CCLXI. GOD's Readiness to give all Things argued from the Gift of his Son.

NOW let my Soul with Transport rise,
And range thro' Earth, and mount the skies,
And view each various Form of Good,
Where Angels hold their high Abode.

I give my Thoughts unbounded Scope;
On equal Pinions soars my Hope;
My Faith at noblest Objects aims,
And what she sees, she humbly claims.

Hath not the bounteous King of Heav'n
From his Embrace already giv'n
That Son of his eternal Love,
Who fill'd the brightest Throne above?

Behold his Hand on Jesus laid!
Behold that Lamb a Victim made!
And what shall Mercy hold too good
For Sinners, ransom'd with his Blood?

My Soul, with heav'nly Faith embrace
The sacred Cov'nant of his Grace;
Then in delightful Silence wait
The Issues of a Love so great.