Prepare, my Soul, 'gainst that Triumphant day,
Adorn thy self with all that's Heavenly gay,
Put on the Garment, which no spot can stain,
And with thy God! thy King! and Father! Reign;
When all the Joyful Court of Heaven shall be
One everlasting day of Jubilee;
Make my Soul fit but there to find a room,
Then when thou wilt, Lord let thy Kingdom come.
THY WILL BE DONE
With all submission prostrate I resign
My Soul, my Faculties, and Will to thine;
For thou, Oh Lord, art Holy, Wise, and Just,
And raising Man from forth the common dust,
Hast set thy Sacred Image on his Soul,
And shall the Pot the Potters hand controul?
Poor boasting feeble Clay, that Error shun,
Submit and let th' Almighty's Will be done.
IN EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN.
For there the Angels, and the Saints rejoyce,
Resigning all to the blest Heavenly Voice;
Behold the Seraphins his Will obey,
Wilt thou less humble be, fond Man, than they?
Behold the Cherubins and Pow'rs Divine, }
And all the Heavenly Host in Homage joyn; }
Shall their Submission yield, and shall not thine? }
Nay, shall even God submit to Flesh and Blood?
For our Redemption, our Eternal good,
Shall he submit to stripes, nay even to die }
A Death reproachful, and of Infamy? }
Shall God himself submit, and shall not I? }
Vain, stubborn Fool, draw not thy ruine on,
But as in Heav'n; on Earth God's Will be done;
GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD,
For oh my God! as boasting as we are,
We cannot live without thy heavenly care,
With all our Pride, not one poor Morsel's gain'd,
Till by thy wondrous Bounty first obtain'd;
With all our flatter'd Wit, our fanci'd sense, }
We have not to one Mercy a pretence }
Without the aid of thy Omnipotence. }
Oh God, so fit my soul, that I may prove
A pitied Object of thy Grace and Love;
May my soul be with Heavenly Manna fed,
And deign my grosser part thy daily bread.
AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES
How prone we are to Sin, how sweet were made
The pleasures, our resistless hearts invade!
Of all my Crimes, the breach of all thy Laws
Love, soft bewitching Love! has been the cause;
Of all the Paths that Vanity has trod,
That sure will soonest be forgiven of God;
If things on Earth may be to Heaven resembled,
It must be love, pure, constant, undissembled:
But if to Sin by chance the Charmer press,
Forgive, O Lord, forgive our Trespasses.
AS WE FORGIVE THEM THAT TRESPASS AGAINST US,