thou didst put a Mind in me Could I find where it lies Lord clear thy Gift that I may look T'wards Thee with constant Wit Look for to Love Thee who can be Yea Lord what Angel fit Man's Medley To the Tune of Psalm 113. HEark how the chirping Birds do sing And how the ccch'ing Woods do ring Birds have their Joys and Man hath his Yet if we judge and rightly measure Mans real Joy and solid Pleasure Hereafter more than present is Not that He may not sometimes here Tast of that Joy and pleasant cheer But as Birds drinking lift their Heads So must He sip and tasting think Of that new Wine that better drink Which He shall have when He is Dead 2. But as his Pleasures then are double So are his Cares and Grief and Trouble He hath two Winters to their one Both Frosts and Thoughts do sometimes Nip As well his Conscience as his Lip 'T is Man that fears two Deaths alone Yet after all the greatest Griefs May be turn'd into his Reliefs Could He but take them in their Ways Happy is He whose well-tun'd Heart Can by a new and heav'nly Art Turn double Pains to double Praise Gratefulness THou that hast giv'n so much to me Give more a thankful Heart See how thy Beggar works on thee By an allowed Art He makes thy Gifts occasion more If He in this be crost All thou hast giv'n him heretofore Is giv'n in vain and lost But thou didst reckon when at first Thy Word our Hearts did crave What it would come to at the worst Such wretched Souls to save Perpetual knocking 's at thy Door Tears sullying thy Rooms Gift upon Gift much would have more And in this way it comes This notwithstanding thou went'st on And didst allow our Noise Nay thou hast made a Sigh and Groan Thy Pleasure and thy Joys Not that thou hast not Tunes above Better than groans can make But that these Country-Airs thy Love Is pleas'd to like and take Wherefore I cry and cry again Thou at no rest canst be Till I a thankful Heart obtain Which I may use for Thee Not thankful for a fit as if Thy Blessings had spare Days But such a Heart whose Pulse may beat Continually thy Praise Praise O King of Glory King of Peace I will Thee chiefly Love And that my Love may never cease I will Thee daily move For thou hast granted my request Thou hast me freely heard And thou dost Note my working Breast Thou hast me gently spar'd And therefore with my utmost Art I will thy Glory sing The very Cream of all my Heart I will a Present bring And though my Sins against me cry'd Thou didst me fully clear And when in Terrours they reply'd Thou didst my Prayers hear Then sev'n whole Days not one in sev'n I will thy Honour Praise And in my Heart though not in Heav'n I will thy Glory raise When I grew Soft and Moist with Tears Thou also didst relent And when thy Justice call'd for Fears Thou didst in Grace dissent Now small it is in this Poor sort Thy Name for to enrol Eternity itself 's too short Thy Praise for to extol Longing To the Tune of Psalm 67. WIth sick and famisht Eyes Doubling Knees weary Bones To Thee my Sighs and Tears ascend To Thee my Cries and Groans My Tâ—roat my Soul is hoarse Heart wither'd like a Ground Which â—hou didst Curse My Thoughts make me Giddy by turning round Bowels of Pity Hear Thou true Love of my Mind Let not my Words and thy Name there Be scatter'd by the Wind. Look on my Sorrows Mark My Furnace O what Flame What heat doth in my Heart abide What Grief there is What Shame Lord Iesus thou didst bow The Head upon the Tree Shall He that made the Ear not hear O be not Deaf to me Behold thy Dust doth stir It creeps it aims at Thee And every Crumb therein saith Come Wilt thou not succour me Thou tarriest while I fall To nothing Thou dost Reign And rule on high while I thy Child In bitter Grief remain Lord Jesus Hear my Heart That hath been broke so long Thy Beggars grow and every Part Of it hath got a Tongue My Love my sweetness Hear As thy Feet lies my Heart Oh heal my troubled Breast which cries And dies Pluck out thy Dart. The Call To the Tune of Psalm 100. O Come my VVay my Truth my Life Thou' rt such a Way as gives us breath And such a Truth as Ends all strife And such a Life as killeth Death O come my Light my Feast my Strength Ev'n such a Light as shews a Feast And such a Feast as mends in length And such a