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THE Reader will perceive by the preceding Preface and Recommendation, that this Work was twice printed during the life of the Author, for her benefit. After her decease, a Supplement and an interesting description of a remarkable Scene in her Life, were' added: since which EIGHT or NINE editions have

been published in England; and the present is the second American.

TABLE OF FIRST LINES.

ALL glory belongs to Jesus alone

Am I indeed born from above?
Arise, my soul, to Jesus fly,

Attend, my soul, and trembling hear,
Awake, my heart! my soul, arise!
Away my doubts, begone my fear,

Begone my worldly cares, away!
Behold, he comes, the Saviour comes,
Be merciful, O God, to me,
Bring all the brutish and unwise
By holiness and watchful care,

Chasten'd I am from day to day,
Christian, wouldst thou in grace excel,
Come, each desponding, drooping soul,
Come, O my doubting soul, attend,
Come, view the field of love divine,
Condemn me not, most gracious God,

Deceivers will affect t' appear

'Gainst thee, thou Holy, Just, and Wise,
God and his law are my delight,
God of iny days, God of my nights,
Good news these blessed words impart
Grace will to every duty bind,

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Haste that delightful, awful day
Hear this, ye fav'rites of the Lord,
High in the Heavens doth God reside,
How are my powers all tun'd to mourn
How oft doth beauty lead to sin,
How should the morning of my days
How suitable this word to me,

I fear the God of Heaven and earth,
I languish for a siglit

I, Jesus, am ascended high,
In this extreme distress of soul,
Is this thy will, and must I be,
Is this unpleasant cup now given
Is Jesus evermore the same?
I think my table richly spread,

Jesus exalts his fav'rites high,
Jesus, I now address my throne,
Jesus, my Advocate and King,
Jesus, my Hiding-place thou art,
Jesus my mourning soul doth lead,
Jesus, the great, the mighty God,
Jesus, thou God of nations, bend
Jesus, thy love is still my theme,
Jesus, when I can see thy face,

Let all my anxious cares be gone,
Let all the heavenly hosts rejoice,
Let me adore his boundless grace,.
Let me lie prostrate on the ground,
Let not the learned and the wise
Let others, wrapt in self-conceit,

1.et praise employ my heart and tongue:
Like Enoch I would seek to be,

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Look, O my soul, within the veil,
Look unto me, the Saviour cries,

Lord, can a helpless worm, like me,
Lord, captivate my every thought,
Lord, I confess my guilt and shame,
Lord, is not this my one desire,

Lord, is it not my soul's desire

Lord, search and try this heart of mine,
Lord, 'tis enough, at length I own
Lord, what am I without thy love?
My God, for I can call thee mine,
My God, how restless is my mind!
My life declines, my strength is gone,
My soul, what dost thou here?

No man nor angel can compare
No more of works I vainly boast,
Now have I spent in sighs and tears
Now let me from this world retire,
Now let my faith grow strong and plead
Now let my faith look through her fears,
Now let my soul adore and praise
Now may the God of boundless grace,
Now shall my soul adore the grace
Now, whilst I try my heart,

O could I find some peaceful bower
O could I to Jerus'lem go,
Of rest I hear, of rest I talk,
Often, great God, I've heard of thee,
Oft has my soul in secret bless'd
O God, how mournful is my case!
O happy souls that love the Lord,
O let Jehovah's liberal hand

let me lay my anger by,

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O soul-reviving word,

O thou, who shin'st in bright abode,

O what a vain and empty world is this!

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Salvation's work is done,

Say, is this wild, corrupted nation
Shew me the soul to doubts expos'd,

Tell me no more of earthly toys,
Thee will I love, my dearest Lord,
The Lord of lords, and King of kings
The rain descends, the tempests rise,
The Triune God above,

Thine anger, Lord, how short the stay,
This blessing Lord, to me impart,-
This promise is to sinners made,
This wretched heart will still backslide,
Thou art acquainted with my heart,
Though I of sinners am the chief,
Thou God of justice and of grace,
'Tis my Beloved's awful voice;
To God I'd seek in each distress,

To Him that brought salvation nigh,
To him, to him, whose love hath wrought
To thee, again my gracious God,
To thee, my God, I make my moan,
To us, to us a child is born,
Tremble, my soul, fall down before
Turn, O my soul, from Moses turn,

Unfertile, intricate, and strange,

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