5 Then in a nobler, fweeter fong. I'll fing thy pow'r to fave;

When this poor lifping ftam'ring tongue
Lies filent in the grave.

Lord, I believe thou haft prepar'd
(Unworthy though I be)

For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!

7 'Tis ftrung, and tun'd, for endless years, And form'd by pow'r divine;

To found in God the Father's ears
No other name but thine.

MALACHI.

LXXX. They fball be mine, faith the LORD.
Chap. iii. 16.-18.

I WHEN finners utter boafting words,
And glory in their thame;

The Lord, well-pleas'd, an ear affords
To thofe who fear his name,

2 They often meet to feek his face,
And what they do, or fay,

3

Is noted in his book of grace ༤༥༢༥

Against another day.

For they by faith a day defcry,

And joyfully expect,

When he, defcending from the fky,
His jewels will collect.

4 Unnotic'd now, becaufe unknown,
A poor and fuff'ring few;

He comes to claim them for his own,
And bring them forth to view.

5 With transport then their Saviour's care.
And favour they fhall prove;
As tender parents guard and fpare
The children of their love.

6 Affembled worlds will then difcern
The faints alone are bleft;
When wrath fhall like an oven burn
And vengeance strike the reft.

MATTH.E W.

LXXXI. The Beggar. Chap. vii. 7. 8
Ncourag'd by thy word

Of promise to the poor,

Behold, a beggar, Lord,

Waits at thy mercy's door!

No hand, no heart, O Lord, but thine,
Can help or pity wants like mine.

2 The beggar's ufual plea,
Relief from men to gain,
If offer'd unto thee,

I know thou wouldst difdain;

And pleas which move thy gracious ear
Are fuch as men would fcorn to hear.

3 I have no right to fay,
That though I now am poor,
Yet once there was a day

When I poffeffed more:

Thou know'it that from my very birth

I've been the pooreft wretch on earth.

4 Nor can I dare profefs,

As beggars often do,

Tho' great is my diftrefs,

My wants have been but few:

If thou fhouldft leave my foul to starve,
It would be what I well deferve.

D 5

5 'Twere

5 "Twere folly to pretend
I never begg'd before;
Or if thou now befriend,

I'll trouble thee no more:
Thou often haft reliev'd my pain,
And often I must come again.
6 Tho' crumbs are much too good
For fuch a dog as I,

No less than children's food
My foul can fatisfy:

O do not frown and bid me go,
I must have all thou canst bestow.

7 Nor can I willing be

Thy bounty to conceal

From others who, like me,
Their wants and hunger feel:
I'll tell them of thy mercy's ftore,
And try to fend a thousand more.
8 Thy thoughts, thou only wife!
Our thoughts and ways tranfcend,
Far as the arched skies

Above the earth extend *:

Such pleas as mine men would not bear,
But God receives a beggar's pray's.

LXXXII. The Leper. Chap. viii. 2. 3.

FT as the leper's cafe I read,
My own describ'd I feel;

Sin is a leprofy indeed,

Which none but Chrift can heal.

2 A while I would have pafs'd for well,

And ftrove my spots to hide;

Till it broke out incurable,
Too plain to be deny'd.

Ifaiah, lv. 8. 9.

3

3. Then from the faints I fought to flee,
And dreaded to be feen;

I thought they all would point at me,
And cry, "Unclean, unclean!"
4 What anguish did my foul endure,
Till hope and patience ceas'd?
The more I ftrove myself to cure,
The more the plague increas'd.
While thus I lay diftrefs'd, I saw
The Saviour paffing by ;

5

To him, tho' fill'd with fhame and awe, I rais'd my mournful cry.

6 Lord, thou canst heal me if thou wilt,
For thou canft all things do;

O cleanse my leprous foul from guilt,
My filthy heart renew!

7 He heard, and with a gracious look
Pronounc'd the healing word;

"I will, be clean," and while he fpokeI felt my health restor❜d.

8 Come, lepers, feize the prefent hour,›
The Saviour's grace to prove ;.
He can relieve, for he is pow'r;
He will, for he is love.

LXXXIII. A Sick Soul. Chap, ix. 12.

13 Phyfician of my fin-fick soul,
To thee I bring my cafe;
My raging malady controul,
And heal me by thy grace.
2 Pity the anguish I endure,

See how I mourn and pine;
For never can I hope a cure
From any hand but thine.

3 I would difclofe my whole complaint,
But where fhall I begin?,
No words of mine can fully paint
That wort diftemper, fin.

4 It lies not in a fingle part,
But thro' my frame is spread;
A burning fever in my heart,
A pally in my head.

5 It makes me deaf, and dumb, and blind, And impotent and lame;

t

And overclouds, and fills my mind
With folly, fear, and fhame.

6 A thousand evil thoughts, intrude
Tumultuous in my breaft;

Which indifpofe me for my food,
And rob me of my reft.

7 Lord, I am fick, regard my cry,
And fet my fpirit free:
Say, canft thou let a finner die,
Who longs to live to thee?

LXXXIV. Satan returning. Chap. xii. 43.—45.

HEN Jefus claims the finner's heart,
Where Satan rul'd before;

The evil fpirit muft depart,

And dares return no more.

2. But when he goes without constraint,
And wanders from his home,
Altho' withdrawn, 'tis but a feint,
He means again to come.

A

3 Some outward change perhaps is feen. If Satan quit the place;

But tho' the house feem fwept and clean, 'Tis deftitute of grace.

4 Except