5 Could we bear from one another, What he daily bears from us?
Yet this glorious Friend and Brother,
Loves us tho' we treat him thus:
Tho' for good we render ill,
He accounts us brethren ftill.
6 Oh! for grace our hearts to foften!
Teach us, LORD, at length to love;
We, alafs! forget too often,
What a Friend we have above:
But when home our fouls are brought,
We will love thee as we ought.
ECCLESIASTE S.
LIV. Vanity of Life (a). Chap. i. 2. 1 THE evils that befet our path Who can prevent or cure?
We ftand upon the brink of death
When moft we feem fecure.
2 If we to-day fweet peace poffefs,
It foon may be withdrawn;
Some change may plunge us in diftrefs
Before to-morrow's dawn.
Disease and pain invade our health
And find an eafy prey;
And oft, when leaft expected, wealth
Takes wings and flies away.
4. A fever or a blow can shake.
Our wisdom's boafted rule;
And of the brightest genius make
A madman or a fool.
5 The gourds, from which we look for fruit, Produce us only pain;
A worm unfeen attacks the
And all our hopes are vain.
6 I pity those who seek no more
Than fuch a world can give;
Wretched they are, and blind, and poor,
And dying while they live.
Since fin has fill'd the earth with woe,
And creatures fade and die;
LORD wean our hearts from things below,
And fix our hopes on high.
LV. C. Vanity of the world.
OD gives his mercies to be spent ;
Your hoard will do your foul no good:
Gold is a bleffing only lent,
Repaid by giving others food.
2 The world's esteem is but a bribe,
To buy their peace you fell your own;
The flave of a vain-glorious tribe,
Who hate you while they make you known,
3 The joy that vain amufements give,
Oh! fad conclufion that it brings !
The honey of a crowded hive,
Defended by a thousand stings.
'Tis thus the world rewards the fools
That live upon her treach'rous' fmiles;
She leads them, blindfold, by her rules,
And ruins all whom the beguiles.
GOD knows the thousands who go down
From pleasure, into endlefs woe;
And with a long defpairing grone
Blafpheme their Maker as they go.
6 O fearful thought! be timely wife;
Delight but in a Saviour's charms;
And GOD fhall take you to the skies,
Embrac'd in everlasting arms.
LVI. Vanity of the creature fanctified.
I HONEY tho' the bee prepares,
An envenom'd fting he wears;
Peircing thorns a guard compofe
Round the fragrant blooming rose.
2 Where we think to find a sweet,
Oft a painfu! fting we meet :
When the rofe invites our eye,
We forget the thorn is nigh.
3 Why are thus our hopes beguil'd?
Why are all our pleasures spoil'd?
Why do agony and woe
From our choiceft comforts grow?
Sin has been the cause of all!
'Twas not thus before the fall:
What but pain, and thorn, and fting,
From the root of fin can spring?
5 Now with ev'ry good we find
Vanity and grief entwin'd;
What we feel, or what we fear,
All our joys embitter here.
6 Yet, thro' the Redeemer's love,
These afflictions bleffings prove;
He the wounding ftings and thorns,
Into healing med❜cines turns.
7 From the earth our hearts they wean,
Teach us on his arm to lean;
Urge us to a throne of grace,
Make us feek a resting place.
8 In the manfions of our King
Sweets abound without a fting;
Thornlefs there the roses blow,
And the joys unmingled flow.
SOLOMON's SON G.
LVII. The name of JESUS. Chap. i. 3.
WOW fweet the name of JESUS founds,
In a believer's ear?
It fooths his forrows, heals his wounds
And drives away his fear.
2 It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breaft;
'Tis manna to the hungry foul,
And to the weary 'reft.
Dear name! the rock on which I build,
My fhield and hiding place;
My never failing treas'ry fill'd
With boundless ftores of grace.
4 By thee my pray'rs acceptance gain,
Altho' with fin defil'd;
Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am own'd a child.
5 JESUS! my Shepherd, Hufband, Friend,
My Prophet, Prieft, and King;
My LORD, my Life, my Way, my End,,
Accept the praise I bring.
6 Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I fee thee as thou art,
I'll praise thee as I ought.
7 'Till then I would thy love proclaim
With ev'ry fleeting breath;-
And may the mufic of thy name
Refresh my foul in death.
LVIII. C. O LORD, I will praife thee Chap. xii.
1 I Will praise thee ev'ry day
Now thine anger's turn'd away!
Comfortable thoughts arife
From the bleeding facrifice.
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