But, Saviour, let me taste thy grace

With every fleeting breath,

And through that heaven of pleasure pass

To the cold arms of death.

Then I could lose successive souls

Fast as the minutes fly;

So billow after billow rolls,

To kiss the shore, and die.

A SIGHT OF CHRIST.

The substance of the following copy, and many of the lines, were sent me by an esteemed friend, Mr. W. Nokes, with a desire that I would form them into a Pindaric Ode; but I retained his measures, lest I should too much alter his sense.

ANGELS of light, your God and King surround,
With noble songs; in his exalted flesh
He claims your worship; while his saints on earth
Bless their Redeemer-God with humble tongues.
Angels with lofty honours crown his head;
We, bowing at his feet, by faith may feel
His distant influence, and confess his love.

Once I beheld his face, when beams divine Broke from his eyelids, and unusual light Wrapt me at once in glory and surprise.

My joyful heart, high leaping in my breast,
With transport cried, "This is the Christ of God!"
Then threw my arms around in sweet embrace,
And clasp'd, and bow'd, adoring low, till I was lost
in him.

While he appears, no other charms can hold Or draw my soul, asham'd of former things, Which no remembrance now deserve or name, Though with contempt; best in oblivion hid.

But the bright shine and presence soon withdrew;
I sought him whom I love, but found him not.
I felt his absence; and with strongest cries
Proclaim'd, "Where Jesus is not, all is vain."
Whether I hold him with a full delight,
Or seek him, panting with extreme desire,
'Tis he alone can please my wondering soul;
To hold or seek him is my only choice.
If he refrain on me to cast his eye

Down from his palace, nor my longing soul
With upward look can spy my dearest Lord
Through his blue pavement, I'll behold him still
With sweet reflection on the peaceful cross,
All in his blood and anguish groaning deep,
Gasping and dying there. . . . ..

This sight I ne'er can lose; by it I live:
A quickening virtue from his death inspir'd
Is life and breath to me; his flesh my food;
His vital blood I drink, and hence my strength.

I live, I'm strong, and now eternal life

Beats quick within my breast; my vigorous mind
Spurns the dull earth, and on her fiery wings
Reaches the mount of purposes divine,

Counsels of peace betwixt the Almighty Three,
Conceiv'd at once, and sign'd without debate,
In perfect union of the Eternal Mind.

With vast amaze, I see the unfathomed thoughts,
Infinite schemes, and infinite designs

Of God's own heart, in which he ever rests.
Eternity lies oper to my view;

Here the beginning and the end of all

I can discover; Christ the end of all,
And Christ the great beginning; he, my head,
My God, my glory, and my all in all.

O that the day, the joyful day, were come, When the first Adam from his ancient dust, Crown'd with new honours, shall revive, and see Jesus his Son and Lord; while shouting saints Surround their King, and God's eternal Son Shines in the midst, but with superior beams, And like himself. Then the mysterious word, Long hid behind the letter, shall appear All spirit and life, and in the fullest light Stand forth to public view; and there disclose His Father's sacred works, and wondrous ways. Then wisdom, righteousness, and grace divine, Through all the infinite transactions past Inwrought and shining, shall with double blaze

Strike our astonish'd eyes, and ever reign
Admir'd and glorious in triumphant light.

Death, and the tempter, and the man of sin, Now at the bar arraign'd, in judgment cast, Shall vex the saints no more; but perfect love And loudest praises perfect joy create,

While ever-circling years maintain the blissful

state.

LOVE ON A CROSS, AND A THRONE.

Now let my faith grow strong, and rise,
And view my Lord in all his love;
Look back to hear his dying cries,
Then mount and see his throne above.

See where he languish'd on the cross;
Beneath my sins he groan'd and died;
See where he sits to plead my cause
By his almighty Father's side.

If I behold his bleeding heart,
There love in floods of sorrow reigns;
He triumphs o'er the killing smart,
And buys my pleasure with his pains.

Or if I climb the eternal hills

Where the dear Conqueror sits enthroned,
Still in his heart compassion dwells,
Near the memorials of his wound.

How shall a pardon'd rebel show
How much I love my dying God?
Lord, here I banish every foe;

I hate the sins that cost thy blood.

I hold no more commerce with hell,
My dearest lusts shall all depart;
But let thine image ever dwell
Stampt as a seal upon my heart.

A PREPARATORY THOUGHT FOR THE LORD'S SUPPER.

AN IMITATION OF ISAIAH, LXIII. 1, 2, 3.

WHAT heavenly Man, or lovely God,
Comes marching downward from the skies,
Array'd in garments roll'd in blood,
With joy and pity in his eyes?