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And mock their vain pretence;

Away," they cry, " and trust no more, "For help from power divine!

"The triumph of thy youth is o'er:

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Thy hope in God resign!

"Lo! He abhors thy riper age,

"Which guilt and follies stain;
"No more thy prayers His ear engage;
"Thy vows he shall disdain :"

But thou, O Lord! art strong to save,
Thou shalt lift up my head;

Though round the stormy billows rave,
And death's dark terrors spread!

In youthful strength I sought thy shrine
Thy glories to display:

Oh shield me then with love divine
In my declining day!

Forsake not thou my hoary hair,
'Till I thy power have shewn
To all that breathe the vital air,
And ages yet unknown!

From out the dark abyss of woe
Restore me to the light;

And bid the streams of comfort flow,
To cheer my fainting sight;

My soul on wings of joy upborne
To thrones of greatness raise:
O then! with each returning morn,
My song shall hymn thy praise!

Oh, Thou! Oh, Israel's Holy One!
How shall my lips rejoice,

How shall my harp its loveliest tone
Join with the tuneful voice:

With fervent love my soul shall glow;
And her best powers employ;

By Thee redeem'd from endless woe,
Restor'd to endless joy!

J. P.

The following Poems are from Herbert's Temple, noticed in our

last Number.

SUNDAY.

RESTORE to God his due in tithe and time:
A tithe purloined cankers the whole estate.
Sundays observe: think, when the bells do chime,
"Tis angels' music; therefore come not late;
God then deals blessings: if a king did so,
Who would not haste, nay, give to see the show

When once thy foot enters the Church, be bare,
God is more there than thou: for thou art there
Only by his permission. Then beware
And make thyself all reverence and fear.

Kneeling ne'er spoiled silk stocking: quit thy state,
All equal are within the Church's gate.

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most:
Praying's the end of preaching. O be drest:
Stay not for th' other pin: why, thou hast lost
A joy for it worth worlds

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part:

Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither.
Christ purged his Temple: so must thou thy heart;
All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together
To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well;
For Churches are either our heav'n or hell.

The Sundays of man's life

Threaded together on Time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal glorious King.
On Sunday heav'n's gate stands ope:
Blessings are plentiful, and rife,
More plentiful than hope.

THE THANKSGIVING.

OH, King of grief (a title strange, yet true,
To Thee of all kings only due),

Oh! King of wounds! how shall I grieve for Thee,
Who in all grief preventest me?

Shall I weep blood? Why, thou hast wept such store,
That all Thy body was one door.

"My God, my God, why dost thou part from me,'

Was such a grief as cannot be.

Shall I then sing, passing thy doleful story,

And side with thy triumphant glory?

But how then shall I imitate thee, and

Copy thy fair, tho' bloody hand.
Surely I will revenge me on thy love,
And try who shall victorious prove.
If thou do'st give me wealth, I will restore
All back unto thee by the poor.

If thou dost give me honor, men shall see
The honor doth belong to thee.

I will not marry; or, if she be mine,
She and her children shall be thine.

My bosom-friend, if he blaspheme thy name,
I will tear thence his love and fame.

My music shall find thee, and ev'ry string
Shall have its attribute to sing,
That altogether may accord in thee,
And prove one God, one harmony.
If thou shalt give me wit, it shall appear,
If thou hast giv'n it me, 'tis here.

Nay, I will read thy book, and never move
Till I have found therein thy love;

Then for thy passion-I will do for that-
Alas! my God, I know not what.

EASTER.

Recit. Rise, heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise

Without delays,

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise

With him may'st rise.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part

With all thy art.

Who bore the same.

The cross taught all wood to resound his name

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song,
Pleasant and long:
Or, since all music is but three parts vied

And multiplied,

O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part,
And make up our defects with his sweet art.
3 H

REMEMBRANCER, No. 43.

Air.

I got me flowers to strew thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But thou wast up by break of day,

And brought'st thy sweets along with thee.

The sun arising in the East,

Tho' he gives light, and th' East perfume, If they should offer to contest

With thine arising, they presume.

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Purge all my sins done heretofore,
For I confess my heavy score,
And I will strive to sin no more.

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me,
With faith, with hope, with charity,
That I may run, rise, rest with Thee.

Teach me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see ;
And what I do in any thing,
To do it as to Thee.

Not rudely, as a beast,

To run into an action;

But still to make Thee prepossest,
And give it its perfection.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold;

For that, which God doth touch and own,
Cannot for less be told.

REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Reviewers Reviewed. British Review, No. 36, Art. XVII.

A WRITER in the British Review, No. XXXVI. under the ostensible pretence of noticing "a brief memoir of the late Rev. W. Richardson, Sub-chanter of York Cathedral," has thought fit to dilate in no measured terms, on the moral preaching of the Clergy of the Established Church. No man is ignorant, that the term moral preaching is now used as a term of reproach, as a designation of offence imputed to a large body of the English Clergy: but the precise nature of the offence has not been ascertained, nor is it likely to be defined in the pages of the British Review. Mention indeed is made of "a cold and lifeless system of ethics, little better than the heathen instruction which it superseded, and not always as interesting as the ancient philosophy

J. P.

in the medium of its conveyance :" and this system is called "the religion of the day," in which Mr. Richardson began his labours, (A.D. 1769.) This system was pronounced by Archbishop Secker not "sufficiently evangelical," and the Archbishop was followed in 1790 by Bishop Horsley, who, while he admitted the improvement which had taken place, still spoke of "the dry strain of moral preaching, too much in use, and of the erroneous màxims on which the practice stands," and which were not then " sufficiently exploded." It is not meant to dispute the judgment of Archbishop Secker, or of Bishop Horsley, whose opinions are recited as authority by the British Reviewer. But there is no presumption in counteracting the assertions of an anonymous reviewer, or in asking, without any reference to the preachers of a higher and a better class, whether they,

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