O dart of Love! arrow of light!
O happy you, if it hit right;
It must not fall in vain, it must
Not mark the dry regardless duft.
Fair one, it is your fate; and brings
Eternal words upon its wings.

Meet it with wide-spread arms, and fee
Its feat your foul's juft centre be.
Difband dull fears; give faith the day,
To fave your life, kill your delay;
It is Love's fiege, and fure to be
Your triumph, though his victory.
'Tis cowardice that keeps this field,
And want of courage not to yield.
Yield then, O yield, that Love may win
The fort at la, and let life in.
Yield quickly, left perhaps you prove
Death's prey, before the prize of love.
This fort of your fair self, if 't be not won,
He is repulft indeed, but you 're undone.

To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus.
A Hymn.

1 SING the Name which none can say,
But touch'd with an interior ray;
The Name of our new peace, our good,
Our blife, and fupernatural blood.
The Name of all our lives and loves,
Hearken, and help ye holy doves,
The high-born brood of day, the bright
Candidates of blissful light,

The heirs elect of love, whofe names belong
Unto the everlafting life of fong;

All ye wife fouls, who in the wealthy breast,
Of this unbounded name build your warm neft,
Awake my glory, foul (if fuch thou be
And that fair word at all refer to thee)
Awake and fing,

And be all wing,

Bring hither thy whole felf, and let me fee
What of thy parent Heaven yet speaks in thee;

O thou art poor
Of noble powers I fee,
And full of nothing else but empty me,
Narrow, and low, and infinitely lefs
Than this great morning's mighty business.
One little word or two
(Alas) will never do;
We must have store,

Go, foul, out of thyself, and seek for more;
Go and request

Great Nature for the key of her huge cheft
Of heav'ns, the self involving set of spheres,
Which dull mortality more feels than hears;
Then roufe the neit

Of nimble art, and traverse round
The airy shop of soul appeasing sound,
And beat a fummons in the fame
All Sovereign Name,

To warn each feveral kind

And fhape of fweetnefs, be they fuch

As figh with fupple wind,

Or anfwer artful touch,

That they convene and come away,

To wait at the love crowned doors of this illuf

trious day.

Come ne'er to part,

Nature and art
Come, and come strong

To the confpiracy of our fpacious fong,

Bring all the powers of praise Your powers of well united worlds can raise; Bring all your lutes, and harps of heav'n and earth,

Whate'er co-operates to the common mirth,
Veffels of vocal joys,

Or you more noble architects of intellectual noife,
Cymbals of heav'n or human spheres,
Solicitors of fouls or ears,

And when you're come with all
That you can bring, or we can call
O may you fix

For ever here, and mix
Yourselves into the long

And everlasting feries of a deathlefs fong;
Mix all your many worlds above
And loose them into one of love.
Cheer thee my heart

For thou too haft thy part
And place in the great throng

Of this unbounded, all embracing fong.

Powers of my foul be proud
And speak aloud

To all the dear-bought nations, this redeeming

Name,

O! come away,

And kill the death of this delay. D! fee fo many worlds of barren years Melted, and measur'd out in feas of tears; O. fee, the weary lids of wakeful hope (Love's eastern windows) all wide ope, With curtains drawn, To catch the day-break of thy dawn; O dawn at last, long-lock'd for day, Take thine own wings and come away. Lo, where aloft it comes: It comes among The conduct of adoring spirits, that throng Like diligent bees, and swarm about it;

O! they are wife,

And know what fweets are fuck'd from out it; It is the hive

By which they thrive,

Where all the hoard of honey lies,

Lo, where it comes, upon the fnowy doves
Soft back, and brings a bofom big with loves;
Welcome to our dark world, thou womb of day!
Unfold thy fair conceptions, and difplay

The birth of our bright joys;

O! thou compacted Body of bleffings, fpirit of fouls extracted! O! diffipate thy spicy powers,

(Cloud of condenfed fweets) and break upon us In balmy showers,

O fill our fenfes, and take from us

All force of fo profane a fallacy,

To think ought fweet but that which smells of thee, Fair, flow'ry Name; in none but thee,

And thy nectareal fragrancy,

Hourly there meets

An univerfal fynod of all fweets,
By whom it is defined thus,
That no perfume

For ever thall prefume
To pafs for odoriferous,

But fuch alone whofe facred pedigree

Can prove itself fome kin (fweet Name) to thee.
Sweet Name, in thy each fyllable;
A thousand blest Arabias dwell;
A thousand hills of frankincense;
Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spices,
And ten thousand paradifes

The foul tastes thee takes from thence.
How many unknown worlds there are

Of comforts which thou haft in keeping!
How many thousand mercies there,
In Pity's loft lap, lie a sleeping!
Happy he who has the art

To awake them,

And to take them

Home and lodge them in his heart.

O that it were as it was wont to be!

When thy old friends of fire, all full of thee

Fought against frowns with fmiles, gave glorious To perfecutions, and against the face

[chafe

Of death, and fierceft dangers, durst with brave
And fober pace, march on to meet a grave.

