes. Guilt will be hid no more, The crimes that blot my conscience o'er Flush crimson in my face. My sorrows, like a flood, Impatient of restraint, Into thy bosom, O my God, Pour out a long complaint. This impious heart of mine How often have I stood The calls, the tenders of a God, He offers all his grace, And all his heaven to me; Offers! but 'tis to senseless brass, That cannot feel nor see. Jesus, the Saviour stands To court me from above, And looks and spreads his wounded hands, And shows the prints of love. But I, a stupid fool, How long have I withstood The blessings purchas'd with his soul, And paid for all in blood! The heavenly Dove came down, And tender'd me his wings To mount me upward to a crown, And bright immortal things. Lord, I'm asham'd to say And sent thy Spirit griev'd away, To his own realms of love. Not all thine heavenly charms, Could force me to lay down my arms, And bow to thy command. Lord, 'tis against thy face My sins like arrows rise, And yet, and yet (O matchless grace!) Thy thunder silent lies. O shall I never feel The meltings of thy love? That mercy cannot move? Now for one powerful glance, Dear Saviour, from thy face! This rebel heart no more withstands, But sinks beneath thy grace. O'ercome by dying love I fall, And throw my soul, my flesh, my all, |