Strength as makes his Guest O come my Joy my Love my Heart Ev'n such a Ioy as none can move And such a Love as none can Part And such a Heart as Joys in Love The Search WHether O whether art thou fled My gracious Lord my Love My Searches are my daily Bread Yet don't successful prove My Knees pierce th' Earth mine Eyes the sky And yet the higher Sphere And lower Centre both deny To me that thou art there Yet can I mark how Herbs below Are Fresh grow Green and Gay As if to meet Thee they did know Whilst I Dye and Decay Yet can I mark how Stars above Simper as 't were and shine As having Keys unto thy Love Whilst I grow Pale and Pine I sent a Sigh to seek Thee out Drawn from my Breast in Pain Wing'd like an Arrow but my Scout Alas return'd in Vain I turn'd another having store Into a deeper groan Because the search was Dumb before But ah me all was one Where is my God What hidden Place Conceals Thee from me still What Covert dares Eclipse thy Face My God is it thy Will O let not that of any thing Be it let rather Brass Or Steel or Mountains be thy Ring And I through them will pass Thy Will such an intrenching is As passeth humane Thought To it all Strength all subtilties Are but as things of Nought O take these Bars these lengths away Turn again and restore me Be not Almighty shall I say Against me Lord but for me When thou dost turn and wilt be near What Edge is there so keen What Point so piercing can appear As once to come between For as thy absence doth excel All other distance known So doth thy nearness bear the Bell Making of two but one Grief OH who will give me Tears come dwell VVithin my Eyes ye Springs Come Clouds and Rain my Grief hath need Of all the VVatry things Each Vein suck up a River to Supply these weary Eyes My Eyes too dry unless they get New Conduits new Supplies VVhat can Man do that little VVorld VVith his two little Spouts The greater VVorld cannot provide For all my Griefs and Doubts Verses too fine for my rough Griefs Must here be Dumb and Mute Their running suits my Eyes but measure Suits best some
regard He from on high view'd the sad State Which David's House prest hard But now all Nations shall the Church Call above others Blest David's Seed b'ing of David's Throne Eternally possest 3. Great are the Works that He hath done Who himself is great of Might But of all Names 'T is Holiness That does him most Delight All Names but that of Mercy which In him is still the same He does to Generations keep With them who fear his Name 4. To all besides by 's Arm He 's known His Strength none can repel His Arm alone the proud pulls down Spoils Plots laid deep as Hell He Kingdoms sways and gives the Crowns To those i' th' Dust who lay With good things He the hungry fills Sends Rich empty away 5. Isr'el thus hath He fill'd thus rais'd Thus rais'd He doth uphold B'ing mindful of his Name be prais'd His Cov'nant past of old According to his Promise made To Abr'ham and his Seed Ev'n all whom Abr'hams Faith doth make Parties unto the Deed. The Song of Zacharias To the Tune of Psalm 100. ISrael's great God be ever prais'd Who Isr'el from the Dust hath rais'd He 's mindful of his ancient Care Forgotten when we thought we were Isr'el to visit He came down The Prison Doors wide open thrown Redemption for us He hath wrought And to the Throne the Captive brought To David's Throne and 't is his Son Sprung from his Loyns holds David's Throne With Empire which no time can bound With Subjects in all Countreys found By Prophets which have been of old In ev'ry Age He this foretold For ev'ry Age have Prophets been E're since the World did first begin This to foretel that God our State Would save and our wrongs vindicate Not for our sakes but to perform The Mercy promised and Sworn Promis'd the Fathers who first were But which He did to Abr'ham swear By sacred Oath to be no more Doubted though stablish't 't was before God the most High by Himself swore That we from Heav'n should have the Power His noble Service to attend Fearless of all that may offend Deliver'd from our En'mies Hands Their captive Chains and servile Bands In Righteousness and Holy Praise Which constant last through all our Days And now He comes who this hath wrought Who hath this great