ENGLISHED.

On Saint Ardalio, who from a Stage-player became a Christian, and suffered Martyrdom.

ARDALIO jeers, and in his comic strains

The mysteries of our bleeding God profanes,

While his loud laughter shakes the painted scenes.

Heaven heard, and straight around the smoking throne
The kindling lightning in thick flashes shone,
And vengeful thunder murmured to be gone.

Mercy stood near, and with a smiling brow

Calmed the loud thunder, "There's no need of you; Grace shall descend, and the weak man subdue."

Grace leaves the skies, and he the stage forsakes,
He bows his head down to the martyring axe,
And as he bows, this gentle farewell speaks:

"So goes the comedy of life away;

Vain earth, adieu! heaven will applaud to-day;
Strike, courteous tyrant, and conclude the play."

The following Poems of this Book are peculiarly
dedicated to Divine Love.

THE HAZARD OF LOVING THE CREATURES.

WHERE'ER my flutt'ring passions rove,

I find a lurking snare;
"Tis dangerous to let loose our love
Beneath th' Eternal Fair.

Souls whom the tie of friendship binds,

And partners of our blood,
Seize a large portion of our minds,

And leave the less for God.

Nature has soft but powerful bands,

And reason she controls;

While children with their little hands

Hang closest to our souls.

Different ages have their different airs and fashions of writing. It was much more the fashion of the age, when these poems were written, to treat of Divine subjects in the style of Solomon's Song than it is at this day, which will afford some apology for the writer in his younger years. [The Editor has, in this portion of the volume, liberally availed himself of the right of omission which his plan afforded him. In excluding a considerable number of those metrical imitations of the mystic divines which follow in former editions, he believes he is consulting a principle more entitled to respect than the taste peculiar to any single age. Pure as was the mind of Dr. Watts-and its purity was equal to the lucid clearness of his stylehe has, in many of these pieces, made so bold a use of the sensible imagery proper to amatory verse, that while the unspiritual reader is apt to linger, if not finally to rest, in the mere external sense, there is no small danger, at least in these times, lest the more pious and refined should experience a feeling bordering on disgust.]

Thoughtless they act th' old serpent's part;
What tempting things they be!

Lord, how they twine about our heart,
And draw it off from thee!

Our hasty wills rush blindly on
Where rising passion rolls,

And thus we make our fetters strong
To bind our slavish souls.

Dear Saviour, break these fetters off,
And set our spirits free;
Thou in thyself art bliss enough,
For we have all in thee.

THE HEART GIVEN AWAY.

IF love, that pleasing power, can rest
In hearts so hard as mine,

Come, gentle Saviour, to my breast,
For all my love is thine.

Let the gay world, with treacherous art,
Allure my eyes in vain.

I have convey'd away my heart,
Ne'er to return again.

I feel my warmest passions dead
To all that earth can boast:
This soul of mine was never made
For vanity and lust.

Now I can fix my thoughts above,
Amidst their flatt'ring charms,
Till the dear Lord that hath my love
Shall call me to his arms.

So Gabriel, at his King's command,
From yon celestial hill,

Flies downward to our worthless land,
His soul points upward still.

He glides along by mortal things,

Without a thought of love,

Fulfils his task, and spreads his wings,

To reach the realms above.

MUTUAL LOVE STRONGER THAN DEATH. MUTUAL LOVE

NOT the rich world of minds above

Can pay the mighty debt of love

I owe to Christ my God:

With pangs which none but he could feel

He brought my guilty soul from hell:

Not the first seraph's tongue can tell
The value of his blood.

Kindly he seiz'd me in his arms,

From the false world's pernicious charms

With force divinely sweet;

Had I ten thousand lives my own,

At his demand.

With cheerful hand,

I'd pay the vital treasure down

In hourly tributes at his feet.

But, Saviour, let me taste thy grace
With every fleeting breath:

And through that heaven of pleasure pass
To the cold arms of death;
Then I could lose successive souls

Fast as the minutes fly;

So billow after billow rolls

To kiss the shore, and die.

LOVE ON A CROSS, AND A THRONE.

Now let my faith grow strong, and rise,
And view my Lord in all his love;

Look back to hear his dying cries,

Then mount and see his throne above.

See where he languish'd on the cross,
Beneath my sins he groan'd and died;
See where he sits to plead my cause
By his Almighty Father's side.

If I behold his bleeding heart,

There love in floods of sorrow reigns,

He triumphs o'er the killing smart,
And buys my pleasure with his pains.

Or if I climb th' eternal hills

Where the dear Conqueror sits enthron'd,

Still in his heart compassion dwells,
Near the memorials of his wound.

N