LXIV. Beholding Transgressors with Grief.

ARISE, my tend'rest Thoughts arise;
To Torrents melt my streaming Eyes;
And thou, my Heart, with Anguish feel,
Those Evils, which thou canst not heal.

See human Nature sunk in Shame;
See Scandals pour'd on Jesus Name;
The Father wounded thro' the Son;
The World abus'd; the Soul undone.

See the short Course of vain Delight
Closing in everlasting Night;
In Flames, that no Abatement know,
Tho' briny Tears for ever flow.

My GOD, I feel the mournful Scene;
My Bowels yearn o'er dying Men;
And fain my Pity would reclaim,
And snatch the Fire-brands from the Flame.

But feeble my Compassion proves,
And can but weep, where most it loves:
Thine own all-saving Arm employ,
And turn these Drops of Grief to Joy.