Salvation brought And now His Prophet shall prepare His Ways which deep and wondrous are To teach and make his Isr'el know Whence their Salvation's source doth flow That from Remission of their Sin The mighty source doth first begin Through tender Mercy He the way To Pardon does by Grace display That Grace whereby Day-spring on high Visits with Streams which ne're shall dye Streams of a pure Aether'al Light T'shine on those who in Darkness sit Death's shadow shall with Rays increase To guide our Feet i' th' ways of Peace The Song of Simeon 1. ENough my God I beg no more Thou canst no more bestow My Pray'rs are answer'd I adore The Word which forth did go The Word which like Thee knows no change I am content to Dye The Time is sittest now Lord since Thy Word and Life 's so nigh 2. Nigh is the Word nor hath Death come Me and thy Christ between As nigh is Life thy other Word Thus happy have I been Two Words fulfill'd one t'other seen Makes me desire to dye Who would not mortal Life exchange For Immortality 3. In Peace my God I dye and Thou In Peace dismissest me Since with these Eyes before their Change I thy Salvation see I need not rise to see as they Who by Faith only saw What I within my Arms do hold The end of all their Law 4. Hail blest Salvation Hail thou Who bring'st it Blessed Child In whom as Holy Men foretold All Truths shall be fulfill'd Hail Saviour and Salvation Prepar'd of God to be This lower World's Redemption And th' Angels scrutiny 5. Such is thy Cov'nant who before All Nations dost prepare What shall with Praise all Nations fill As in Him all have share He as a Sun to a dark World Shall rise with scatter'd Light But Isr'els Glory shall with Rays Be like his own Flames Bright Adoration of the Twenty Four Elders Rev. 11.17 To the Tune of Psalm 100. THou' rt worthy Honour to receive Honour'd are we who Honour give Thou in one now collected hast All Time the Future Present Past. We Praise Thee Lord for that thou 'st ta'ne To Thee thy Power and dost Reign Thy Wrath is come and so the Time When thou wilt Sentence ev'ry Crime And hence the Nations troubled are The Dead must for their Judge prepare They rise and as their Works have been Glory or Shame 's on all brows seen Saints Prophets all that fear thy Name Both small and great shall Praise the same But Vengeance stops the Sinners Mirth And Spoils the Spoilers of the Earth The Song of Moses and the Lamb. Rev. 15.13 To the Tune of Psalm 148. HOw mighty are thy Works And marvellous thy Praise Lord God Almighty Just And True are all thy Ways Blest King of Saints Who would nor fear Thy Presence dread Which Thrones revere Who would not fear Thee Lord Who would not glorifie That wondrous Name of thine Which thou hast rais'd so high Thy Holy Name By which thou' rt known For Holiness Is thine alone Take then thou blessed King What is thy proper due And through all Coasts and Lands Thy proper right pursue That ev'ry Coast And every Land May worship Thee And wondring stand Ioy at the overthrow of Babylon Rev. 9.1 To the Tune of Psalm 100. SIng Hallelujah to our King Honour and Pow'r and Glory sing For true and righteous are his Ways He both deserves and hath our Praise Most true and righteous is his Doom Who hath in Judgment overcome The Whore stands chain'd and dumb withal Without a Friend or Voice to call For judg'd she is who th' Earth did stain With a vile prostituted Train He hath aveng'd the Blood she shed She dying ever is never Dead Sing 〈◊〉 to our King Worship and Laud and Praises bring Behold how up her smoak does rise Who dying ever never dyes Ev'n so Amen Lord be it so That all the Earth thy Power may know That all one Song with us may Sing Ev'n Hallelujah to our King Baptismal Covenant Mostly out of the Book of Psalms Exod. 15.2 THou art my God I will prepare For Thee a dwelling Place Thou art my Fathers God and I Will Praise thy wondrous Grace Psal. 22.4 Thou art my Fathers God and they Trusting in Thee were glad For all thy saving Health whilst I As yet no being had Gen. 17.7 Deut. 17.9 God of my Fathers and their Seed For so thy Cov'nant is And thou dost keep thy Cov'nant fare To thousands of Degrees Exod. 21.6 When at the Door the Ear was bor'd The Servant leaves it never He is a Servant in that House He and his Seed for ever Psalm 86.16 and 116.16 Now
