Sin! O only fatal woe, That makes me sad and mourning go! That all my joys dost spoil, His Kingdom and my Soul defile! I never can agree With Thee. II Thou! Only Thou! O Thou alone, And my obdurate Heart of Stone, The poison and the foes Or my enjoyments and repose, The only bitter ill: Dost kill! III Oh! I cannot meet with thee, Nor once approach thy memory, But all my joys are dead, And all my sacred treasures fled, As if I now did dwell In Hell. IV Lord! O hear how short I breathe! See how I tremble here beneath A sin! its ugly face More terror than its dwelling-place Contains, (O dreadful sin) Within! THE RECOVERY Sin! wilt thou vanquish me! And shall I yield the victory? Shall all my joys be spoiled, And pleasures soiled By thee! Shall I remain As one that's slain And never more lift up the head? Is not my Saviour dead! His blood, thy bane, my balsam, bliss, joy, wine, Shall thee destroy; heal, feed, make me divine. [THE GLORY OF ISRAEL] I In Salem dwelt a glorious King, Rais'd from a shepherd's lowly state, That did His praises like an angel sing Who did the world create. By many great and bloody wars He was advanced unto thrones: But more delighted in the stars Than in the splendour of his precious stones. Nor gold nor silver did his eye regard: The works of God were his sublime reward. II A warlike champion he had been, And many feats of chivalry Had done: in kingly courts his eye had seen A vast variety Of earthly joys: yet he despised Those fading honours and false pleasures Which are by mortals so much prized; And placed his happiness in other treasures: No state of life which in this world we find Could yield contentment to his greater mind. III His fingers touched his trembling lyre, And every quivering string did yield A sound that filled all the Jewish quire, And echoed in the field. No pleasure was so great to him As in a silent night to see The moon and stars: a Cherubim Above them even here he seemed to be. Enflamed with love it was his great desire, To sing, contemplate, ponder, and admire. IV