BELIEVER'S LODGING AND INN WHILE ON EARTH;
A POEM AND PARAPHRASE UPON PSALM LXXXIV.
Ver. 1. How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hofls!
JEHOVAH, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Sole Monarch of the universal hoft,
Whom the attendant armies ftill revere,
Which in bright robes furround the higher fphere;
Whofe fovereign empire fways the hellifh band
Of ranked legions in the infernal land;
Who hold'st the earth at thy unrivall'd beck,
And stayeft proud forces with a humbling check;
Ev'n thou whofe name commands an awful dread,
Yet deigns to dwell with man in very deed;
O what refreshment fills the dwelling place
Of thine exuberant unbounded grace!
Which with sweet power does joy and praise extort,
In Zion's tents, thine ever lov'd refort:
Where glad❜ning ftreams of mercy from above
Make fouls brim full of warm feraphic love.
Of sweetest odours all thy garment fmells;
Thy dismal absence proves a thousand hells,
But heavens of joy are where thine honour dwells.
Ver. 2. My foul longeth, yea even fainteth for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God.
Therefore on thee I centre my defire,
Which veh❜mently burfts out in ardent fire.
Deprived, ah! I languifh in my plaint,
My bones are feeble, and my fpirits faint.
My longing foul pants to behold again
Thy temple fill'd with thy majestic train;
Thofe palaces with heavenly odour ftrew'd,
And regal courts, where Zion's King is viewed:
To fee the beauty of the highest One,
Upon his holy mount, his lofty throne:
Whence virtue running from the living Head
Reftores the dying and revives the dead :
For him my heart with cries repeated founds,
To which my flesh with echo loud rebounds
For him, for him, who life in death can give,
For him, for him, whofe fole prerogative
Is from and to eternity to live.
Ver. 3. Tea, the Sparrow hath found an boufe, and the faval low a neft for herself, where he may lay her young, ever thine aliars, O Lord of hofts, my King and my God.
Alas! how from thy lovely dwellings I,
Long banish'd, do the happy birds envy;
Which, choofing thy high altars for their neft,
On rafters of thy tabernacle rest!
Here dwells the fparrow of a chirping tongue,
And here the fwallow lays her tender young;
Faint facrilege, they feize the facred spot,
And feem to glory o'er my absent lot.
Yet fure. I have more fpecial right to thee
Than all the brutal hofts of earth and fea;
That Sovereign at whofe government they bow,
Is wholly mine by his eternal vow ;
My King to rule my heart and quell my foes,
My God t' extract my well from present woes,
And crown with endless glory at the close.
Ver. 4. Bleed are they that dwell in thy houfe; they will be fill praifing thee.
O happy they that haunt thy houfe below,
And to thy royal fanctuary flow:
Not for itself, but for the glorious One,
Who there inhabits his erected throne!
Others pafs by, but here their dwelling is!
O happy people crown'd with bays of blifs!
Blefs'd with the fplendid luftre of his face,
Blefs'd with the high melodious found of grace,
That wakens fouls into a fweet amaze,
And turns their spirits to a harp of praise;
Which loudly makes the lower temple ring
With hallelujahs to the mighty King:
And thus they antedate the nobler fong
Of that celestial and triumphant throng,
Who warble notes of praife eternity along.
Ver. 5. Bleed is the man whofe ftrength is in thee :
What weights of blifs their happy fhoulders load,
Whofe ftrength lies treasur'd in a potent God?
Self drained fouls, yet flowing to the brim,
Because void in themselves, but full in him.
Adam the first discuss'd their stock of strength,
The fecond well retriev'd the fum at length;
Who keeps himself a furer hand indeed,
To give not as they lift, but as they need.
When raging furies threaten fudden harms,
He then extends his everlasting arms;
When fatan drives his pointed fiery darts,
He gives them courage and undaunted hearts
To quell his deadly force with divine skill,
And adds new strength to do their Sovereign's will:
When fore harafs'd by fome outrageous luft,
He levelling its power unto the dust
Makes faints to own him worthy of their truft.
Ver. 6. In whofe hearts are the ways of them, who paffing through the valley of Bacca, make it a well: the rain alfo filleth the pools.
Such heav'n born fouls are not to earth confin'd,
Truth's highway fills his elevated mind :
They, bound for Zion, prefs with forward aim,
As Ifra'ls males to old Jerufalem.
Their holy path lies through a parched land,
Through oppofitions numerous and grand.
Traverfing fcorched deferts, ragged rocks,
And Bacca's wither'd vale, like thirsty flocks:
Yet with unfhaken vigour homeward go,
Not mov'd by all oppofing harms below.
They digging wells on this Gilboa top,
The vale of Achor yields a door of hope:
For Heav'n in plenty does their labour crown,
By making filver fhow'rs to trickle down ;
Till empty pools imbibe a pleasant fill,
And weary fouls are heart'ned up the hill,
By maffy drops of joy which down distil.
Ver. 7. They go from ftrength to strength, every one of them in Zion appeareth before God.
Thus they, refreshed by fuperior aid,
Are not defatigated nor difmay'd;
Because they are, O truth of awful dread!
As potent as Jehovah in their Head.
Hence they shall travel with triumphant minds,
In fpite of ragged paths and boift'rous winds.
The roughest ways their vigour ne'er abates,
Each new affault their ftrength redintegrates.
When they through mortal blows feem to give o'er,
Their ftrength by intermiting gathers more.
And thus they, with unweary'd zeal endu❜d,
Still as they journey have their strength renew'd:
So glorious is the race, that once begun
Each one contends his fellow to outrun ;
Till all uniting in a glorious band,
Before the Lamb's high throne adoring stand,
And harp his lofty praise in Zion land.
Ver. 8. O Lord God of hofts, hear my prayer: give ear, O God of Jacob.
Great God of num'rous hofts, who reigns alone The fole poffeffor of th' imperial throne;
Since mental taftes of thy delicious
So fweetly relish in thy holy place,
This is the fubject of my tabled prayer,
To have the vision of thy glory there.
O let my cry pierce the ethereal frame,
And mercy's echo follow down the fame.
Omniscient Being, favour my defire,
Hide not thy goodness in paternal ire:
Why, thou haft given in an eternal band
To Jacob and his feed thy royal hand,
And promis'd by thy facred Deity,
His King and covenanted God to be:
Therefore my hopes are center'd all in thee.
Ver. 9. Behold, O God, our field, and look upon the face of thine anointed.
Omnipotent, whofe armour none can wield,
Zion's great buckler and defensive shield;
Thy pure untainted eyes cannot behold
Deformed mortals in their finful mould :
Unless their names be graved on the breast
Of Zion's holy confecrated Priest.
When they his white and glorious garment wear,
Then fin and guilt both wholly disappear:
Because o'erwhelmed in the crimfon flood,
And ocean of a dying Surety's blood :
They alfo, vefted with his radiant grace,
Reflect the luftre of his holy face.
They're not themselves now, but divinely trim,
For wholly what they are, they are in him:
And hence Jehovah's all difcerning eye
Cannot in them efpy deformity.
Then look on him, Lord; and in him on me.
Ver. 10. For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand I had rather be a door keeper in the houfe of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.
May I poffefs, as thy domeftic child,
The house that by Jehovah's name is styl'd:
For royal glories deck thofe courts of thine,
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