Lovers Lute His narrow Grief will him allow The softer-strain and Rhyme My harsher Sorrows do exclude Both Measure Tune and Time Self-Condemnation To the Tune of Psal. 113. THou who condemnest Jewish Hate For chusing of a Murderer Before a Saviour Lord of Glory Look back upon thy own Estate Call home thine Eye that wanderer That thine own Choice may be thy Story He that doth Love and Love amiss This VVorld before true Christian Joy How doth He make a Jewish Choice The VVorld an ancient Murderer is Thousands it hath and doth destroy VVith her enchanting Looks and Voice 2. He that hath made a sorry VVedding Between his Soul and Gold preferr'd False Gain and Riches before true Hath done what He condemns in Reading Hath Sold for Money His Dear Lord And is Himself a Iudas-Iew Thus we prevent the last great Day And judge our selves that Light which Passion And Sin before did Dim and Choak VVhen once these Snuffs are ta'ne away Shines bright ev'n unto Condemnation And that without Excuse or Cloak Bitter-Sweet To the Tune of Psalm 67. AH my Dear angry Lord Since thou dost Love yet strike Thou dost cast down yet help afford Sure I will do the like I will complain yet Praise Bewail and yet approve And all my other sowre-sweet Days I will lament yet Love The Glance To the Tune of Psalm 100. WHen first thy sweet and gracious Eye Vouchsaf'd in midst of Youth and Night To look on me who lay before In Sin I felt a strange delight Since that Time many a bitter Storm I 've felt which would have quite destroy'd My Soul had the malicious Harm His sway and swing fully enjoy'd But the first Joy sprung from thine Eye Did still so work within my Soul That after all it got the Day And did the surging Griefs controul If the first Glance so powerful be Mirth open'd and seal'd up again VVhat wonders shall we feel at last VVhen thou shalt look us out of Pain VVhen we shall see thy full ey'd Love And that one Heav'nly glorious Light More than a thousand Suns above Shall be disbursing joyful Light Aaron To the Tune of Psalm 100. HOliness written on the Head Light and Perfections on the Breast Harmonious Bells raising the Dead To Life Thus are true Aarons drest But oh prophaneness in my Head Defects and darkness in my Breast A noise of Passions like a Knell Ala poor Priest thus am I drest And yet I have another Head Christ is my only Heart and Breast He is my Musick causing Life In him alone I am well drest Now again Holy in my Head Perfect and Light in Heart and Breast My Doctrine tun'd by Christ who lives In me Come People Aaron's drest Discipline To the Tune of Psalm 67. O Throw away thy Rod And throw away thy Wrath Thou art my Saviour and my God O take the gentle Path. Thou seest my Hearts desire Unto thy Will is bent To nothing I do more aspire Than to a full Consent There 's not a Word or Look That I affect to own But what I have or learn by Book And that thy Book alone And though I fail I weep And though I halt in Pace Yet still I go or rather creep Unto the Throne of Grace Then let thy Wrath remove And Love will do the Deed For with thy Blood and with thy Love These stony Hearts will bleed Thy Love is swift of Foot Thy Love 's a Man of War That is victorious and can shoot And hit our Hearts from far And who can scape this Bow For that which wrought on Thee That brought thee down and made thee low Needs must it work on me O throw away thy Rod And though Man frailties hath Yet we are Creatures thou art God O throw away thy Wrath. The Invitation To the Tune of Psalm 100. COme hither all whose Heart and Taste Savours this Earth Here mend your fare God hath prepar'd and is a Feast In whom alone all dainties are Come hither you whom Love of Wine Hath made you Drink for hurt not good Now weep what you have drunk amiss And cat his Flesh and drink his Blood Come hither all whom Fear and Pain Arraigns and brings your Sins to sight Taste and fear not for God is here Who will on Sin return the fright Come hither all whom Joy destroys And makes you graze without your bounds Here is a Joy that drowns all Joys As doth a Flond the lower grounds Come hither all whom Love exalts And lifts you up unto the sky