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1

The Gift.

If thou knowest the gift of God, &c.
Joh. 4.10.

1

This is the Gift, thy Gift oh Lord!
The token of thy dearest love:
The orient jewel of thy word;
Sent down my thankfulness to prove.

2

Great is his gift in all mens eyes,
Who gives himself, his Friend to save.
My Lord does more, for Foes he dies.
This Gift no parallel may have.

3

Great is the Gift, the Giver great;
Both justly to a wonder rise.
Thou giv'st thy Lamb to thine for meat:
And for their Sins a Sacrifice.

4

But Lord! whil'st thou thus giv'st to thine,
Others arose to vie with thee.
The World, and Satan did combine,
And they would needs a giving be.
2

5

Satan, sins pleasures offered,
And almost forc'd them upon me.
But while they bloom'd, they withered.
And Lord! thy Gift my choice shall be.

6

Then did the World its gayes present,
And still alluring cri'd, see, see;
Here's that may rather give content.
But Lord! thy Gift my choice shall be.

7

These cannot give, they'd steal away
From me my Heav'n, my heart from thee.
What e'r they offer, I'll say nay.
Still Lord! thy Gift my choice shall be.

[VVelcom sweet words; as 'tis most meet]

All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the Word of our God shall stand for ever, Isa. 40.6,8.

1

VVelcom sweet words; as 'tis most meet,
We will you in our bosomes hide.
Sweet words for present; but most sweet,
Because for ever you abide.
3

2

All flesh is as the fading grass,
The voice from Heav'n to Earth thus cri'd.
The whole Worlds glory away doth pass;
But Lord! thy words they still abide.

3

Man speaks, but all his words are wind;
They ebb, and flow with time, and tide:
Fit Emblems of his fickle mind.
But Lord! thy words they still abide.

4

Our selves sometimes stand promising
Great things, while we by thee are tri'd.
Our blossoms fall, no fruit they bring.
But Lord thy words they still abide.

5

Bless'd words, Dear Lord; no words like thine;
In darkness, light through them is spi'd.
Till death, and after death they shine;
Then Lord! even then thy words abide.

6

These words the Lamb's sweet writings be
Of love, and dowry to his Bride.
Here may his Saints their portions see,
Portions which ever shall abide.

7

Welcome sweet words! sweet words indeed;
Heaven's Agent here, to Heav'n our Guide.
What e'r is needless, these we need.
Lord let these words with us abide.
4

Upon the Fifth of November.

The Archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him. But his Bow abode in strength, Gen. 49.23,24.

1

The day allows thy praises Lord!
Our grateful hearts to thee shall sing;
Our thankful lips they shall record
Thine ancient loves Eternal King!

2

Our Land shall boast, the holy One
My great preserver is become:
My Friend, my Foes hath overthrown,
And made the pit they digg'd their toome.

3

With Parthian bows the Archers came,
Romes poisonous oyl on the Arrows shone;
Thy Turtle was the Archers aime.
Shoot, shoot, saies Satan, all's our owne.

4

Fond foolish Rome, how dar'st oppose
Whom God in his safe bosome laies?
Thy malice may it self disclose;
But frustrate still shall turn to praise.
5

5

The Crozier staff, thy Triple Crown,
Those ensigns of deceit, and pride,
Thy Purple Robe, thy blaz'd Renown
The dust shall ever, ever hide.

6

Thy Merchants shall thy fall lament;
Thy Lovers all in sackcloath mourn:
While Heav'n, and Earth in one consent
Shall sing Amen, let Babylon burn.

7

Then Lord! thy Spouse whose dropping eyes,
Whose sighs, whose sufferings prove her thine;
Shall from her pensive sorrows rise,
And as the Lamb's fair Bride shall shine.

8

Sweet day! sweet day when shall it be?
Why staies my Lord? Dear Saviour come.
Thy mourning Spouse cries after thee,
Stay with me here, or take me home.
6

[Thus died the Prince of life, thus he]

He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed, Isa. 53.5.

1

Thus died the Prince of life, thus he
That could not die, even died for me.
My thoughtful heart, Lord! shall arise,
And ponder these deep mysteries.

2

What means his death, who knew no sin?
Or what my life, who live therein?
Mine was the debt, and death my due,
Though thou wast pleas'd thy Son to sue.

3

Thou Lord! wast pleas'd on him to lay
The debt, and he the price to pay.
Thy Gospell feasts, though sweet to me,
Are th' Emblems of his Agony.

4

And oh! how great his sufferings were;
Who th' wrath of God, and man did bear.
The Father then forsakes the Son;
And Creatures 'gainst their Maker run.
7

5

Judas betraies, Disciples flee;
Whil'st Jews, and Romans crucifie.
Hereat the Sun furls up his light,
And cloaths the Earth in sable night.

6

The joyless Stars even seem'd to say,
Israel had quench'd the Lamp of day.
The stubbourn Mountains they lament,
The Rocks they are asunder rent,

7

The Graves their sealed doors unclose,
The Dead awakened also rose.
Th' amaz'd Centurion mourning cries,
Oh! 'tis the Son of God, that dies.

8

Thus these all labour to confess
Thy Deity, thy righteousness.
Enough dear Lord! these offer me
Supports for th' utmost faith in thee.
8

[My Song is love unknown]

God forbid that I should glory save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, Gal. 6.14.

1

My Song is love unknown;
My Saviours love to me.
Love to the loveless shown,
That they might lovely be.
Oh who am I,
That for my sake
My Lord should take
Frail flesh, and die.

2

He came from his bless'd Throne,
Salvation to bestow:
But men made strange, and none
The long'd-for Christ would know.
But oh! my Friend;
My Friend indeed,
Who at my need
His life did spend.
9

3

Sometimes they strow his way,
And his sweet praises sing;
Resounding all the day,
Hosannah's to their King.
Then Crucifie
Is all their breath,
And for his death
They thirst, and crie.

4

Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage, and spite?
He made the Lame to run,
He gave the Blind their sight.
Sweet injuries!
Yet they at these
Themselves displease,
And 'gainst him rise.

5

They rise, and needs will have
My dear Lord made away,
A Murderer they save:
The Prince of life they slay.
Yet cheerful he
To suff'ring goes,
That he his Foes
From thence might free.
10

6

In life no house, no home,
My Lord on earth might have:
In death no friendly tombe,
But what a Stranger gave.
What may I say?
Heav'n was his home;
But mine the tombe
Wherein he lay.

7

Here might I stay, and sing;
No story so divine.
Never was love, dear King!
Never was grief like thine.
This is my Friend,
In whose sweet praise
I all my daies
Could gladly spend.
11

The Pilgrims Farewel to the World.

For we have here no continuing City, but we seek one to come, Heb. 13.14.

1

Farewel poor World! I must be gone,
Thou art no home, no rest for me:
I'll take my staff, and travel on,
Till I a better World may see.

2

Why art thou loth my heart! oh! why
Do'st thus recoil within my breast?
Grieve not, but say farewel, and fly
Unto the Arke, my Dove! there's rest.

3

I come, my Lord! a Pilgrims pace,
Weary, and weak, I slowly move;
Longing, but can't yet reach the place,
The gladsom place of rest above.

4

I come, my Lord! the flouds here rise,
These troubled Seas foam nought but mire:
My Dove back to my bosom Flies.
Farewel, poor World! Heav'n's my desire.
12

5

Stay, stay, said Earth, whither fond one?
Here's a fair World, what wouldst thou have?
Fair World? oh! no; thy beautie's gone,
An heav'nly Canaan Lord! I crave.

6

Thus th' ancient Travellers, thus they
Weary of Earth, sigh'd after thee.
They are gone before; I may not stay,
Till I both thee, and them may see.

7

Put on my Soul! put on with speed;
Though th' way be long, the end is sweet.
Once more, poor World! Farewel indeed;
In leaving thee, my Lord I meet.

Christs future coming to Judgment, the Christians present Meditation.

Behold he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him, Rev. 1.7.

1

Behold! he comes, comes from on high;
Like lightning through the flaming skie.
The Saint's desire, the Sinner's fear,
Behold! that solemn day draws near.
13

2

He comes, who unto Judgment shall
All flesh to his Tribunal call.
Me thinks I see the burnish'd Throne
Whereon my Saviour sits alone.

3

Me thinks I see at his right hand
His smiling Saints in triumph stand.
Me thinks I hear condemned ones
Howling their never-dying groans.

