CLXXXV. CHRIST'S compassionate Readiness to gather Souls.

SEE how the Lord of Mercy spreads
His gentle Hands abroad;
And warns us of the circling Foes,
That thirst to drink our Blood!

"Fly to the Shelter of my Arms,
"And dwell secure from Fear;
"Nor Earth nor Hell shall pluck you thence,
"Or reach, and wound you there".

With anxious Heart the Parent-Bird
Thus calls her Offspring round,
When horrid Vulturs beat the Air,
And Slaughter stains the Ground.

The trembling Brood, by Nature taught,
Fly to the known Retreat;
Beneath her downy Wings are safe,
And find the Shelter sweet.

But Men, alas! more thoughtless Men
Refuse to lend an Ear;
Their only Refuge madly fly,
And rather die, than hear.

They spurn the Saviour's offer'd Grace
Till they his Wrath inflame;
Then Deon lays them low
In Agony, and Shame.