XX. The Saint encouraging himself in the LORD his GOD.

JEHOVAH, 'tis a glorious Name:
Still pregnant with Delight;
It scatters round a chearful Beam,
To gild the darkest Night.

What tho' our mortal Comforts fade,
And drop like with'ring Flowers?
Nor Time nor Death can break that Band,
Which makes Jehovah our's.

My Cares, I give you to the Wind,
And shake you off like Dust;
Well may I trust my All with him,
With whom my Soul I trust.