Here is Love breathing ev'n in Death Which after Death can never Dye Thus Lord I have invited all And still I will invite to Thee For it doth seem but Just and Right That where all is there all should be Desertion To the Tune of Psalm 67. SOul's Joy when thou art gone Which yet sure cannot be Because thou dost abide in me And I depend on Thee Yet when thou dost suppress The Joy of thy abode And in my Power not stir abroad But leave me to my Load Oh what a Damp doth seize My Soul no stormy Night Can so afflict or so affright As thy eclipsed Light Ah Lord do not withdraw Thy Love lest Sin appear And when thou dost but shine less clear Say that thou art not here And then what Life I have When Sin doth rave and boast That I may seek but thou art lost Thou and alone thou know'st Oh what a deadly Cold Doth make me half believe That Sin saith true but while I grieve Thou com'st and dost relieve Death To the Tune of Psalm 100. DEath thou wast once an uncouth thing Hid'ous and nothing else but Bones Mouth open but thou couldst not sing The sad Effects of sadder Groans For we were wont to look on Thee As at some nine or ten Years hence Flesh turn'd to Dust and Bones to sticks After the loss of Life and Sence On this side of Thee we did look We shot too short whence we did find Dust drawing Tears but shedding none The Shells of Fledge Souls left behind But since our Sav'ours Death hath put Some Blood and Vigour in thy Face Thou art much sought for as a good Thou art grown Fair and full of Grace We now behold Thee gay and glad As thou wilt be at Judgment-Day Thy Bones with Beauty shall be clad When Souls shall wear their new aray Therefore we can go Dye as Sleep And safely trust half that we have Making our Pillows Doan or Dust Unto an honest faithful Grave New Testament-Hymns Taken out of Dr. Woodford's PARAPHRASE And Turn'd into the Common Metre The Song of the Blessed Uirgin 1. MY Soul doth magnifie the Lord My Spirit in Him rejoyce My Saviours Praises to Record My Spirit provokes my Voice Nor Soul nor Spirit my Will or Mind Shall in his Praise lye still With Voice and Lyre I 'll all my Powers Summon to shew their skill 2. The Church his Handmaids low Estate He kindly did
with thy Blood And sanctifi'd me with thy Grace And all to do me good My Sins done heretofore Purge for that heavy score I do confess and hate and I Will strive to Sin no more My Heart Mouth Hands in me With Faith Hope Charity Enrich O Lord that so I may Rise run and rest with Thee Avarice To the Tune of Psalm 67. MOney thou source of Wo Although thou art so fine Thy Parantage is base and low Found in a dirty Mine Thou could'st so little do For th' Kingdom thou hast got That Man was fain to Dig thee out Of thy dark Cave and Grot. Brightned by Fire thou 'st got The Face of Man for we Transfer our Right thou art the Man And we but dross to Thee Man calleth Thee his Wealth And yet He made Thee Rich And while with pains He digs out Thee Himself falls in the Ditch Submission BUt that thou art my Wisdom Lord And both mine Eyes are thine My Mind would be extreamly stirr'd For missing my design Were it not better to bestow Some Place or Power on me Then should thy Praises with me grow And share in my degree But when I thus dispute and grieve I do resume my sight And pilfring what I once did give Disseise thee of thy Right How know I if thou should'st me raise That I should then raise thee Perhaps great Places and thy Praise Do not so well agree Wherefore unto my Gift I stand I will no more advise Only do thou lend me an Hand Since thou hast both mine Eyes Mortification 1. HOw soon doth Man decay When clothes Took from a Chest of sweets To swaddle Infants seem to be Their little winding Sheets Boys step as 't were into their Graves When they go first to Bed Sleep binds them fast only their Breath Shews that they are not Dead 2. When Youth is frank and free and while His Veins with Blood do swell Calling for Mirth his Musick then Doth summon to his Knell When Man grows staid and coveteth An House and Home to have That Dumb inclosure maketh Love T' a Coffin or a Grave 3. When Age grows low or weak it marks The Grave which He draws near His Chair or Litter where He sits Or lies is like his Bier And thus