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PSALM XII.

Ive me, O Lord, the Innocency of Doves; and fill my Soul with thy. mild Spirit:

Then I fall need none of their Wings; fince Heaven it felf will dwell in my Heart. 'Tis on the Proud thou lookeft afar off; but inclineft thine Ear to the Humble and Meek :

Who delight in the Peace of a contented Mind; and limit their Thoughts to their own little Sphere:

Never intermedling with the Actions of others; unless where Charity and Reason engage them:

But their beloved Employment is to fit in Silence; and think on the Happiness they expect hereafter.

To meditate the Joys of Saints and Angels; and the blifsful Vifion of the Face of Jefus.

O how fecure and fweetly do they fleep; who go to Bed with a quiet Confcience! Who after a Day of faithful Industry, in a Course of juft and pious Living,

Lay down their wearied Heads in Peace; and fafely reft in the Bofom of Providence: If they awake, their Confcience comforts them in the Dark; and bids them not fear the Shadow of Death:

No, nor even Death it felf, but co fidently look up, and long for the Dawn of that Eternal Day.

This

This too, my Soul, fhou'd be our Care; to note, and cenfure, and correct our felves:

To ftrive for Mastery over the Paffions. that moleft us; and difmifs from our Thoughts what no way concerns us,

Are not our own Occafions Business enough, to fill as much Time as this Life deferves?

Does not the other, at least, deserve every Minute of Leifure we can spare from this? Let then the Worldly purfue their Liberties; and say and do as they think fit.

What's that to Thee, my Soul! who fhalt not answer for others, unless thou some way make their Faults thine own.

Thy Pity may grieve, and thy Charity endeavour; but if they will not hear, follow thou thy God.

Follow the Way that leads to Truth; follow the Truth that leads to Life.

Follow the Steps of thy belov'd Jesus, who alone is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Follow his Holinefs in what he did; follow his Patience in what he suffer'd.

Follow him that calls thee in a Thoufand Promises; follow him that crowns thee with infinite Rewards.

Follow thy faithful Lord, O my Soul, to the End; and thou art fure in the End to poffefs him for ever.

Glory be to the Father, &c.

As it was in the Beginning, &c.

PSALM

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PSAL M XIII.

Eeknefs indeed is the Heaven of this Life; but the Heaven of Heavens, O Lord, is above with Thee.

Meeknefs may qualifie our Miseries here; and make our Time pafs gentlier away.

But to be fully happy, we must stay till hereafter; till thy Mercy bring us all to our last great End.

That glorious End for which our Souls were made; and all things elfe, to ferve them in their way.

'Tis not to fport our Time in Pleasures, that thou, O Lord, haft placed us here. 'Tis not to gain a fair Eftate; that thy Kindness still prolongs our Days.

But to do good to our felves and others; and glorifie Thee in improving thy Crea

tures.

To increase every Day our longing Defires, of beholding Thee in thine own bright felf.

O glorious Lord, whofe infinite Sweetnefs provokes and fatisfies all our Appe

tites!

May my entire Affections delight in Thee; above all the vain Employments of this World.

Above all Praise and empty Honour; above all Beauty and fading Pleasure.

Above all Health and deceitful Riches; above all Power and subtleft Knowledge.

Above

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Above all even thine own Bounty can give, and whatever is not thy very Self. O! may my wearied Soul repofe in Thee; the Home and Center of Eternal Rest. May I forget my felf to think of Thee; and fill my Memory with the Wonders of thy Love.

That infinite Love, which when my Thoughts confider; not as they ought, alas! but as I am able,

The Goods or Ills of this World lofe their Name, and yield not either Relish or Distaste.

O my ador'd Jefus ! let me love Thee always; becaufe from Eternity thou haft loved me:

O let me love Thee only, gracious God! because thou alone deferveft all my Heart. Always, and only let me love Thee, O Lord! fince always my Hope is only in Thee. Glory be to the Father, &c.

As it was in the Beginning, &c.

Ant. All is unquiet here, till we come to Thee, and repofe at laft in the Kingdom of Peace.

HYMN IV.

Ear Jefu, when, when will it be

DE

That I no more shall break with Thee? When will this War of Paffions cease, And let my Soul enjoy thy Peace!

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Here I repent, and fin again;

Now I revive, and now am flain:
Slain with the fame unhappy Dart,
Which, O, too often wounds my Heart.

When, deareft Lord, when fhall I be
A Garden feal'd to all but Thee?
No more expos'd, no more undone;
But live, and grow to Thee alone?

'Tis not, alas, on this low Earth,
That fuch pure Flowers can find a Birth:
Only they spring above the Skies,
Where none can live, till here he dies.

Then let me die, that I may go,

And dwell where those bright Lillies (grow; Where those bleft Plants of Glory rife, And make a fafer Paradise.

No dangerous Fruit, no tempting Eve,
No crafty Serpent to deceive;
But we like Gods indeed fhall be;
O let me die that Life to fee.

Thus fays my Song: But does my Heart Joyn with the Words, and fing its Part

Am i fo thorough wife to chufe

The other World, and this refufe?

Why

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