The next temptation, which befalls of course
From Satan, and from nature's selfish force,
Is when the soul has tasted of the love,
And been illuminated from above;
Still in its self-hood it would seek to shine,
And, as its own, possess the light divine.

That is, the soulish nature, take it right,
As much a serpent, if without God's light,
As Lucifer, this nature still would claim
For own propriety the heav'nly flame;
And elevate its fire to a degree,

Above the light's good pow'r, which cannot be.

This domineering self, this nature fire,
Must be transmuted to a love desire:
Now, when this change is to be undergone,
It looks for some own pow'r, and finding none,
Begins to doubt of grace, unwilling quite
To yield up its self-willing nature's right.

It ever quakes for fear, and will not die
In light divine, tho' to be blest thereby:
The light of grace it thinks to be deceit,
Because it worketh gently without heat:
Mov'd too by outward reason, which is blind,
Aud, of itself, sees nothing of this kind.

Who knows, it thinketh, whether it be true
That God is in thee, and enlightens too?
Is it not fancy? for thou dost not see
Like other people, who, as well as thee,
Hope for salvation, by the grace of God,
Without such fear, and trembling at his rod.

Thus the poor soul, accounted for a fool,
By all the reas'ners of a gayer school,
By all the graver people, who embrace
Mere verbal promises of future grace,
Sighs from its deep internal ground, and pants
For such enlight'ning comfort as it wants;

And fain would have; but nature can, alas!
Do nothing, of itself, to bring to pass;
And is, thro' its own impotence, afraid
That God rejects it, and will give no aid;
Which, with regard to the self-will, is true;
For God rejects it, to implant a new.

The own self-will must die away, and shine,
Rising thro' death, in saving will divine;
And, from the opposition which it tries
Against God's will, such great temptations rise:
The devil too is loth to lose his prey,
And see his fort cast down, if it obey.

For, if the life of Christ within arise,
Self-lust, and false imagination dies;
Wholly it cannot in this present life,

But by the flesh maintains the daily strife;
Dies, and yet lives; as they alone can tell,
In whom Christ fights against the pow'rs of Hell.

The third temptation is in mind, and will,
And flesh and blood, if Satan enter still;
Where the false centres lie in man, the springs
Of pride, and lust, and love of earthly things;
And all the curses wish'd by other men,
Which are occasion'd by this devil's den.

These in the astral spirit make a fort,
Which all the sins concentre to support;

And human will, esteeming for its joy
What Christ, to save it, combats to destroy,
Will not resign the pride-erected tow'r,
Nor live obedient to the Saviour's pow'r.

Thus I have giv'n you, loving sir, to know What our dear Saviour has been pleas'd to show To my consideration; now, on this, Examine well what your temptation is: "We must leave all, and follow him," he said, Right Christ-like poor, like our redeeming head.

Now, if self-lust stick yet upon your mind, Or love of earthly things, of any kind, Then, from those centres, in their working force, Such a temptation will rise up of course:

If

you will follow, when it does arise,

My child-like counsel, hear what I advise.

Fix your whole thought upon the bitter woe, Which our dear Lord was pleas'd to undergo; Consider the reproach, contempt, and scorn, The worldly state so poor, and so forlorn, Which he was so content to bear; and then, His suff'ring, dying for us sinful men.

And thereunto give up your whole desire,
And mind, and will; and earnestly aspire
To be as like him as you can; to bear,
(And with a patience bent to persevere)
All that is laid upon you; and to make
His process your's, and purely for his sake;

For love of him, most freely to embrace
Contempt, affliction, poverty, disgrace;
All that can happen, so you may but gain
His blessed love within you, and maintain;
No longer willing with a self-desire,
But such as Christ within you shall inspire.

Dear sir, I fear lest something still amiss,
Averse to him, cause such a strife as this:
He wills you, in his death, with him to die
To your own will, and to arise thereby
In his arising; and that life to live,
Which he is striving in your soul to give.

Let go all earthly will; and be resign'd
Wholly to him, with all your heart and mind:
Be joy, or sorrow, comfort, or distress,
Receiv'd alike, for he alike can bless,
To gain the victory of Christian faith
Over the world, and all Satanic wrath.

So shall you conquer death, and Hell, and sin; And find, at last, what Christ in you hath been: By sure experience will be understood,

How all hath happen'd to you for your good:
Of all his children this hath been the way;
And Christian love here dictates what I say.

ON BEARING THE CROSS.

A DIALOGUE.

