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[From the New York Christian's Dlagazine.]

WHY, swells my full heart, with sad presage o'erllowing

As lonely i muse o'er life and its woes? The storin's howl without, and the winds loudly blowing.

Are calm to the feelings that break my repose. Ah, why busy Fancy, in haste to transport me

O'er the wide peopled earth to find sources of grief? Why w War's sanguio'd plains tbus incessantly court me,

When thou, even thou, canst not picture relief Why lead me to prisons, to dungeons, to gallies,

Ard show me the victims of tyrannic power, Where baughty Ambition and Passion's wild sallies

Make life's lengthen'd mis’ry the sport of an hour? I need not thy visious to swell the sad measure,

Or point out the source of our pains and our woes: In each heating bosom lies hid the dark treasure,

Whence spring all the sorrows that break my repose. Sip! parent of evil of ev'ry description,

From thy baneful influence on miseries flow; Though' fools make a mock,' and pronounce it a fiction,

To thee all our tears and our anguish we owe. In the childhood of Nature, in Eden's fair bowers,

Pale Care was a stranger while thou wast unknown; On Joy's tranquil bosom soft stole the sweet hours,

Ere Sin was engender'd and lopocence fluwo. How sad the reverse! Ah, how chang'd man's condition!

Now evils unnumber'd crowd lile's little span; Wbile, urg'ů by fell Malice and wanton Aubinong

• Man pluoges his sword in the bosoin of man! Ye children of Folly's enchanting delusions,

Du no secret lerrors e'er break your repose,
While je barbour the fiend, whose destructive intrusions

Are the source of all crime, and of all mortal woes!
But, oh! shail a soul that has tasted of pardon,

Has wepe lor the sorrows and sins of mankind, On Caiv'ry's sad wouni, in Gethsemane's garder,

Seen Justice and Mercy so sweetly comubind! Shall a soul so enlighten'd, so favour'd of Heaven,

Admit the four monster, Humanity's stain ? Tear oper the wounds by stern Justice once given,

And crucify Jesus again and again? Heart sickening picture! yet let me review it

'Till the veil sball he drawfrom my own darken'd soul; Till, humbled in duit, soy'reign grace shall renew it,

And the Spirit of Jesus enlighien the whole ! Then hasten, par Jesus, onr nature befriending,

To purge the owo children, and conquer thy fues: To Earth's 'urnost tinuts thy banner extending;

O sigo a release tu Humanity's wocs!

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to the Memory of a much-lamented Friends
Oft have I heard the sullen tempest roll,

And seen the gathering clouds begirt the sky,
Give day's meridian orb a long controul,

And draw a veil o'er Nature's laughing eye;
Yet the revolving hours with int’rest large repay
Charms which a short lived frown had borne away.

But when the awful flash of fell disease

*Precedes the long resounding peal of Death,
Ah! not th' uplisted heart, or hendel knees,

Avert the stroke, or stay the fluttring breath!
Then God is deaf to prayer! - Rash mortal stay,
Revolving years will bring the Resurrection Day!

Then will that mystic voluine he unseald,

Which we in vain have sought to open here;
And sov'reign love and wisdom be reveal'a

In scenes whore unbelief read wrath and fear : *
And where our distant view suppos'd a tottering base,
Behold a fabric to Jehovah's praise !

That heart with pure philanthropy which glow'd,

Those lips whence Wisdom's heavenly dew-drops fell;
The heach, the hands, which ceaseless toil bestow'd,

The baneful seeds of vice in youth t expel; . .
The vital current chilled, no more they move ,
lo works of sacred piety and love!

Ah, fatal stroke!-- Ab! why in life's full pow'r,

Most such a friend to virtue, grace, and truth,
i Epter his rest ere yet the evening hours

Who now shall watch, and warn, and guide our youths'
Recall that question! God, that grace who gave,
Still lives, still reigns, onnipoteot to save!
· Well may we weep, and such a loss deplore;

Insensibility were here a crime:
But Faith's strong optics stretches to explore

Bright realms of bliss, beyond the lapse of time;
And though a pious, active, gen'rous mortal dies,
Seeks to the fount of bliss for new supplies!
My soul, the sad, the solemn stroke revolve,

Lei sober recollection trace the past,
With holy grief, but with a wise resolve,

His course to follow, while the day shall last;
Catch the celestial fire, its influence tind,
To expand, enlighten, rectify the mind!

M. Y.

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Farewell to the World. FAREWELL poor world! with all thy J'arewell, poor world, I want no more : toys,

Thy fading glories to adore; And alliny transitory joys;

To seek for happiness in thee For ever may our friendship cease, In future, be it far from me! For in thy all I find so peace!

Farewell, poor world, farewell to all Farewell, poor world! for aye farewell! That ihou dost Peace or Pleasure call! No more in ny affections dwell; In Christ I've pleasure, peace, and joy: For ever hostile be my heart

Thou canst not give, nor canst destruy. To all, poor world, thou canst impart.

A. A.

6. AOLD, Printer, Greville Street, London.

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OCTOBER, 1810.



RICHARD PEARSALL was born at Kidderminster, in Worcestershire, August 29, 1698: he received his academical education at Tewkesbury, in Gloucestershire. The first ten years of his stated ministry were spent at Bromyard, in Herefordshire; from whence he removed to Warminster, in Wiltshire, where he continued 16 years. His last abode in our world was at Taunton, in Somersetshire; at which place he was minister about 15 years, when he finished his course with peace and holy joy, Nov. 10, 1762. Where he was known he was respected as a man, beloved as a Christian, and revered as a minister. Few men have been more honoured with usefulness through life ; and being dead, he yet speaketh in his valuable and highly-esteemed writings. As the design of this Memoir is not so much to eulogize the man as to glorify God in hiin, we will present our readers with a few extracts from his Diary.

The following description of his views and feelings, in the prospect of engaging in the Christian ministry, we would earnestly recoinmend to the attention of students in similar cire camstances:

Dec. 18, 1718. As I am now setting out as a candidate for the sacred office of the ministry, I would set apart this day for prayer, that God would be pleased, out of his infinite goodness, to make me an instrument in his hand of proinoting his honour and glory, and the good of souls! I ain sensible of my own weakness and inability to perform this office. aright: Tain insufficient of myself to do any thing good or accepta able in the eyes of God, - I can be the author of nothing but sin! How much of that pollution, guilt, and sin, tirat naturally cleaves to every one, do I experience in every religious duty! If then I am not able to perforım any good work of inyself, how much less to perform so great a work as that XVIII.


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