No. II. An HYMN to CHRIST JESUS, the Eternal Life

Where shall the tribes of Adam find The sovereign good to fill the mind? Ye sons of moral wisdom, show, The spring whence living waters flow.

Say, will the Stoick's flinty heart Melt, and this cordial juice impart? Could Plato find these blissful streams, Amongst his raptures and his dreams?

In vain I ask; for nature's power Extends but to this mortal hour: 'Twas but a poor relief she gave Against the terrors of the grave.

JESUS, our kinsman, and our GOD, Array'd in majesty and blood, Thou art our life; our souls in thee Possess a full felicity.

All our immortal hopes are laid In Thee, our surety, and our head; Thy cross, thy cradle, and thy throne, Are big with glories yet unknown.

Let Atheists scoff, and Jews blaspheme Th' eternal life, and JESUS' name; A word of his almighty breath Dooms the rebellious world to death.

But let my soul for ever lie Beneath the blessings of thine eye; 'Tis heaven on earth, 'tis heaven above, To see thy face, to taste thy love.