TAKE up the cross which thou hast got,
For love of Christ, and bear it not
As Simon of Cyrene did,
Compell'd to do as he was bid.

"Pray, am not I, who cannot free Myself, compell'd as much as he?

I cannot shun it, and, of course,
Must bear this heavy cross by force."

What dost thou get then by disgust
At bearing that, which bear thou must?
Nothing abates the force of ill,
Like a resign'd and patient will.

"Tis true; but how shall I obtain
Such an abatement of my pain?
Compulsion tempts me to repine
At Simon's case becoming mine."

Look then at Jesus gone before; Reflect on what thy Saviour bore; Bore, tho' he could have been set free, Death on the cross, for love of thee.

"He did so-Lord! what shall I say? Do thou enable me to pray, If 't is not possible to shun

This bitter cross-thy will be done!"

A SOLILOQUY

ON THE CAUSE AND CONSEQUENCE OF A DOUBT

ING MIND.

I MUSE, I doubt, I reason, and debate-
Therefore, I am not in that perfect state,
In which, when its creation first began,
God plac'd his own beloved image, man;
From whose high birth, at once design'd for all,
This ever poring reason proves a fall.

Whilst Adam stood in that immortal life,
Wherein pure truth excluded doubt and strife,
He knew, he saw, by a diviner light,
All that was good for knowledge, or for sight;
But when the serpent-subtlety of Hell
Brought him to doubt, and reason-then he fell.

Fell, by declining from an upright will,
And sunk into a state of good and ill:
The very state of such a world as this
Became a death to his immortal bliss:
Bliss, which his reason gave him not, before
The loss ensu'd, nor after could restore.

From him descending, all the human race
Must needs partake the nature of his case:
Just as the trunk, the branches, or the fruit,
Derive their substance from the parent root:
What life, or death, into the father came,
The sons, tho' guiltless, could but have the same.

If I am one, if ever I must live

The blissful life, which God design'd to give;
As reason dictates, or as some degree
Of higher light enables one to see,
It cannot rise from being born on Earth,
Without a second, new, and heav'nly birth.

The gospel doctrine, which assures to men
The joyful truth of being born again,
Demands the free consent of ev'ry will,
That seeks the good, and to escape the ill:
In all the sav'd, right reason must allow
Such birth effected, tho' it knows not how.

Such was the faith in life's redeeming seed,
Of poor fail'n man the comfort, and the creed:

A PLAIN ACCOUNT

OF THE NATURE AND DESIGN OF TRUE RELIGION.

WHAT is religion?-Why it is a cure,
Giv'n in the gospel, gratis, to the poor,

By Jesus Christ, the healer of the soul;
Which all who take are sure to be made whole;

And they who will not, all the art of man
May strive to cure them, but it never can.

Cure for what malady?-For that of sin,
From whence all other maladies begin;
It had its rise in Adam, first of all,
And all his sons, partaking of his fall,
Want a new Adam to beget them free
From sin and death; and Jesus Christ is he.

How is it giv'n?-By raising a new birth
Of heav'nly life, surviving that of Earth;
Which may, at any time, at some it must,
Return its mortal body to the dust;
And then the born of God in Christ again
Will rise immortal, true angelic men.

Why in the gospel?-Gospel is, indeed,
In its true living sense, the holy seed,
By God's great mercy, first, in Adam sown,
And first, in Christ, to full perfection grown:
Fullness, from which all holy souls derive,
And bodies too, the pow'r to be alive.

Why gratis giv'n?-Because the love-desire
Of God, in Christ, can never work for hire:
Its nature is to love for loving's sake,
To give itself to ev'ry will to take;
To them it brings, amidst the darkest night,
Its life and immortality to light.

Why to the poor?--Because they feel their Which trust in riches is so loth to grant: [want, The rich have something which they call their The poor have nothing, but to Christ alone [own; They owe themselves, and pay him what they And what religion is-they only know. [owe,

ON THE TRUE MEANING OF THE SCRIPTURE TERMS LIFE AND DEATH,

WHEN APPLIED TO MEN.

TRUE life, according to the scripture plan,
Is God's own likeness in his image, man;
This was the life that Adam ceas'd to live,
Or lost by sin; and therefore could not give:
So that his offspring, all the born on Earth,
Want a new parent of this heav'nly birth.

This, Christ alone, God's image most express, The second Adam, gives them to possess;

Becoming man, reversing human fall,
And raising up the first, true life in all;
Healing our nature's deadly wound within,
And quenching wrath, or death, or Hell, or sin.
For all such words describe one evil thing,
Or want of good; that has one only spring.
The love of God, in Christ, which form'd at first
A blessed Adam, and redeem'd a curst
By his own act-Good only was design'd
For Adam, and, in him, for all mankind.

