PART IV. The BELIEVER'S LODGING and INN while on earth; OR, A Poem and Paraphrafe upon Pfalm lxxxiv. Ver. 1. How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! JEB EHOVAH, Father, Son, and Holy Ghoft, Sole Monarch of the universal hoft, Whom the attendant armies ftill revere, Which in bright robes furround the higher sphere; Whose fov'reign empire fways the hellish band Of ranked legions in th' infernal land; Who hold'ft the earth at thy unrivall❜d beck, And stay'ft proud forces with a humbling check; Ev'n thou whofe name commands an awful dread, Yet deigns to dwell with man in very deed; Ver. 2. My foul langeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Therefore on thee I centre my defire, Which veh❜mently burfts out in ardent fire. Deprived, ah! I languifh in my plaint, My bones are feeble, and my fpirits faint. My longing foul pants to behold again Thy temple fill'd with thy majeftic train; Those palaces with heav'nly odour ftrew'd, And regal courts, where Zion's King is view'd; To fee the beauty of the higheft One, Upon his holy mount, his lofty throne: Whence virtue running from the living Head Reftores the dying, and revives the dead. For him my heart with cries repeated founds, To which my flesh with echoes loud rebounds; For him, for him, who life in death can give. For him, for him, whofe fole prerogative Is from and to eternity to live., Ver. 3. Yea, the Sparrow bath found an houfe, and the fwallow a neft for herself, where he may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. Alas! how from thy lovely dwellings I, Long banifh'd, do the happy birds envy; Which, choofing thy high altars for their nest, On rafters of thy tabernacle rest! Here dwells the (parrow of a chirping tongue, That Sov'reign, at whose government they bow, Is wholly mine by his eternal vow; My King to rule my heart, and quell my foes, My God t' extract my well from prefent woes, And crown with endless glory at the close. Ver. 4. Bieffed are they that dwell in thy houfe : they will be fill praifing thee. O happy they that haunt thy house below, And to thy royal fanctuary flow: Not for itself, but for the glorious One, Ver. 5. Bleed is the man whofe ftrength is in thee: What weights of blifs their happy fhoulders load, Whose ftrength lies treasur'd in a potent God? Self-drained fouls, yet flowing to the brim, Because void in themselves, but full in him. Adam the first discuss'd their stock of strength, The fecond well retriev'd the fum at length; Who keeps 't himself a furer hand indeed, To give not as they lift, but as they need. When raging furies threaten fudden harms, Makes faints to own him worthy of their trust. Ver. 6. In whofe hearts are the ways of them, who paffing through the valley of Bacca, make it a well: the rain also filleth the pools. Such heav'n-born fouls are not to earth conTruth's high-way fills his elevated mind: [fin'd, They, bound for Zion, press with forward aim, As Ifr'el's males to old Jerufalem. Their holy path lies through a parched land, And weary fouls are heart'ned up the hill, Thus they, refreshed by fuperior aid, Are not defatigated nor difmay'd; Part IV. Their ftrength by intermitting gathers more. Before the Lamb's high throne adoring stand, Ver. 8. O Lord God of hafts, hear my prayer: give ear, O God of Jacob. Great God of num'rous hofts, who reigns alone This is the fubject of my tabled pray'r, |