The Believer's perfect beauty, free acceptance, and full fecurity, through the imputation of Chrift's perfed righteousness, though imparted grace be imperfect.

HAPPY foul, JEHOVAH's bride,

The Lamb's beloved fpoufe, Strong confolation's flowing tide Thy Hufband thee allows. In thee, though, like thy father's race, By nature black as hell; Yet now, fo beautify'd by grace,

Thy Hufband loves to dwell, Fair as the moon thy robes appear,

While graces are in dress: Clear as the fun, while found to wear

Thy Husband's righteousness. Thy moon-like graces, changing much, Have here and there a spot: Thy fun-like glory is not fuch,

Thy Hufband changes not. Thy white and ruddy vefture fair

Outvies the rofy leaf; For 'mong ten thoufand beauties rare Thy Hufband is the chief. Cloth'd with the fun, thy robes of light

The morning rays outshine; The lamps of heaven are not fo bright,

Thy Hufband decks thee fine. Though hellish finoke thy duties ftain,

And fin deform thee quite, Thy Surety's merit makes thee clean, Thy Hufband's beauty white. Thy pray'rs and tears, nor pure, nor good,

But vile and loathefome feem;

Yet gain, by dipping in his blood,
Thy Husband's higħ esteem.
No fear thou starve, though wants be

great,

In him thou art complete:

Thy hungry foul may hopeful wait,

Thy Hufband gives thee meat. Thy money, merit, pow'r, and pelf, Were fquander'd by thy fall; Yet, having nothing in thyself,

Thy Husband is thy all. Law-precepts, threats, may both befet To crave of thee their due; But juftice for thy double debt Thy Husband did purfue. Though juftice ftern as much belong As mercy to a God; Yet juftice fuffer'd here no wrong,

Thy Hufband's back was broad. He bore the load of wrath alone,

That mercy might take vent; Heav'n's pointed arrows all upon

Thy Hufband's heart were spent. No partial pay could justice still,

No farthing was retrench'd; Vengeance exacted all, until

Thy Husband all advanc'd. He paid in liquid golden red,

Each mite the law requir'd, Till, with a loud, "Tis finished,

Thy Husband's breath expir'd. No procefs more the law can 'tent; Thou ftand'ft without its verge, And may'ft at pleasure now present

Thy Hufband's full difcharge. Though new-contracted guilt beget

New fears of divine ire;

Yet fear thou not, though drown'd in debt,

Thy Hufband is the payer. God might in rigour thee indite Of highest crimes and flaws; But on thy head no curse can light, Thy Hufband is the cause.

Cbrift

Chrift the Believer's Friend, Prophet, Prieft,King, Defence,Guide,Guard, Help, and Healer.

DEAR foul, when all the human race
Lay welt'ring in their gore,
Vaft numbers in that difmal cafe
Thy Husband paffed o'er.
But pray, why did he thousands pafs,

And fet his heart on thee?
The deep, the fearchlefs reafon was,
Thy Hufband's love is free.
The forms of favour, names of grace,
And offices of love,

He bears for thee, with open face,

Thy Husband's kindnet's prove. 'Gainft darkness black, and error blind, Thou haft a fun and fhield; And to reveal the Father's mind,

Thy Hufband-Prophet feal'd. He likewife, to procure thy peace,

And fave from fin's arrest, Refign'd himself a facrifice;

Thy Husband is thy Priest. And that he might thy will fubje&, And fweetly captive bring, Thy fins fubdue, his throne erect, Thy Hufband is thy King. Though num'rous and affaulting foes, Thy joyful peace may mar, And thou a thousand battles lofe,

O baifam pow'rful, precious, rare,
Thy Hufband's fa red blood;
Which freely from his broached breaft
Gufh'd out like pent-up fire.
His cures are beft, his wages leaft,
Thy Hufband takes no hire.
Thou haft no worth, no might, no
His favour to procure:
[good,
But fee his ftore, his pow'r, his blood;
Thy Hufband's never poor.
Himself he humbled wondrously

Once to the lowest pitch, That bankrupts through his poverty Thy Husband might enrich. His treasure is more excellent

Than hills of Ophir gold;
In telling ftore were ages fpent,

Thy Hufband's cann't be told.
All things that fly on wings of fame,
Compar'd with this, are drofs;
For fearchlefs riches in his name

Thy Husband's doth ingrofs. The great IMMANUEL, God-Man,

Includes fuch store divine; Angels and faints will never fcan

Thy Hufband's golden mine. He's full of grace and truth indeed,

Of Spirit, merit, might; Of all the wealth that bankrupts need Thy Hufband's heir by right. Though heav'n's his throne, he came from thence

To feek and fave the loft: Whatever be the vast expence, Thy Hufband's at the cost. Pleas'd to expend each drop of blood, That fill'd his royal veins, He frank the facred victim ftood;

Thy Hufband fpar'd no pains. His coft immenfe was in thy place,

Thy freedom cost his thrall; Thy glory coft him deep difgrace, Thy Hufband paid for all.

The Believer's fafety under the covert of Chrift's atoning blood and powerful interceffion.

WHEN Heav'n proclaim'd hot war

and wrath,

And fin increas'd the ftrife; By rich obedience unto death, Thy Hufband bought thy life. VOL. III.

The charges could not be abridg'd
But on thefe noble terms.
Which all that prize are hugg'd amidst
Thy Husband's folded arms.
When law condemns, and juftice too
To prifon would thee hale;
As fureties kind for bankrupts do,
Thy Hufband offers bail.
God on these terms is reconcil'd,
And thou his heart haft won;
In Chrift thou art his favour'd child,
Thy Hufband is his Son.
Vindictive wrath is whole appeas'd,

Thou need'ft not then be mov'd; In Jefus always be's well pleas'd,

Thy Hufband's his Belov'd. What can be laid unto thy charge, When God does not condemn? Bills of complaint though foes enlarge,

Thy Hufband answers them. When fear thy guilty mind confounds, Full comfort this may yield; Thy ranfom-bill with blood and wounds Thy Hufband kind has feal'd. His promife is the fair extract

Thou haft at hand to shew; Stern juftice can no more exact,

Thy Husband paid its due.
No terms he left thee to fulfil,

No clog to mar thy faith;
His bond is fign'd, his latter-will

Thy Hufband's feal'd by death.
The great condition of the band
Of promife and of bliss,

Is wrought by him, and brought to hand,

Thy Husband's righteousness. When therefore prefs'd in time of To fue the promis'd good, [need Thou haft no more to do but plead Thy Hufband's fealing blood. This can thee more to God commend, And cloudy wrath difpel,

Than e'er thy finning could offend; Thy Hufband vanquish'd hell. When vengeance feems, for broken laws,

D