Pluck'd up, whose growth is not from Thee.
'Tis not the garden, and the bow'rs,
Nor sense and forms, that give to flow'rs
Their wholesomeness, but Thy good will,
Which truth and pureness purchase still.

Then since corrupt man hath driv'n hence
Thy kind and saving influence,
And balm is no more to be had
In all the coasts of Gilead;
Go with me to the shade and cell,
Where Thy best servants once did dwell.
There let me know Thy will, and see
Exil'd Religion own'd by Thee;
For Thou canst turn dark grots to halls,
And make hills blossom like the vales;
Decking their untill'd heads with flow'rs,
And fresh delights for all sad hours;
Till from them, like a laden bee,
I may fly home, and hive with Thee

TO CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

Farewell, thou true and tried reflection
Of the still poor, and meek election:
Farewell, soul's joy, the quick'ning health
Of spirits, and their secret wealth!
Farewell, my morning-star, the bright
And dawning looks of the True Light!
O blessed shiner, tell me whither
Thou wilt be gone, when night comes hither!
A seer that observ'd thee in
Thy course, and watch'd the growth of sin,
Hath giv'n his judgment, and foretold,
That westward hence thy course will hold;
And when the day with us is done,
There fix, and shine a glorious sun.
O hated shades and darkness! when
You have got here the sway again,
And like unwholesome fogs withstood
The light, and blasted all that's good,
Who shall the happy shepherds be,
To watch the next nativity
Of truth and brightness, and make way
For the returning, rising day?
O what year will bring back our bliss?
Or who shall live, when God doth this?
Thou Rock of Ages! and the Rest
Of all, that for Thee are oppress'd!
Send down the Spirit of Thy truth,
That Spirit, which the tender youth,
And first growths of Thy Spouse did spread
Through all the world, from one small head!
Then if to blood we must resist,
Let Thy mild Dove, and our High-Priest,
Help us, when man proves false or frowns,
To bear the Cross, and save our crowns.
O honour those that honour Thee!
Make babes to still the enemy!
And teach an infant of few days
To perfect by his death Thy praise!
Let none defile what Thou didst wed,
Nor tear the garland f