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But when from the meridian star

Long streaks of glory shine,
And heaven invites her from afar,
She takes the hint, she knows the sign,

The music ascends her heavenly car, [divine. And climbs the steepy path, and means the throne Then she leaves my fluttering mind

Clogg'd with clay, and unrefin'd,
Lengths of distance far behind!

Virtue lags, with heavy wheel;
Faith has wings, but cannot rise,
Cannot rise. . . . Swift and high
As the winged numbers fly,
And faint devotion panting lies
Half way the ethereal hill.

Oh! why is piety so weak,

And yet the muse so strong?
When shall these hateful fetters break,
That have confin'd me long?
Inward a glowing heat I feel,
A spark of heavenly day;
But earthly vapours damp my zeal,

And heavy flesh drags me the downward way.
Faint are the efforts of my will,

And mortal passion charms my soul astray,
Shine, thou sweet hour of dear release,
Shine from the sky,

And call me high

To mingle with the choirs of glory and of bliss.

Devotion there begins the flight,

Awakes the song, and guides the way; There love and zeal, divine and bright, Trace out new regions in the world of light, And scarce the boldest muse can follow or obey.

I'm in a dream, and fancy reigns,
She spreads her gay delusive scenes
Or is the vision true?

Behold religion on her throne,

In awful state descending down,

And her dominions, vast and bright, within my spacious view.

She smiles, and with a courteous hand

She beckons me away;

I feel mine airy powers loose from the cumbrous clay,

And with a joyful haste obey

Religion's high command.

What lengths and heights and depths unknown!

Broad fields with blooming glory sown,

And seas, and skies, and stars her own,
In an unmeasur'd sphere!

What heavens of joy, and light serene,
Which nor the rolling sun has seen,
Where nor the roving muse has been,
That greater traveller!

A long farewell to all below,

Farewell to all that sense can show,

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To golden scenes, and flowery fields,
To all the worlds that fancy builds,
And all that poets know.

Now the swift transports of the mind

Leave the fluttering muse behind, A thousand loose Pindaric plumes fly scattering down the wind.

Amongst the clouds I lose my breath,
The rapture grows too strong:
The feeble powers that nature gave
Faint, and drop downward to the grave;
Receive their fall, thou treasurer of death;
I will no more demand my tongue,
Till the cross organ, well refin❜d,

Can trace the boundless flights of an unfetter'd mind,

And raise an equal song.

THE HAZARD OF LOVING THE

CREATURES.

The following Poems of this Book are peculiarly dedicated to Divine Love.1

WHERE'ER my flattering passions rove,

I find a lurking snare; 'Tis dangerous to let loose our love Beneath the Eternal Fair.

Souls whom the tie of friendship binds,

And partners of our blood,
Seize a large portion of our minds,
And leave the less for God.

Nature has soft but powerful bands,

And reason she controls;

While children, with their little hands,
Hang closest to our souls.

1 Different ages have their different airs and fashions of writing. It was much more the fashion of the age, when these Poems were written, to treat of divine subjects in the style of Solomon's Song, than it is at this day, which will afford some apology for the writer in his youngest years.

Thoughtless, they act the old serpent's part;
What tempting things they be!

Lord, how they twine about our heart,
And draw it off from thee!

Our hasty wills rush blindly on
Where rising passion rolls,

And thus we make our fetters strong
To bind our slavish souls.

Dear Sovereign! break these fetters off,

And set our spirits free;

God in himself is bliss enough,
For we have all in thee.

DESIRING TO LOVE CHRIST.

COME, let me love: or is thy mind
Harden'd to stone, or froze to ice?
I see the blessed Fair One bend
And stoop to embrace me from the skies!

O! 'tis a thought would melt a rock,
And make a heart of iron move,

That those sweet lips, that heavenly look,

Should seek and wish a mortal love!

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