English

CHAPTER II.

God who on Sinai's top came down
The law of fear to' engrave in stone,
Returns all-gracious from above
To teach mankind the law of love,
And by His Spirit's power imparts
And writes it on His people's hearts.

J EHOVAH doth the heavens bow,
The Lord is in the whirlwind now!
His terror first alarms, and wakes,
With sudden dread the conscience shakes,
That sinners may His mercy prove,
And lose their fears in pardoning love.

CHAPTER I.

The actions of the sent
We here recorded see,
Of every chosen instrument
Raised up, O Lord, by Thee:
In ours and every age
Who dost Thy work revive,
Thou show'st in this prophetic page
How real Christians live.

The progress of Thy word
Throughout the nations spread,

CHAPTER XXI.

The Saviour doth in various ways
Himself to His disciples show;
He meets us, when we seek His face,
Assembled in His courts below:
He oft prevents our care and thought,
And while in common works employ'd,
Comes to us unforeseen, unsought,
And shows our hearts the living God.

A FISHER of men Will others invite,
Each sinew to strain By day and by night,

CHAPTER XIX

The Man of griefs by all despised,
Loaded with pain and infamy,
Like a rebellious slave chastised,
We mourn, but wonder not to see:
He stands in the first Adam's place
Beneath our penalties and pains,
Of all our disobedient race
The sin and chastisement sustains.

E NROBED and crown'd in mockery
Thou dost for Adam's sin atone,
Who fain would independent be,

CHAPTER XVII.

Himself with lifted hands and eyes,
The great vicarious Sacrifice
He offers up for all our race,
Our faithful merciful High-Priest
To God presenting His request,
For every child of Adam prays.

First for the twelve He intercedes,
And then for all believers pleads,
And then for all the ransom'd kind,
That seeing how the Christians live,
The world may faithfully receive

Calmer of the troubled heart,
Bid my unbelief depart,
Speak, and all my sorrows cease,
Speak, and all my soul is peace;
Comfort me, whene'er I mourn,
With the hope of Thy return,
And till I Thy glory see,
Bid me still believe in Thee.

Can we mourn as broken hearted,
We who hang upon Thy love,
Jesus for our sake departed
To Thy Father's house above?
Source of all our consolations,
There we our Forerunner see:

His Epitaph.

A S ke you, why so many a teare
Bursts forth: I'lle tell you in your eare:
Compell me not to speake aloud,
Death would then be too too proud,
Eyes that cannot vye a teare,
Forbeare to aske, you may not heare;
Gentle hearts that overflow,
Have onely priviledge to know:
In these sacred Ashes, then,
Know (Reader) that a man of men
Lyes covered: Fame and lasting glory
Make deare mention of his story:
Nature when she gave him birth,
Op'd her treasure to the earth:

Ye ares, fully-laden with their months, attend
Th' expired time's acquitance, and so end:
Months, gone their dates of numbred dayes, require
Bright Cynthia's full discharge, and so expire;
Dayes deeply ag'd with howers, lose their light,
And having runne their Stage, conclude with night:
And howers, chac'd with light-foot minutes, flie,
Tendring their labour to a new supply;
Yet Ailmer's glory never shall diminish,
Though years and months, though dayes and howers finish:
Yet Ailmer's joyes for ever shall extend,

Wo uldst thou, when death had done, deserve a story
Should stain the memory of great Pompeye's glory?
Conquer thy selfe; example be thy guide;
Die just, as our selfe-conquering Ailmer dy'd.
Wouldst thou subdue more kingdoms, gain more crowns
Than that brave Hero Caesar conquer'd townes?
Then conquer death; Example be thy guide,
Die just, as our death-conquering Ailmer dy'd:
But wouldst thou win moro worlds than he had done
Kingdomes, that all the carth had over-runne?
Then conquer heaven; Example be thy guide;

So may the faire aspect of pleased heaven
Conforme my noone of dayes, and crown their even;
So may the gladder smileSof earth present
My fortunes with the height of joye's content;
As I lament with unaffected breath,
Our losse (deare Ailmer ) in thy happy death:
May the false teare, that's forc'd, or slides by Art
That hath no warrant from the soule, the heart.
Or that exceeds not nature's faint commission,
Or dares (unvented) come to composition;
O, may that teare in stricter judgement rise