So hateful and abhorr'd, that heavenly lips Disdain to mention; but for this devote To ample vengeance, at th' appointed day When she shall burn by heaven's awakened ire, And God in thunder vindicate his law.
Yet in this world, such is the sovereign will Of heaven's dread Monarch, and his high decree, The sons of grace and heirs of glory dwell. Here they are kept at distance from his throne, And from surrounding evils safe preserv'd By powerful grace; and here they undergo Such discipline as trains them for the skies. On their account it is that vengeance stays, And heaven's rich blessings crown this wicked world In wide profusion. When the last of all
The ransom'd race hath pass'd the gates of death, Almighty vengeance, like a flood, will burst From heaven's high throne, and wrap the world in fire.
These are the objects of his choice regard Whom the bright natives of the sky adore, Who once was dead, but lives and reigns for ever. He keeps them in his eye; his power supports In every trouble. At the hour of death
His arms receive them; and his guards he sends In shining squadrons, his cherubic guards To fetch them to his throne.
The joyful cause which wings our present flight. Nor is a common saint our precious charge;
But one whose love and labours well are known On heavenly ground. How often have his prayers Ardent ascended thro' thick night, and burn'd Like grateful incense, which heaven's king receiv'd With pleasing smiles which bright'ned all the sky.
How oft, amongst the happy sons of light, Hath the Redeemer spoke his servant's praise; And, smiling, held him up to heavenly view, As a defender of his righteous cause? Mention'd his labours, and his holy zeal With approbation and enjoin'd the throng Of listening cherubs to adorn their harps With flowery garlands, and prepare new songs Against the joyful, th' appointed day Which brings him to the skies.
And holy wonder hath the ardent train
Of warrior angels, when from earth's low plains They brought some precious saint to heavenly heights, And taught their unfledg'd wings to scale the skies; Heard them relate, how from their native night And heavy slumber on the brink of hell, They were awoke to see their dreadful state, And sue for mercy, by the mighty power Of sovereign grace, which to their hearts apply'd Some powerful portion dropping from the lips Of that dear servant of the Lord, who now Demands the care of our surrounding shields, Our swiftest pinions and our sweetest songs.
And with what transport have we often heard, As we ascended thro' the trackless void
With some fair charge, how the Redeemer's love Was first display'd to cheer their drooping hearts By some sweet words, which heavenly power apply'd, Warm from the heart and flowing from the lips Of this dear man! How have the saints been warn'd Not to erect their building on the sand,
But on th' eternal rock, which all hell's powers Can never shake! How have their doubts been clear'd By the full blaze of heavenly truth! How were Their minds enlighten'd, comforted, upheld By his instructions! With what fervent praise Have they approach'd the great Redeemer's throne, And, safe on heavenly ground, have bless'd the day When first they sat attentive at his feet And heard his words!
'Tis true, he was indeed
A burning and a shining light; set up
By heavenly power to lead the ransom❜d race Safe thro' the darkness which o'ershades the land. The heights of science in his youth he gain'd, And with a rapid course explor'd th' extent Of learning's province. Then, by powerful grace, Call'd out, and to his Saviour's vineyard sent, His ardent soul, inspir'd with love divine, Pour'd all her faculties and all her strength Into the noble work: and all her powers Burn'd to display a bleeding Saviour's love, And teach a wond'ring world Immanuel's praise.
The great Redeemer's glories to reveal, And make the saints more ready to embrace A free salvation, 'twas his constant care To show the wretched state of native man. How from the bitter fountain of the fall, In every stream, the dire pollution runs. Corrupt and wicked all the rising race Of Adam stands. Not one but in his heart Dares to withstand his Maker's sov'reign will, And all his father in his soul rebels.
For this devote to death each sinner stands And heavy vengeance hangs o'er all the race; Which none escape but thro' a Saviour's blood.
But with what holy extasy and joy Did wond'ring crowds hang on the precious lips, Of the dear saint for whom we now descend; While in his powerful, soul-affecting strain The great Redeemer in full glory rose!
How glow'd each heart with joy while he display'd His glorious person, his amazing love,
His great salvation, his victorious deeds, And pardon preach'd to sinners thro' his blood.
How did the skies with acclamations ring, When new ascended souls on heavenly plains Beneath the trees of life, were heard relate To listening angels, in what powerful strain He spake the glories of th' incarnate God; And the exalted Lord of life display'd In the full blaze of Deity supreme:
Ador'd, as such, by all the happy throng Of saints and angels, while he fills the skies With boundless glory.-Hence, ye impious throng! Whose darken'd minds and eyes unus'd to light, Ach at the glories of the Son of God.
Ye, whose bold pride presumes such daring heights As would degrade the sovereign of the skies; And will not worship at the glorious throne Where every bright archangel veils his face, And falls with deepest reverence. But, vain man
Would fain be wise; and in his native filth Boldly rush in where angels dare not tread, And make a god himself can comprehend!
And with what clearness did the pious saint, Whose voice on earth will now be heard no more, Display the glories and the mighty power Of Sovereign Grace! Not by the will of man, He plainly show'd, but the all-conquering might Of God the Spirit, is each sinner call'd. 'Tis his resistless power that first begins, Maintains, and thro' each stage he carries on The noble work; prevailing o'er the filth Of ruin'd nature, 'till it stand complete, In heavenly glory. All the ransom'd race, Safe-guided thro' the wilderness, shall find Their Father's house. Not one of all the train Shall ever perish. All the powers of hell, Tho' all their rage unite against one saint, Can never pluck him from his Saviour's arms. But sinful man, such is his native pride, Would fain be sharer in this noble work; Of his own doings a proud structure raise, And from its summit boldly mount the skies. But heaven, with anger, views the impious toil Of all such builders; mocks their vain attempts,
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