He fell from good, misusing his free will,
Into this world, this life of good and ill:
From whence, the willing to be sav'd revive
Thro' faith and penitence, in Christ alive;
A second death succeeds, if they refuse; [choose.
For choosing creatures must have what they

Not bare existence, when we go from hence,
Is immortality, in scripture sense;
For thus, alike immortal, are confest
The good, the bad; the ruin'd, and the blest;
Whose inbred tempers hint the reason, why
They live for ever, or for ever die.

God's likeness, light and spirit in the soul,
Make, as at first, its biest immortal whole;
'Tis death to want them; vain is all dispute;
The gospel only reaches to the root:
All the inspir'd have understood it thus;
Immortal life is that of Christ in us.

Born of this holy, Virgin seed divine, To a new life within this mortal shrine, The faithful breathe a spirit from above, And make of self a sacrifice to love: By Christ redeem'd they rise from Adam's fall, From Earth to Heav'n, where God is all in all,

PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. "THO' all forsake thee, master, yet not I; I'll go to prison with thee, or to die," Said Peter-yet how soon did he deny!

A striking proof, that, even to good will, The help of grace is necessary still, To save a soul from falling into ill.

His master told him how the case would be, But Peter could not see himself, not be; 'Till grace withdrew, that he might come to see.

Peter, so valiant on a selfish plan, Quite frighted by a servant maid, began

To curse, and swear, and did not know the man.

'Twas thus that Satan sifted him like wheat, And made him think his courage was so great; While Jesus pray'd that he might see the cheat.

High-minded in himself he fell-how low, The cock instructed him, foretold to crow: His real self then Peter came to know.

He that would die with him, tho' all forsook,

RELIGION.

EXPLAIN religion by a thousand schemes,
Still God and self will be the two extremes;
In him the one true good of it is found;
In self, of all idolatry, the ground:
False worship, paid at al! its various shrines,
One same departure from his love defines.

By love to him blest angels kept their state;
Which the apostate lost by cursed hate;
Setting up self in the Almighty's room,
It sunk them down into its dreadful gloom:
On separation from his love, the source
Of all felicity was lost of course.

By love to him, the first created man
Was highly blest; 'till selfishness began,
Tho' serpentine delusion, to arise,
And tempt above God's wisdom to be wise;
When he had chosen to prefer his own,
The naked, miserable self was known.

Hence we inherit such a life as this,
Dead, of itself, to paradisic bliss:
Hence all our hopes, of a diviner birth
Depend on Christ, and his descent on Earth;
Subduing self, as Adam should have done,
And loving God thro' his beloved Son.

The Mediator betwixt God and men, Who brings their nature back to him again, Sav'd from all sinful self, or deadly wrath, Or hellish evil, by the pow'r of faith Working by love, of which it is the strength; And must attain the full true life at length.

And learn'd humility by love's rebuke.

Lesson for us is plain from Peter's case, That real virtue is the work of grace, And of its height humility the base.

ON THE CAUSE, CONSEQUENCE, AND
CURE OF SPIRITUAL PRIDE.
SUPPOSE an heater burning in the fire
To be alive, to will, and to desire;
To reason, feel, and have, upon the whole,
What we will call an understanding soul;
Conscious of pow'rful heat within its mould,
And colour bright above the burnish'd gold.

Suppose that pride should catch this heater's
And from the fire per ade it to depart; [heart,
To show itself, and make it to be known,
That it can raise a splendour of its own;
Au own rich colour, an own potent heat,
Without dependence on the fire, complete.

It leaves, in prospect of so fine a show,
The fiery bosom where it learnt to glow;
Cools by degrees, till all its golden hue
Is vanish'd, and its pow'r of heating too;
Its own, once hidden, nature domineers,
And the dark, cold, self-iron lump appears.

Transfer this feign'd, imaginary pride,
To that which really does, too oft, betide;
When human souls, endu'd with grace divine,
Become ambitious, of themselves, to shine;

And, proud of qualities which grace bestows,
Forsake its bosom for self-shining shows.

And thence conceive the natural effects
Of pride, in either single men, or sects;
That for variety of selfish strife
Forsake the one, true cause of all true life;
The heav'nly spirit-fire of love, within
Whose sacred bosom all their gifts begin.

