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366
POEMS.
Though foolish men its worth deny,
Experience gives them all the lie ;
Though Deists and Socinians join,
Jesus still lives, and still is mine.
Tis here the happy difference lies,
My Saviour reigns above the skies,
Yet to my soul is always near,
For he is God, and every where.
His blood a sov reign balm is found
For every grief and every wound ;
And sooner all the hills shall flee
And hide themselves beneath the sea,
Or ocean, starting from its bed,
Rush o er the cloud-topt mountain s head,
The sun, exhausted of its light,
Become the source of endless night,
And ruin spread from pole to pole,
Than Jesus fail the tempted soul.