On their bold breasts about the world they bars

thee,

And to the teeth of hell stood up to teach thee;
In centre of their inmoft fouls they wore thee
Where racks and torments ftriv'd in vain to reach
thee.

Little, alas! thought they

Who tore the fair breafts of thy friends,
Their fury but made way
For thee; and ferv'd therein thy glorious ends.
What did their weapons but with wider pores
Enlarge thy flaming-breafted lovers
More freely to transpire

That impatient fire

The heart that hides thee hardly covers? What did their weapons but fet wide the doors For thee? Fair purple doors of Love's deviling; The ruby windows which enrich'd the east Of thy fo oft repeated rifing. Each wound of theirs was thy new morning; And re-enthron'd thee in thy rofy ne,

With blush of thine own blood thy day adorning. It was the wit of love o'erflow'd the bounds Of wrath, and made thee way through all those wounds.

Welcome dear, all-adored name!

For fure there is no knee

That knows not thee.

Oh! if there be fuch fons of shame,
Alas. What will they do

When ftubborn rocks shall bow,

And hills hang down their heav'n faluting heads

To feck for humble beds

Of duft, wherein the bathful fhades of night
Next to their own low nothing they may ly,
And couch before the dazzling light of thy dread
majefty?

They that by Love's mild dictate now
Will not adore thee

Shall then, with juft confusion, bow
And break before thee.

In the Glorious Epiphany of our Lord God, a Hymn fung as by the Three Kings.

BRIGHT Babe! whofe awful beauties make
The morn incur a sweet mittake,

For whom th' officious heav'ns devise
To difinherit the fun's rife,

Delicately to displace

The day, and plant it fairer in thy face.

1. O thou born King of loves,

2. Farewell, farewell The proud and misplac'd gates of hell Perch'd in the morning's way, And double gilded as the doors of day; The deep hypocrify of death, and night, More desperately dark, because more bright. 3. Welcome the world's fure Way! Heav'ns wholesome Ray;

Chorus.

Welcome to us, and we

(Sweet) to our felves, in Thee.

1. The deathless Heir of all thy Father's day! 2. Decently born,

Embofom'd in a much more rofy morn,
The blushes of thy all-unblemish'd mother.
3. No more that other
Aurora fhall fet ope

Her ruby cafements, or hereafter hope
From mortal eyes

To meet religious welcomes at her rife. Chorus. We (precious ones!) in you have wo A gentler morn, a juster sun. 1. His fuperficial beams fun burnt our skin, 2. But left within

3. The night, and winter ftill of death and fin. Chorus. Thy fofter, yet more certain darts, Spare our eyes, but pierce our hearts, 1. Therefore with his proud Persian spoils 2. We court thy more concerning fmiles, 3. Therefore with his difgrace We gild the humble cheek of thy chafte place, Chorus. And at thy feet pour forth his face. 1. The doating nations now no more Shall any day, but thine adore; 2. Nor (much lefs) fhall they leave these eyes For cheap gyptian deities.

3 In whatfoe'er more facred fhape
Of ram, he-goat, or reverend ape,
Those beauteous ravishers oppreft so forç
The too hard tempted nations.

1. Time has a day in store

When this fo proudly poor

And felf oppreffed fpark, that has fo long By the love fick world been made Not fo much their fun as fhade, Weary of this glorious wrong, From them and from himself shall flee For fhelter to the fhadow of thy tree barus. Proud to have gain'd this precious lofs, And chang'd his falfe crown for thy cross.

. That dark day's dear doom fhall define Whofe is the master fire, which fun fhould shine?

That fable-judgment feat fhall by new laws
Decide and fettle the great cause
Of controverted light,

berur. And nature's wrongs rejoice to do Thee right.

3. That forfeiture of noon to night shall pay
All the idolatrous thefts done by this night of day,
And the great penitent prefs his own pale lips
With an elaborate love eclipfe,

To which the low world's laws
Sha!! lend no caufe,

berus. Save thofe domestics, which he borrows From our fins, and his own forrows,

1. Three fad hours fackcloth then fhall fhow to us

His penance, as our fault, confpicuous,

2. And he more needfully and nobly prove The nations terror now, than 'erft their love. 3. Their hated love's chang`d into wholefome fears,

Choras. The fhutting of his eye fhall open theirs.
1. As by a fair-eye'd fallacy of day
Mifled, before they lolt their way,
So fhall they, by the feasonable fright,
Of an unfeasonable night,

Lofing it once again, ftumble on true light.
2. And as before his too bright eye
Was their more blind idolatry,

So his officious blindness now shall be,
Their black, but faithful perspective of Thee.

