M AT THE W.

LXXXI. The beggar. Chap. vii. 7—8. I ENcourag'd by the word

Of promife to the poor ;.. Behold, a beggar, LORD,

Waits at thy mercy's door!

No hand, no heart, O LORD, but thine,
Can help or pity wants like mine.
2 The beggars ufual plea

Relief from men to gain,

If offer'd unto thee,

I know thou would'st disdain:

And pleas which move thy gracious ear,

Are fuch as men would fcorn to hear.

3

I have no right to say

That tho' I now am poor,

Yet once there was a day

When I poffeffed more:

Thou know'ft that from my very birth,
I've been the pooreft wretch on earth.

4

Nor can I dare profess

As beggars often do,

Tho' great is my diftrefs,

My faults have been but few:

If thou fhouldft leave my foul to starve,
It would be what I well deferve.

5 'Twere folly to pretend
I never begg'd before;
Or if thou now befriend,
I'll trouble thee no more:

Thou

Thou often haft reliev'd my pain,
And often I must come again.

6 Tho' crumbs are much too good
For fuch a dog as I;

No less than Childrens' food
My foul can fatisfy:

O do not frown and bid me go,
1 muft have all thou canft beftow.

7 Nor can I willing be

Thy bounty to conceal
From others, who like me,
Their wants and hunger feel:
I'll tell them of thy mercy's ftore,
And try to fend a thousand more.
8 Thy thoughts, thou only wife!
Our thoughts and ways tranfcend,
Far as the arched skies

Above the earth extend (z):

Such pleas as mine men would not bear,
But God receives a beggar's pray'r.

I

LXXXII. The leper. Chap. viii. 2, 3.

FT as the leper's cafe I read,

OFT

My own defcrib'd I feel;

Sin is a leprofy indeed,

Which none but CHRIST can heal.

2 Awhile I would have pafs'd for well,
And ftrove my spots to hide;

Till it broke out incurable,
Too plain to be deny'd,

(x) Ifaiah lv. 8

3 Then from the faints I fought to flee, And dreaded to be feen;

I thought they all would point at me, And cry, "Unclean, unclean !" 4 What anguifh did my foul endure, Till hope and patience ceas'd ? . The more I ftrove myself to cure, The more the plague increas'd. 5 While thus I lay diftrefs'd, I faw The Saviour paffing by;

To him, tho' fill'd with fhame and awe,
I rais'd my mournful cry.

6 LORD, thou canft heal me if thou wilt, For thou canft all things do;

O cleanfe my leprous foul from guilt,
My filthy heart renew!

7 He heard and with a gracious look,
Pronounc'd the healing word;

"I will be clean" and while he spoke I felt my health restor❜d.

8 Come lepers, feize the present hour,

I

The Saviour's grace to prove;

He can relieve, for he is pow'r,
He will, for he is love.

LXXXIII. A fick foul. Chap. ix. 12.

Phyfician of my fin-fick foul,

To thee I bring my cafe;

My raging malady control,
And heal me by thy grace.

2 Pity the anguish I endure,
See how I mourn and pine;
For never can I hope a cure
From any hand but thine.

3 I would difclofe my whole complaint,
But where fhall I begin?
No words of mine can fully paint
That worst distemper, fin.

4

It lies not in a fingle part,
But thro' my frame is spread;
A burning fever in my heart,
A palfy in my head.

5 It makes me deaf, and dumb, and blind,
And impotent and lame;
And overclouds, and fills my mind,
With folly, fear, and fhame.
6 A thousand evil thoughts intride
Tumultuous in my breaft;
Which indifpofe me for my food,
And rob me of my reft.

7 LORD I am fick, regard my cry,
And fet my spirit free:

Say, canft thou let a finner die,
Who longs to live to thee?

LXXXIV. Satan returning. Chap. xii. 43-45

WHE

THEN JESUS, claims the finner's heart,
Where Satan rul'd before;

The evil spirit must depart,

And dares return no more.

2 But when he goes without conftraint,
And wanders from his home
;
Altho' withdrawn, 'tis but a feint,
He means again to come.

3

Some outwards change perhaps is seen
If Satan quit the place;

But tho' the house seem swept and clean, 'Tis deftitute of grace.

4 Except the Saviour dwell and reign
Within the finner's mind;

Satan, when he returns again,
Will eafy entrance find.

5 With rage and malice sevenfold,
He then refumes his fway;

No more by checks to be controll'd,

No more to go away.

6 The finner's former ftate was bad,
But worse the latter far;

He lives poffefs'd, and blind, and mad,
And dy'd in dark despair.

7 LORD fave me from this dreadful end!
And from this heart of mine,

O drive and keep away the fiend
Who fears no voice but thine.

LXXXV. C. The fower. Chap. xiii. 3.

1YE fons of earth prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground!

The fower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter bleffings round.