Where the great King's transparent throne
Is of an entire jasper stone;

There the eye

O' the crysolite,

And a sky

Of diamonds, rubies, chrysoprase,

And, above all, Thy Holy Face

Makes an eternal clarity.

When Thou Thy jewels up dost bind-that day Remember us, we pray.

That where the beryl lies,

And the crystal 'bove the skies, There Thou may'st appoint us place Within the brightness of Thy face; And our soul,

In the scroll

Of life and blissfulness enrol,

That we may praise Thee to eternity.

Hallelujah.

That after his departure hence in peace, and in Thy favour, his soul may be received into Thine everlasting kingdom.

"Hickes' Devotions."

D

I.

EAR Jesu! When, when will it be

That I no more shall break with Thee?

When will this war of passions cease,
And let my soul enjoy Thy peace?

II.

Here I repent, and sin again;
Now I revive, and now am slain :
Slain with the same unhappy dart,

Which, O! too often wounds my heart.

III.

When, dearest Lord, when shall I be
A garden seal'd to all but Thee?
No more expos'd, no more undone;
But live, and grow to Thee alone?

IV.

'Tis not, alas! on this low earth That such pure flowers can find a birth : Only they spring above the skies,

Where none can live till here he dies.

V.

Then let me die, that I may go,

And dwell where those bright lilies grov! Where those blest plants of glory rise, And make a safer paradise.

VI.

No dangerous fruit, no tempting Eve:
No crafty serpent to deceive;
But we like gods indeed shall be ;—
Oh let me die that life to see.

VII.

Thus says my song: but does my heart Join with the words, and sing its part?

Am I so thorough wise to choose
The other world, and this refuse?

VIII.

Why should I not? What do I find

That fully here contents my mind?
What is this meat, and drink, and sleep,

That such poor things from heaven should keep?

IX.

What is this honour, or great place,
Or bag of money, or fair face?

What's all the world, that thus we should
Still long to dwell with flesh and blood?

X.

Fear not, my soul; stand to thy word,
Which thou hast sung to thy dear Lord ;
Let but thy love be firm and true,
And with more heat thy wish renew.

XI.

Oh may this dying life make haste

To die into true life at last ;

No hope have I to live before,

But then to live, and die no more.

XII.

Great, ever-living God, to Thee,

In essence one, in Persons three;

May all Thy works their tribute bring,
And every age Thy glory sing.

Amen.

A COMMENDATORY PRAYER FOR A SICK PER

SON AT THE POINT OF DEPARTURE.

O Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of just men made perfect, after they are delivered from their earthly prisons; e humbly commend the soul of this Thy servant, our dear brother, into Thy hands, as into the hands of a faithful Creator, and most merciful Saviour; most humbly beseeching Thee, that it may be precious in Thy sight. Wash it, we pray Thee, in the blood of that immaculate Lamb, that was slain to take away the sins of the world; that whatsoever defilements it may have contracted in the midst of this miserable and naughty world, through the lusts of the flesh, or the wiles of Satan, being purged and done away, it may be presented pure and without spot before Thee. And teach us who survive, in this and other like daily spectacles of mortality, to see how frail and uncertain our own condition is; and so to number our days, that we may seriously apply our hearts to that holy and heavenly wisdom, whilst we live here, which may in the end bring us to life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ Thine only Son our Lord. Amen.

Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of just men made perfect, after they are delivered from their earthly prisons ;

You

Habington.

spirits, that have thrown away
That envious weight of clay,
Which your celestial flight denyed;
Who by your glorious troopes supply
The winged hierarchie,

So broken in the angells' pride.

O you, whom your Creator's sight
Inebriates with delight;

Sing forth the triumphs of His name,
All you enamored soules; agree
In a loud symphonie,

To give expression to your flame.

To Him His owne works relate,
Who daigned to elevate

You 'bove the frailtie of your

birth;

Where you stand safe from that rude warre

With which we troubled are

By the rebellion of our earth.

While a corrupted air beneath

Here in this world we breathe,