Man's last Solemnity Is fixt ere He 's aware He dresseth up his Herse while He Hath Breath as yet to spare Misery To the Tune of Psalm 100. LOrd let the Angels Praise thy Name Man is an empty foolish Thing Folly and Sin play all his Game His House doth burn yet He doth Sing What strange Pollutions doth He wed As if none knew his Works but He No Man shall beat into his Head Thou canst within His Curtains see The best of Men turn but thine Hand One Moment stumble at a Pin They would not have their Actions scan'd Nor Sorrow tell them that they Sin My God Man cannot Praise thy Name Thou art all perfect Purity The Sun holds down his Head for shame Eclipsed when we speak of Thee As dirty Hands foul all they touch And those things most which are most fine So our Clay-Hearts ev'n when we Sing Thy Praises make them less Divine Man cannot serve Thee let Him go And serve the Swine where 's his Delight He likes not Vertue let him have His Dirt to wallow in all Night Indeed at first Man was a Treasure A Box of precious Rarities A Ring whose Posie was my Pleasure A Garden in a Paradice But Sin hath fool'd him now He is A Lump of Flesh without a Wing To raise Him to the Glimpse of Bliss A Vessel dash'd on every Thing Obedience To the Tune of Psalm 67. MY God if Writings may Convey Estates away Why may not this poor Paper do For me as much as they On it my Heart doth bleed As many Lines as need To pass it self away and I Own it my Act and Deed. If that hereafter Pleasure Cavil and claim her Measure I here exclude the wrangler from Any part of thy Treasure Oh let thy Sacred Will All thy delight fulfil Let me not Think or Act but as Resign'd up to thy skill Lord what is Man to Thee But as a rotten Tree Yet since thou seest all thou canst As will me Guide as see He that will pass his Land With me may set his hand Unto this Deed to both our Goods If He to it will stand How happy were my Part If some one will his heart Enter with me in Heav'ns Court-Rolls Far above our Desert Home To the Tune of Psalm 100. COme Lord my Head and Heart is sick Whilst thou dost ever ever stay Thy long delaies wound to the quick My Spirit gaspeth Night and Day How can'st thou stay seeing the pace The Blood did make which thou didst waste Viewing it trickle down thy Face I never saw thing make such haste When Man was lost thou look'st about To see what help in th' Earth or Sky But there was none no help without The help did in thy Bosom lye There lay thy Son and must He leave That Hive of sweetness to remove Thraldom from those who at a Feast Left not one Apple for thy Love He did He came O Saviour Dear After all this canst thou be strange So long baptiz'd and not appear As if thy Love could fail or change Yet if thou stay'st why must I stay My God what is this World to me This World of Wo Ye Clouds away Away I must get up and see With one small Sigh the other Day I blasted all the Joys about me And scouling as they past away Now come again said I and flout me Both Drought and Dearth both Bush and Brake Which way so e're I look I see We may Dream here but when we wake We dress our selves and come to Thee We talk of Harvests there are none But when we leave our Corn and Hay The fruitful Year is that which brings The last and lov'd though dreadful Day This Frame this Knot of Man untye That my free Soul may use her wing Now pinion'd with Mortality As an entangled hamper'd thing What 's left that I should stay and groan The most of me to Heav'n is fled My Thoughts and Joys packt up and gone And for their old Acquaintance plead Oh shew me in thy Temple here Thy wondrous Grace thy special Love Or take me up to dwell with Thee Within thy glorious House above Dulness WHy langish I as if all Earth Thus drooping dead and dull O give me quickness that with Mirth I may Thee Praise brim-full The wanton in a curious strain Can Praise His fairest Fair And with quaint Metaphors again Curl o're her curled Hair Thou alone Beauty are to me Loveliness Life and Light Thy bloody Death and undeserv'd Makes thee pure Red and White Where are my Lines Approaches Views Where are my Window-Songs Lovers pretending are their Muse Is sharp'ned by their wrongs But I am lost in Flesh and mock't By sugar'd Fallacies Sure