THE HUMBLE ENQUIRY. A FRENCH SONNET IMITATED. 1695. "Grand Dieu, tes jugemens," &c. GRACE rules below, and sits enthron'd above; How few the sparks of wrath! how slow they move, And drop and die in boundless seas of love! But me, vile wretch! should pitying love embrace Yea, Lord, my guilt, to such a vastness grown, Thine honour bids, "Avenge thy injur'd name," Should heaven grow black, almighty thunder roar, And vengeance blast me, I could plead no more, But own thy justice, dying, and adore. Yet can those bolts of death that cleave the flood To reach a rebel, pierce this sacred shroud, Tinged in the vital stream of my Redeemer's blood? THE PENITENT PARDONED. HENCE from my soul, my sins, depart, Long have you dwelt too near my heart, Ye gave my dying Lord his wound, Black heavy thoughts, like mountains, roll O'er my poor breast, with boding fears, And crushing hard my tortured soul, Wring through my eyes the briny tears. Forgive my treasons, Prince of Grace! Great Advocate, look down and see Peace, my complaints; let every groan Lo, from the everlasting skies, How sweet the voice of pardon sounds! A HYMN OF PRAISE FOR THREE GREAT SALVATIONS. VIZ. 1. From the Spanish Invasion, 1588. 2. From the Gunpowder Plot, Nov. 5, 1605. 3. From Popery and Slavery, by King William, of gloriov memory, who landed Nov. 5, 1688 Composed, Nov. 5, 1695. INFINITE God, thy counsels stand From pole to pole thy name is known, Our labouring tongues would reach thy throne Part of thy church, by thy command, In vain the Spanish ocean roared; "Come," said the sons of bloody Rome, "Let us provide new arms from hell;” And down they digg'd thro' earth's dark womb, And ransack'd all the burning cell. Old Satan lent them fiery stores, Beneath the Senate and the Throne, There the dark seeds of fire were sown, To spring a bright but dismal day. Thy love beheld the black design, THE SECOND PART. ASSUME, my tongue, a nobler strain, Dark as our thoughts our minutes roll, Ran, threatening death, through every town. The Roman priest, and British prince, ""Tis done," they cried, and laugh'd aloud; But lo, the great Deliverer sails, |