The Theme, the Joy, how then shall Man fustain ?
Oh the burst Gates! crush'd Sting! demolish'd Throne!
Laft Gafp! of vanquish'd Death. Shout Earth and Heaven!
This Sum of Good to Man.

YOUNG'S NIGHT THOUGHTS.

Corrected and Revifed; with an Introduction and additional Notes by

the EDITOR.

LONDON:

Printed by FRYS and COUCHMA N, Worship-Street, Upper-Moorfields.

A N

INTRODUCTION

TO THE NEW EDITION OF THE

SCRIPTURAL POEM,

ENTITLED

CHRIST'S VICTORY, &c.

A

GAIN this Work appears, and courts anew
Th' attentive Ear of the Judicious Few,

Who pious Sentiments in Verse admire,

And Sacred Truths, which nobleft Thoughts inspire:
Thus for his Theme, this Author wifely took
The highest Subject of that bleffed Book*,
Whence we our Faith, and Hope, and Joy obtain :
(Alas, that any fhou'd that Book difdain!)

Well hath the Poet fhew'n th' amazing Plan
Of LOVE DIVINE! to rescue fallen Man;
When Juftice from her Throne began to rife,
And threaten Vengeance from the angry Skies!
But Mercy, foon her Voice did interpose,

To plead for him, who 'gainst his MAKER rofe.
Juftice the Honour of the Law maintains ;

And CHRIST in Heav'n the glorious Vitry gains!

*The Bible.

WHO in due Time defcending from Above,
Doth in our Nature further Conqueft's prove:
Born of a Virgin :—wholly free from Sin,
See him on Earth his mighty A&ts begin.
To a waste Defert by the SPIRIT led,
Where favage Beafts a deadly Terror spread;
Here forty Days he fafting did abide,

While him with guileful Baits the Tempter try'd:
But well the SAVIOUR that Deceiver knew,

And all his dire Designs he overthrew.,

Now midft unnumber'd Throngs does CHRIST appear;
And makes the Blind to fee, the Deaf to hear.
Tho' other wondrous Deeds his Pow'r effect,
Yet all his Miracles the Jews reject;

Nor will his GODHEAD own, nor him confefs
As the MESSIAH, born their Race to blefs:
Lo! Priefts and Elders wickedly combine;
Nor less than Murder is their black Defign:
Yea, all the Multitude together, cry,
Barabbas fpare, but Jefus crucify!

Thus he to Death fubmits :-but, therein we
The awful Price of our Redemption fee!

Strange Conquest, where the Conqueror must die, "And he is flain who wins the Victory."

And yet another Conqueft he muft gain,

Or all our Faith, and highest Hopes are vain.
Low in the Earth those precious Spoils are laid;
The GREAT REDEEMER'S number'd with the Dead!
His Enemies now thought themselves fecure;
A Watch they fet, and Sepulchre made fure:

But,

But, fhort's the Triumph of Infernal Foes ;
On the third Day the MIGHTY SAVIOUR rofe!
And foon to his Difciples he appear'd;

Whom they, with Joy and Transport, faw and heard:
But lo! a Cloud defcends, which bears away
The GLORIOUS VICTOR to the Realms of Day!
Where all the Heav'nly Hofts their Voices raise,
And fing His Triumphs in Immortal Lays!

Ye mourning Saints, fojourning here below,
Dry up your Tears, and for your Comfort know,
HE who afcended thus to Worlds on high,
Regards you ever with a Gracious Eye :
Who in like Manner will return again,
When you with HIM Eternally fhall reign.

P. B.