The gospel the power of God to salvation.

Rom. 1:16.

What shall the dying sinner do
That seeks relief for all his woe?
Where shall the guilty conscience find
Ease for the torment of the mind?

How shall we get our crimes forgiv'n?
Or form our natures fit for heav'n?
Can souls all o'er defiled with sin
Make their own powers and passions clean?

In vain we search, in vain we try,
Till Jesus brings his gospel nigh;
'Tis there such power and glory dwell
As save rebellious souls from hell.

Condescending grace.

Psa. 138:6.

When the Eternal bows the skies
To visit earthly things,
With scorn divine he turns his eyes
From towers of haughty kings.

He bids his aweful chariot roll
Far downward from the skies,
To visit every humble soul
With pleasure in his eyes.

Why should the Lord that reigns above
Disdain so lofty kings?
Say, Lord, and why such looks of love
Upon such worthless things?

Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares
Dispute his aweful will?
Ask no account of his affairs,

A hopeful youth falling short of heaven.

Mark 10:21.

Must all the charms of nature, then,
So hopeless to salvation prove?
Can hell demand, can heav'n condemn,
The man whom Jesus deigns to love?

The man who sought the ways of truth,
Paid friends and neighbors all their due;
A modest, sober, lovely youth,
And thought he wanted nothing new.

But mark the change; thus spake the Lord-
"Come, part with earth for heav'n today:"
The youth, astonished at the word,
In silent sadness went his way.

God incomprehensible and sovereign.

[Can creatures to perfection find
Th' eternal, uncreated Mind?
Or can the largest stretch of thought
Measure and search his nature out?

'Tis high as heav'n, 'tis deep as hell
And what can mortals know or tell?
His glory spreads beyond the sky,
And all the shining worlds on high.

But man, vain man, would fain be wise;
Born like a wild young colt, he flies
Through all the follies of his mind,
And swells, and snuffs the empty wind.]

God is a King of power unknown,

The Divine Perfections.

Great God! thy glories shall employ
My holy fear, my humble joy;
My lips in songs of honor bring
Their tribute to th' eternal King.

[Earth, and the stars, and worlds unknown,
Depend precarious on his throne;
All nature hangs upon his word,
And grace and glory own their Lord.]

[His sovereign power what mortal knows?
If be command, who dares oppose?
With strength he girds himself around,
And treads the rebels to the ground.]

[Who shall pretend to teach him skill,

The end of the world.

Why should this earth delight us so?
Why should we fix our eyes
On these low grounds where sorrows grow,
And every pleasure dies ?

While time his sharpest teeth prepares
Our comforts to devour,
There is a land above the stars,
And joys above his power.

Nature shall be dissolved and die,
The sun must end his race,
The earth and sea for ever fly
Before my Savior's face.

When will that glorious morning rise?
When the last trumpet sound,
And call the nations to the skies,

Meditation of heaven; or, The joy of faith.

My thoughts surmount these lower skies,
And look within the veil;
There springs of endless pleasure rise,
The waters never fail.

There I behold, with sweet delight,
The blessed Three in One;
And strong affections fix my sight
On God's incarnate Son.

His promise stands for ever firm,
His grace shall ne'er depart;
He binds my name upon his arm,
And seals it on his heart.

Light are the pains that nature brings;
How short our sorrows are,

Custom in sin.

Let the wild leopards of the wood
Put off the spots that nature gives,
Then may the wicked turn to God,
And change their tempers and their lives.

As well might Ethiopian slaves
Wash out the darkness of their skin,
The deed as well might leave their graves,
As old transgressors cease to sin.

Where vice has held its empire long,
'Twill not endure the least control;
None but a power divinely strong
Can turn the current of the soul.

Great God! I own thy power divine

Few saved; or, The almost Christian, the hypocrite, and apostate.

Broad is the road that leads to death,
And thousands walk together there;
But wisdom shows a narrower path,
With here and there a traveller.

"Deny thyself, and take thy cross,"
Is the Redeemer's great command;
Nature must count her gold but dross,
If she would gain this heav'nly land.

The fearful soul that tires and faints,
And walks the ways of God no more,
Is but esteemed almost a saint,
And makes his own destruction sure.

Self-righteousness insufficient.

"Where are the mourners," saith the Lord,
"That wait and tremble at my word,
That walk in darkness all the day?
Come, make my name your trust and stay.

["No works nor duties of your own
Can for the smallest sin atone
The robes that nature may provide
Will not your least pollutions hide.

"The softest couch that nature knows
Can give the conscience no repose;
Look to my righteousness and live;
Comfort and peace are mine to give.]

"Ye sons of pride, that kindle coals