'Tis palfy, dropfy, fever,
And madness-all combin'd;
And none but a believer.
The least relief can find.

3 From men great skill profeffing,
I thought a cure to gain;
But this prov'd more distreffing,
And added to my pain:

Some faid that nothing ail'd me,
Some gave me up for loft;
Thus ev'ry refuge fail'd me,
And all my hopes were crofs'd;
4 At length this great Physician,
How matchless is his grace!
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my cafe:
Firft gave me fight to view him,
For fin my eyes had feal'd;
Then bid me look unto him,
I look'd, and I was heal'd,"

5 A dying, rifen JESUS,
Seen by the eye of faith;
At once from anguish frees us,
And faves the foul from death;
Come then to this Physician,
His help he'll freely give;
He makes no hard condition,
*Tis only—look and live.

LXIII. To the afflicted, toffed with tempefts and not comforted. Chap. liv. 5-11 I pEnfive, doubting, fearful heart, Hear what CHRIST the Saviour fays; Ev'ry word fhould joy impart, Change thy mourning into praife: Yes, he speaks, and speaks to thee, May he help thee to believe! Then thou presently wilt fee, Thou haft little caufe to grieve. 2" Fear thou not, nor be afham'd, All thy forrows foon fhall end : I who heav'n and earth have fram'd, Am thy husband and thy friend : I the High and Holy One, Ifrael's GOD by all ador'd; As thy Saviour will be known, Thy Redeemer and thy LORD.. 3 For a moment I withdrew, And thy heart was fill'd with pain; But thy mercies I'll renew, Thou fhalt foon rejoice again Tho' I feem to hide my face. Very foon my wrath fhall ceafe; 'Tis but for a moment's space, Ending in eternal peace.

4 When my peaceful bow appears. (7). Painted on the wat❜ry cloud;

'Tis to diffipate thy fears,

Left the earth fhould be o'erflow'd:

(1) Genefis ix, 13, 14.

'Tis an emblem too of grace,

5

Of my cov'nant love a fign;

Tho' the mountains leave their place,
Thou shalt be for ever mine.

Tho' afflicted, tempeft-tofs'd,
Comfortless a while thou art,
Do not think thou canst be loft,
Thou art graven on my heart:
All thy waftes I will repair,
Thou shalt be rebuilt anew;
And in thee it fhall appear,
What a GOD of love can do.

LXIV. C. The contrite heart. Chap. Ivii. 15

I

THE

HE LORD will happiness divine
On contrite hearts beftow:
Then tell me, gracious GoD is mine
A contrite heart, or no?

2 Lhear, but feem to hear in vain,
Infenfible as fteel;

If ought is felt, 'tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.

3 I fometimes think myself inclin'd
To love thee, if I could;
But often feel another's mind,
Averse to all that's good.

4 My best defires are faint and few,
Í fain would strive for more;

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But when I cry, "My ftrength renew,"
Seem weaker than before.

5 Thy faints are comforted I know, And love thy houfe of pray'r;

I therefore go where others go,

But find no comfort there.

6 O make this heart rejoice, or ach;
Decide this doubt for me;

And if it be not broken, break,
And heal it, if it be.

LXV. C. The future peace and glory of the church. Chap. 1x. 15—20.

I

HEar

Ear what God the LORD hath spoken,
O my people, faint and few;

Comfortless, afflicted broken,
Fair abodes I build for you:
Thorns of heart-felt tribulation
Shall no more perplex your ways;
You shall name your walls, falvation,
And your gates fhall all be praise.

2 There, like ftreams that feed the garden,
Pleasures, without end, fhall flow;
For the LORD, your faith rewarding,
All his bounty fhall beftow:

3

Still in undifturb'd poffeffion,
Peace and righteoufnefs hall reign;
Never fhall you feel oppreffion,
Hear the voice of war again.,

Ye no more your funs defcending,
Waning moons no more fhall fee;
But your griefs, for ever ending,
Find eternal noon in me:

E 2

GOD

GOD fhall rife, and shinining o'er you,
Change to day the gloom of night;
He, the LORD, fhall be your glory,
GOD your everlasting light.

JEREMIA H.

LXVI. Truft of the wicked, and the righteous compared. Chap. xvii. 5-8.

I

AS parched in the barren sands

Beneath a burning sky;

The worthless bramble with'ring ftands,
And only grows to die.

2 Such is the finners awful cafe,
Who makes the world his truft;
And dares his confidence to place
In vanity and duft.

3 A fecret curfe destroys his root,
And dries his moisture up ;
He lives awhile, but bears no fruit,
Then dies without a hope.

4 But happy he whofe hopes depend
Upon the LORD alone;

5

The foul that trufts in fuch a friend,
Can ne'er be overthrown.

Tho' gourds should wither, cifterns break,
And creature comforts die ;

No change his folid hope can shake,

Or ftop his fure supply.