No righteousness my hands have wrought. Shall ever form my plea: My soul recoils at such a thought; Thy mercy, in that trying scene, No blood but thine can wash me clean, My most devoted acts, when try'd, But in his Saviour's breast. Jesus, my "rock," on which I build, O for that wisdom to prepare, And, when I stand before that bar, May Jesus be my friend! SYDNAY. RESIGNATION. THESE hearts, alas! cleave to the dust Whilst ev'ry sorrow cuts a string, And urges us to rise. When Heaven would kindly set us free, And earth's enchantment end; It takes the most effectual way, Resign-and all the load of life Its heavy load, ten thousand cares, Who bids us lay our burden down YOUNG. THE CIRCUMCISION. RISE, thou best and brightest morning, With thine own blush thy cheeks adorning, All the purple pride that laces The crimson curtains of thy bed, Gilds thee not with so sweet graces, Nor sets thee in so rich a red. Of all the fair-cheek'd flowers that fill thee, None so fair thy bosom shows, As this modest maiden lily, Our sins have sham'd into a rose. Bid thy golden god the sun, Burnish'd in his best beams, rise, Put all his red-ey'd rubies on; Those rubies shall put out their eyes. CRASHAW. CHORUS OF THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM. WELCOME all wonders in one sight! Eternity shut in a span, Summer in winter, day in night, Heaven in earth, and God in man; Welcome! though not to gold nor silk, With many a rarely-temper'd kiss That breathes at once both maid and mother, She sings thy tears asleep, and dips That in their buds yet blushing lie; Welcome! though not to those gay flies But to poor shepherds, homespun things, Yet when young April's husband-showers To kiss thy feet, and crown thy head. To thee, meek Majesty! soft King Each his pair of silver doves, Till burnt at last in fire of thy fair eyes, CRASHAW. THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. AND is there care in heav'n? and is there love To serve to wicked man,-to serve his wicked foe. Oh! why should heav'nly God to man have such regard! LOVEST THOU ME? HARK, my soul! it is the Lord; SPENSER. Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee: And, when bleeding, heal'd thy wound; Can a woman's tender care Lord, it is my chief complaint, COWPER. NEW VERSION OF THE 15TH PSALM. จ ere God and everlasting pleasures reign! he who takes religion for his guide, ad hand in hand with innocency moves; ruth, with her train of virtues, on his side, And all the charms of purity he loves. |