CXXVII. Misimproved Priviledges, and disappointed Hopes.

ALAS, how fast our Moments fly!
How short our Months appear!
How swift thro' various Seasons hasts
The still revolving Year!

Seasons of Grace, and Days of Hope
While Jesus waiting stands,
And spreads the Blessings of his Love
With wide-extended Hands.

But O! how slow our stupid Souls
These Blessings to secure!
Blessings, which thro' eternal Years
Unwith'ring shall endure.

Beneath the Word of Life we die;
We starve amidst our Store;
And what Salvation should impart
Heightens our Ruin more.

Pity this Madness, GOD of Love,
And make us truly wise:
So from the pregnant Seeds of Grace
Shall glorious Harvests rise.