His Prayer. O God, to whom belong the issues of death, at whose terrible name the very foundation of my soul trembles; I, a poor convicted sinner, accused by my own conscience, and ready to be condemned by thy justice, do here, in the very wounding of my heart, confess myself a miserable creature. I have nothing to plead, O God, but mercy; and where shall I find that mercy but in my merciful Redeemer? Blessed Redeemer, that hast promised victory to those that strive, and life to those that overcome, teach thou my hands to war, and my fingers to fight; give me a loyal heart, that the enticements of the world may not seduce it; give me a constant spirit, that the pleasures of the flesh may not entice it; give me a wise foreeast, that the subtlety of the devil may CAN not entrap me. Let not the multitude of mine enemies discourage me, nor the greatness of their power dismay me, nor the weakness of my arm dishearten me. Thou, that gavest little Israel victory against great Pharaoh, strengthen me; thou that gavest little David the day against the great Goliah, succour me; thou that gavest single Sampson conquest against the numerous Philistines, save me. Lord, fight against them that fight against my soul. Arise, O God, and let thine enemies be confounded: Lord, shield me from the fury of my own corruptions, for they are many; deliver me from the imaginations of my own heart, for they are evil, and that continually. Let not the frailty of my youth beset me, and keep me from the danger of my secret sins. Double my watchfulness upon my Dalilah, that is so apt to kiss me and betray me. Without thy grace I have no will to strive, no power to stand, no hope to conquer. Sustain me, that I may not faint; second me, that I may not fly; strengthen me, that I may not yield. Gird my loins with truth, and let my breast-plate be thy righteousness; that, putting on the helmet of salvation, I may fight a good fight, and receive a crown of glory; that, having passed the terrors of the first death, I may escape the torments of the second, and triumph with thee in the kingdom of glory. SION. Her Decay. Dost ask me why so sad? or, can my sorrow be thy wonder? Canst thou, or can thine eye, expect a sunshine where the greater lamp of heaven is eclipsed? or can my heart be frolic when the vineyard of my soul is blasted? Can the children of the bride-chamber choose but hang their heads to see the bridegroom slighted, and the bride's lovely cheeks profaned with every peasant's hand? Can poor affrighted lambs wanton and frisk upon the present plains, when their worried mothers tremble at the quest of every cur? What member can rejoice when the body is dismembered? Sion, the glory of Heaven, is darkened, and her bright beams obscured; Sion, the vineyard of our souls, is blasted, and her clusters are grown sour; Sion, the bride of my Redeemer, is defiled; her blood-washed robes are soiled and slubbered; Sion, the mistress of our flocks, is overpowered, and her tender lambs have no protection; Sion, the mother of us all, is barren, and her uberous breasts are dry; Sion, the glorious corporation of the Π elect, is factious in itself, and her members are disjointed. Ah! how can my distressed soul find rest, when Sion, the rest of my distressed soul, is oppressed? How many of her dearest children are now tugging at the slavish oar of in-. fidels! how many roaring under the imperious hand of the daughter of Babylon! how many banished from their native soils, and driven from their usurped possessions! This vine, which Heaven's right hand hath planted, is decayed; her fences broken, her hedge trodden down, her body torn by schismatics, cankered with heretics, blasted with fiery spirits; her branches rent with the wild boar; her her grapes devoured with the wily fox; her shepherds are turned wolves, and have devoured her flocks; confusion is within her walls, and desolation is near unto her gates. O Jerusalem, if I forget to mourn for thee, let my right hand forget her cun |