From which, if reason, learning, wit, or parts,
Tempt their ambition to withdraw their hearts,
There must ensue, whatever they may mean,
The disappearance of the glowing scene;
From the most gifted vanishing of course,
When disunited from its real source.

As only fire ean possibly restore
The heater's force, to what it was before;
So that of love alone consumes the dross
Of wrathful nature, and repairs its loss;
It will again unite with all desire,
That casts itself into the holy fire.

THE BEGGAR AND THE DIVINE.
In some good books one reads of a divine,
Whose memorable case deserves a line;
Who, to serve God the best, and shortest way,
Pray'd, for eight years together, ev'ry day,
That in the midst of doctrines and of rules,
However taught and practis'd by the schools,
He would be pleas'd to bring him to a man
Prepar'd to teach him the compendious plan.
He was himself a doctor, and well read
In all the points to which divines were bred;
Nevertheless, he thought, that what concern'd
The most illiterate, as well as learn'd,
To know and practise, must be something still
More independent on such kind of skill:
True Christian worship had, within its root,
Some simpler secret, clear of all dispute;
Which, by a living proof that he might know,
He pray'd for some practitioner to show.

One day, possess'd with an intense concern
About the lesson which he sought to learn,
He heard a voice that sounded in his ears-
"Thou has been praying for a man eight years;
Go to the porch of yonder church, and find
A man prepar'd according to thy mind."

Away he went to the appointed ground; When, at the entrance of the church, he found A poor old beggar, with his feet full sore, And not worth two-pence all the clothes he wore. Surpris'd to see an object so forlorn"My friend," said he, "I wish thee a good morn." "Thank thee," reply'd the beggar, "but a bad I do'nt remember that I ever had."

Sure he mistakes, the doctor thought, the phrase"Good fortune, friend, befall thee all thy days!" Me," said the beggar, " many days befall, But none of them unfortunate at all""God bless thee, auswer plainly, I request?"— "Why, plainly then, I never was unblest""Never? Thou speakest in a mystic strain, Which more at large I wish thee to explain.”— "With all my heart-Thou first didst condescend

"To wish me kindly a good morning, friend;

And I reply'd, that I remember'd not
A bad one ever to have been my lot:
For, let the morning turn out how it will,
I praise my God for ev'ry new one still:
If I am pinch'd with hunger, or with cold,
It does not make me to let go my hold;
Still I praise God-hai!, rain, or snow, I take
This blessed cordial, which has pow'r to make
The foulest morning, to my thinking, fair;
For cold and hunger yield to praise and pray'r.
Men pity me as wretched, or despise;
But whilst I hold this noble exercise,
It cheers my heart to such a due degree,
That ev'ry morning is still good to me.

"Thou didst, moreover, wish me lucky days,
And I, by reason of continual praise,
Said that I had none else; for come what wou'd
On any day, I knew it must be good
Because God sent it; sweet or bitter, joy
Or grief, by this angelical employ,
Of praising him, my heart was at its rest,
And took whatever happen'd for the best;
So that my own experience might say,
It never knew of an unlucky day.

[1 said

"Then didst thou pray- God bless thee'-and 'I never was unblest:' for being led By the good spirit of imparted grace To praise his name, and ever to embrace His righteous will, regarding that alone, With total resignation of my own,

I never could, in such a state as this,
Complain for want of happiness or bliss;
Resolv'd, in all things, that the will divine,
The source of all true blessing, should be mine."
The doctor, learning from the beggar's case
Such wond'rous instance of the pow'r of grace,
Propos'd a question, with intent to try
The happy mendicant's direct reply-
"What wouldst thou say," said he, "should God
To cast thee down to the infernal pit?" [think fit
"He cast me down? He send me into Hell?
No-He loves me, and I love him too well:
But put the case he should, I have two arms
That will defend me from all hellish harms,
The one, humility, the other, love;
These I would throw below him, and above;
One under his humanity I'd place,
His deity the other should embrace;
With both together so to hold him fast,
That he should go wherever he would cast,
And then, whatever thou shalt call the sphere,
Hell, if thou wilt, 'tis Heav'n if he be there."

Thus was a great divine, whom some have
To be the justly fam'd Taulerus, taught [thought
The holy art, for which he us'd to pray,
That to serve God the most compendious way,
Was to hold fast a loving, humble mind,
Still praising him, and to his will resign'd.

FRAGMENT OF AN HYMN,

ON THE GOODNESS OF GOD.

O goodness of God! more exceedingly great
Than thought can conceive, or than words can re-
Whatsoever we fix our conceptions upon [peat;
It has some kind of bounds, but thy goodness has

none: