Ah! reign, wherever man is found! My spouse, beloved and divine! Then I am rich, and I abound, When every human heart is thine. A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

‘I love the Lord,’ is still the s… This heart delights to sing: But I reply—your thoughts are vai… Perhaps ’tis no such thing. Before the power of love divine

My soul is sad, and much dismay’d; See, Lord, what legions of my foe… With fierce Apollyon at their hea… My heavenly pilgrimage oppose. See, from the ever-burning lake,

‘Ere God had built the mountains, Or raised the fruitful hills; Before he fill’d the fountains That feed the running rills; In me from everlasting,

How bless’d Thy creature is, O G… When with a single eye, He views the lustre of Thy Word, The dayspring from on high! Through all the storms that veil t…

“Me too, perchance, in future days… The sculptured stone shall show, With Paphian myrtle or with bays Parnassian on my brow. But I, or e’er that season come,

’Tis not that I design to rob Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bo… For thou art born sole heir and si… Of dear Mat Prior’s easy jingle; Nor that I mean, while thus I kni…

Oh! to some distant scene, a willi… From the wild roar of this busy wo… Were it my fate with Delia to ret… With her to wander through the syl… Each morn, or o’er the moss-embrow…

Charles—and I say it wond’ring—th… That I who once assum’d a scornfu… And scoff’d at love, am fallen in… (Full many an upright man has fall… Yet think me not thus dazzled by t…

Enamour’d, artless, young, on fore… Uncertain whither from myself to f… To thee, dear Lady, with an humbl… Let me devote my heart, which I h… By certain proofs not few, intrepi…

Gracious Lord, our children see, By Thy mercy we are free; But shall these, alas! remain Subjects still of Satan’s reign? Israel’s young ones, when of old

Love! if thy destined sacrifice am… Come, slay thy victim, and prepare… Plunged in thy depths of mercy, le… The death which every soul that li… I watch my hours, and see them fle…

He lives who lives to God alone, And all are dead beside; For other source than God is none Whence life can be supplied. To live to God is to requite

Muse—hide his name of whom I sing… Lest his surviving house thou brin… For his sake into scorn, Nor speak the school from which he… The much or little that he knew,

To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; O bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to His throne! My Saviour, whom absent I love,