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Doddridge 479

Sacrament, The

Saints in Glory

Rest

Sanctuary, Vows paid in the

Save, Lord, or we perish'

Saviour, Christ a complete
Second coming of the
Trust in the

Saul the Persecutor

Self-Dedication, Renewal of
Self-Denial

Sennacherib, Destruction of

Servant of Christ

Seymour, Elegy on Lady C.

Shepherd, The Lord is my

Sinner's portion and Saint's hope
Solitude

Song, The Captives'

Song, Covenanter's Scaffold

Sonnet composed on Westminster Bridge

Soul, The Saviour to the

Spirit, Promise of the Holy

Spirit's Ministerings

Spirit, The happy

Spring

Star of Bethlehem

Storm, The

Sunday Morning

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Sweetbriar, Ode to a, in india

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Anon. 435
Anon, 431
Watts 413
Heber 423

Doddridge 425
Milman 132
Grant 214

Thomas Roscoe 392
Doddridge 480
Baxter 35
Byron 177
Doddridge 456
Opie 189
Anon. 409
Watts 411
Bloomfield 370
Neile 175
Hogg 341

Wordsworth 343

Bowdler 241

Anon. 422
Anon. 136

Stebbing 80
Heber 361

Kirke White 313
Dodsley 295
Mant 170
Lawson 379

Caunter 243
Barton 125
Logan 43
Campbell 159
Smedley 303
Howitt 58
Bowles 345
Wesley 458
Milman 248

Baxter 232

Clare 355

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SACRED POETRY.

HYMN.

[KIRKE WHITE.]

AWAKE, sweet harp of Judah, wake,
Retune thy strings for Jesu's sake;
We sing the Saviour of our race,
The Lamb, our shield, and hiding-place.

When God's right arm is bared for war,
The thunders clothe his cloudy car.
Where, where, oh where, shall man retire,
To 'scape the horrors of his ire?

"Tis He, the Lamb, to him we fly,
While the dread tempest passes by;
God sees his well-beloved's face,
And spares us in his hiding-place.

Thus, while we dwell in this low scene,
The Lamb is our unfailing screen;
To him, though guilty, still we run,
And God still spares us for his Son.

While yet we sojourn here below,
Pollutions still our hearts o'erflow;
Fallen, abject, mean, a sentenced race,
We deeply need a hiding-place.

B

Yet courage-days and years will glide,
And we shall lay these clods aside;
Shall be baptized in Jordan's flood,
And wash'd in Jesu's cleansing blood.

Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed,
We through the Lamb shall be decreed;
Shall meet the Father face to face,
And need no more a hiding place.

FROM

"RELIGIOUS MUSINGS."

BY COLERIDGE.

BLEST are they,

Who in this fleshly world, the elect of Heaven,
Their strong eye darting thro' the deeds of men,
Adore with stedfast unpresuming gaze
Him, Nature's Essence, Mind, and Energy!
And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend,
Treading beneath their feet all visible things,
As steps, that upward to their Father's throne
Lead gradual-else nor glorified nor lov'd.
They nor contempt embosom nor revenge:
For they dare know of what may seem deform,
The Supreme Fair, sole Operant; in whose sight
All things are pure, his strong controlling love
A like from all educing perfect good.

Their's too celestial courage, inly arm'd,
Dwarfing Earth's giant brood, what time they muse
On their great Father, great beyond compare!
And marching onwards view high o'er their heads
His waving banners of omnipotence.

They cannot dread created might, who love
God, the Creator!-fair and lofty thought!
It lifts and swells my heart! And as I muse,
Behold! a vision gathers in my soul,
Voices and shadowy shapes, in human guise.
I seem to see the phantom, near, pass by,
Hotly-pursued, and pale! From rock to rock
He bounds with bleeding feet, and thro' the swamp,
The quicksand, and the groaning wilderness,
Struggles with feebler and yet feebler flight.
But lo! an altar in the wilderness,

3

And eagerly yet feebly, lo! he grasps
The altar of the living God! and there,
With wan reverted face, the trembling wretch
All wildly list'ning to his hunter fiends,
Stands, till the last faint echo of their yell
Dies in the distance. Soon refresh'd from Heaven
He calms the throb and tempest of his heart.
His countenance settles: a soft solemn bliss
Swims in his eyes: his swimming eyes uprais'd,
And Faith's whole armour girds his limbs! And thus,
Transfigur'd, with a meek and dreadless awe,

A solemn hush of spirit, he beholds

All things of terrible seeming: yea, unmov'd
Views e'en the immitigable ministers,

That shower down vengeance on these latter days.

For even these on wings of healing come,

Yea, kindling with intenser Deity;

From the celestial mercy-seat they speed,

And at the renovating wells of love,

Have fill'd their vials with salutary wrath;

To sickly Nature more medicinal,

Than what sweet balm the weeping good man pours
Into the lone, despoiled, trav'ller's wounds!

Thus, from th' Elect, regenerate thro' faith,
Pass the dark passions, and what thirsty cares

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