3. His new prodigious night,

Their new, and admirable light,

The fupernatural dawn of thy pure day, While wondering they

(The happy converts now of him Whom they compell'd before tobe their fin) Shall henceforth fee

To kifs him only as their Rod,
Whom they fo long courted as God.
Chorus. And the best use of him they worship'd be
To learn of him at least to worship Thee.
I. It was their weakness woo'd his beauty,
But it shall be

Their wisdom now as well as duty
T'enjoy his blot; and as a large black letter
Ufe to fpell thy beauties better,
And make the night itself their torch to Thee.
2. By the oblique ambush of this close night,
Couch'd in the confcious shade,

The right eye'd Areopagite
Shall with a vigorous guefs invade
Aud catch thy quick reflex; and fharply fee
On this dark ground,

To defcant Thee.

[chafe,

3. O prize of the rich Spirit! with what fierce Of this strong foul, fhall he Leap at thy lofty face,

And feize the fwift flafh, in rebound

From this obfequious cloud;

Once call'd a fun,

Till dearly thus undone;

Chorus. Till thus triumphantly tam'd (O! ye two Twin-funs) and taught now to negotiate

you.

I. Thus fhall that reverend child of light 2. By being scholar first of that new night, 3. Come forth great Master of the myftic day, And teach obfcure mankind a more clofe way, By the frugal negative light

Chorus.

Of a moft wife and well abufed night,
To read more legible thine original ray,
And make our darkness serve thy day,
Maintaining 'twixt thy world and ours
A commerce of contrary powers,
A mutual trade

'Twixt fun, and fhade,

By confederate black and white,
Borrowing day and lending night.

1. Thus we, who when with all the noble powers That (at thy cost) are call'd not vainly ours, We vow to make brave way

Upwards, and prefs on for the pure intelligential prey;

2 At leaft to play

The amorous fpies,

And peepandproferat thy sparklingthrone, 3. Instead of bringing in the blifsful prize And faft'ning on thine eyes,

2. His glittering robe, (3.) his sparkling crown, 1. His gold, his (2.) myrrh, (3.) frankincense, Chorus. To which he now has no pretence; For being show'd by this day's light, how far He is from fun, enough to make thy ftar, His best ambition now, is but to be Something a brighter shadow (sweet) of Thee. Or on heav'ns azure forehead high to stand Thy golden Index; with a duteous hand, Pointing us home to our own Sun The world's and his hyperion.

MADAM,

foregoing Hymn.

race,

Thefe royal fages fue for decent place.
The day-break of the nations, their first ray
When the dark world dawn'd into Christian day,
And smil'd'ith' Babe's bright face, the purpling bud
And rofy down of the right royal blood.
Fair firft-fruits of the Lamb. Sure kings in this
They took a kingdom while they gave a kiss.
But the world's homage, fcarce in these well blown,
We read in you (dear queen) ripe and full grown.
For from this day's rich feed of diadems
Does rife a radiant crop of royal ftems,
A royal harvest of crown'd heads that meet
And crowd for kifles from the Lamb's white feet.
In this illustrious throng, your lofty flood
Swells high, fair confluence of all high-born blood.
With your bright head whole groves of fceptres bend
Their wealthy tops, and for thefe feet contend.
So fwore the Lamb's great Sire, and fo we fee't,
Crowns, and the heads they kifs, must court these
feet.

Fix here, fair majefty! may your heart ne'er mifs
To reap new crowns and kingdoms from that kifs,
Nor may we mifs the joy to meet in you
The aged honours of this day still new;
May the great time, in you, fill greater be,
While all the year is your epiphany;
While your each day's devotion duly brings,
Three kingdoms to fupply this day's three kings.
The Recommandation.

THESE hours, and that which hovers o'er my end,
Into thy hands, and heart, Lord, I commend.

Take both to thine account, that I and mine
In that hour and in these, may be all thine.

That as I dedicate my devoutest breath,
To make a kind of life for my Lord's death;

So from his living, and life-giving death,
My dying life may draw a new, and never-feet-
ing breath.

IV,

Tall tree of life! thy truth makes good
What was till now ne'er understood,
Though the prophetic king
Struck loud his faithful string.

It was thy wood he meant should make the throne
For a more than Solomon.

Large throne of love! royally spread With purple of too rich a red.

Thy crime is too much duty; Thy burden too much beauty; Glorious or grievous more? thus to make good Thy softly cruelty with thy King's own blood.

VJ.

Even balance of both worlds! our world of fir And that of grace heav'n wag'd in him,

Both with one price were weighed,
Both with one price were paid,
Soon as the right-hand fcale rejoic'd to prove
How much death weigh'd more light than love.

Live, O for ever live and reign,
The Lamb whom his own love hath flain,
And let thy loft fheep live for to inherit
That kingdom which thy blessed death did merit.
CHARITAS NIMIA.-Or, the Dear Bargain.
LORD what is man? why fhould he coft you
So dear? what had his ruin loft you?
Lord! what is man, that thou haft over-bought
So much a thing of nought?
Love is too kind, I fee, and can
Make but a fimple merchant man :
'Twas for fuch forry merchandise,
Bold painters have put out his eyes.
Alas fweet Lord, what wer't to thee,
If there were no fuch worms as we?
Heav'n ne'er the lefs ftill heav'n would be
Should mankind dwell
In the deep hell,

What have his woes to do with thee!

Let him go weep