4

Me thinks I see even Time expire,
The Heav'ns, and Earth on flaming fire.
Think not, my Soul! thy self to hide;
Thou canst not 'scape, but shalt be tri'd.

5

Loe! here the Book whence Justice reads
Sentence on Sinners sinful deeds.
Loe! here the Mercy Psalm, wherein
My Judge speaks pardon to my sin.

6

I tremble Lord! yet must I say,
This is my long'd-for wedding day.
My Bridegroom is my Soveraign Lord,
My Joynture drawn in his fair Word.
14

7

My Mansion built by him on High;
Where I may rest eternally.
Then come, my Lord! dear Saviour! come,
And when thou pleasest take me home.
Amen. Even so come Lord Jesus! come quickly.

The Resurrection.

Though after my skin worms destroy this body: yet in my flesh shall I see God, Job 19.26.

1

My Life's a shade, my daies
Apace to death decline:
My Lord is life, he'l raise
My dust again, even mine.
Sweet truth to me!
I shall arise,
And with these eyes
My Saviour see.
15

2

My peaceful grave shall keep
My bones till that sweet day,
I wake from my long sleep,
And leave my bed of Clay.
Sweet truth to me!
I shall arise,
And with these eyes
My Saviour see.

3

My Lord his Angels shall
Their Golden Trumpets sound;
At whose most welcome call
My grave shall be unbound.
Sweet truth to me! &c.

4

I said sometimes with tears,
Ah me! I'm loth to die.
Lord! silence thou those fears;
My life's with thee on high.
Sweet truth to me! &c.

5

What means my trembling heart
To be thus shie of death?
My life, and I sha'nt part,
Though I resign my breath.
Sweet truth to me! &c.
16

6

Then welcome harmless grave;
By thee to Heaven I'll go;
My Lord his Death shall save
Me from the flames below.
Sweet truth to me!
I shall arise,
And with these eyes
My Saviour see.

Heaven.

When shall I come, and appear before God? Psalm 42.2.

First Part.

1

Sweet place! sweet place alone!
The Court of God Most High,
The Heav'n of Heav'ns, the Throne
Of spotless Majesty!
Oh happy place!
When shall I be
My God! with thee
To see thy face?
17

2

The stranger homeward bends,
And sigheth for his rest:
Heav'n is my home, my Friends
Lodge there in Abrahams breast.
Oh happy place!
When shall I be,
My God! with thee
To see thy face?

3

Earth's but a sorry Tent,
Pitch'd for a few frail daies;
A short-leas'd Tenement.
Heav'n's still my song, my praise.
Oh happy place! &c.

4

These lower rooms, these here
Thou dost with Roses pave,
And circl'st with Chrystal clear:
But Heav'n, oh! Heav'n I crave.
Oh happy place! &c.

5

No tears from any eyes
Drop in that holy Quire:
But death it self there dies,
And sighs themselves expire.
Oh happy place! &c.
18

6

There should temptations cease,
My frailties there should end;
There should I rest in peace
In th' arms of my best Friend.
Oh happy place!
When shall I be,
My God! with thee
To see thy face?

Second Part.

1

Jerusalem on high
My Song, and City is:
My home when ere I die,
The Center of my bliss.
Oh happy place! &c.

2

Thy Walls sweet City! thine
With Pearls are garnished;
Thy Gates with praises shine;
Thy Streets with Gold are spred.
Oh happy place! &c.

3

No Sun by day shines there;
Nor Moon by silent night.
Oh! no; these needless are;
The Lamb's the Cities light.
Oh happy place! &c.
19

4

There dwels my Lord, my King,
Judg'd here unfit to live.
There Angels to him sing,
And lowly homage give.
Oh happy place!
When shall I be,
My God! with thee
To see thy face?

5

The Patriarchs of old
There from their travels cease:
The Prophets there behold
Their long'd-for Prince of peace.
Oh happy place! &c.

6

The Lamb's Apostles there
I might with joy behold:
The Harpers I might hear
Harping on Harps of Gold.
Oh happy place! &c.

7

The bleeding Martyrs they
Within those Courts are found;
Cloathed in pure array,
Their scars with glory crown'd.
Oh happy place! &c.
20

8

Ah me! ah me! that I
In Kedars Tents here stay!
No place like this on high;
Thither, Lord! guide my way.
Oh happy place!
When shall I be,
My God! with thee
To see thy face?
FINIS.
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