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their sins, shall depart to misery,

POETRY. while all who bid farewell to time in a state of intimacy with God, shall

MONODY immediately enter into untold happi- ! On the Death of the Rev. WALTER GRIFFITH, 6 ness; not in any of the distant or

venerable Christian Minister. near, in any of the brilliant or comparatively dreary planets belonging to Beati sunt, qui in Domino moriantur! our system, (for of this half-foolish

STAR, that tremblest on ether high, conjecture the bible says nothing,)

Shedding thy beams o'er a jeweld 'sky, but in “bell,” or “heaven.” What

Say, on yon cload of silver brightness, they say about these states, evidently | Doth a spirit ride on its misty wbiteness, agrees with what they uniformly de Swiftly careering the vaults of blae, clare respecting the eternal condition

od bigher, till it glanceth from viow?

Lo! again I behold it fluttering there, of all men, as might be amply proved,

In mystic form, a pale flush on the air! if necessary. And as to the objection “ that if all souls, on the death of the

Down from the vast and illamin'd skies

I torn to the earth mine acbing eyes, body, depart to heaven or hell, there

| And the silent orbs of glittering light can be no need of the judgment;" it I leave to cheer the waning night. is sufficient to remark, our bodies will rise, and become eternal residences for A solemo stillness reigneth around, their former inhabitants and com

Unstartled by aught of joyous sound,

No eastern daylight is streaking the sky, panions-in sin or holiness; then our

But the moon, with her glist’ning cloud-fring'd bliss or misery will be consummated;

eye, and the scriptures say there will be a Smileth sad on the early morn, day of judgment.

As ligbt streams down from her yellow urn;

Lone and deserted the streets appear, The following texts may be con

With dim lamps twinkling here and there; sidered as a specimen of what this

Far off is beard, by the burial wall, heaven-inspired volume says on this The drowsy watchman's sepulchral call, interesting subject, to preserve all | His creaking lantern swaying about, rational persons from unprofitable Flickering its dingy lustre out. speculations in a matter of such vast

But there are some, who, startled from sleep, moment. I do not deem it necessary

Are pacing the pavement with hurried step; to fill your pages with the words, the | They speak not-their hearts are oppressid reference being judged sufficient for with wo, that part of the public, that will be

And wan grief hath clouded their brow. likely to peruse this paper. It is pre

They walk to yon boase, in whose apper flight

Is seen a dusky and mournful light; sumed (and joy arises from the pre- It shines like the lonely beacon's glare, sumption) that all who read the instruc- Fitfully flashing through troubled air. tive pages of the “Imperial Magazine," Ay! Death, in that silent and dismal room not only possess these unfailing re

Hatb anfari'd his banner amid the gloom, cords which the grace of God has fur- |

Awful and noiseless its waving fold

Fanpeth the sofferer faint and cold. nisbed, and frequently read them, but | His friends are standing round his bed, that they will feel it no toil to turn to Wiping the dews from his pale forebead; the places mentioned, and read them He hath bless'd them, and bade them adieu,carefully, with their preceding and

and his eye succeeding contents. With this hope, Hallelujah! bis soul hath burst its prison,

Shatteth on troubled mortality! I mention the following texts :

To the portals of beaven triamphantly risen, 2 Kings ii. 11. Luke xvi. 22, 23, 24, 28. | Away, and away! amid shining skies, Chap. xxiii. 43. John xvii. 24. Acts Glory bath blazed on his dazzled eyes. vii. 59. Romans v. 2. 2 Cor. v. 8. Phil. / His airy structure doth turn to light, i. 23. and Heb. xi. 14, 16. On the

He is cloth'd in robes of angel white !

His cares and anguish dissolve into wind, whole, it is infinitely important that Which he casteth behind, far, far behind. we seek with all our souls that full His floating pinions have borne him bome, salvation for which Christ died, which Lo! glory streams from the sapphire dome! is freely offered in the word, and The gates are closed, the sky is blue, without which none can enter into

Cold, liquid, barren to mortal view! eternal joy. All beyond this is un- To thee, O Griffith, in death it was given, profitable speculation, and the most That thy spirit should glance on the lastre of plausible theory can afford no ground

heaven; of certainty.--I am yours, &c.

Then it eagerly long'd for its native skies, .

And swelled with freeing agonies, R. TABRAHAM. While bursting its way Inverness, 1825.

From encumbering clay,

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Then dying, sank into silver fountains

Of soft and shining brightness ; Or swiftly roam'd o'er misty mountains With steps of unearthly lightness ;

Or lar'd in the crimson flood,

The rich and precious blood,
Of thine elder Brother shed for thee,
Which streamed erst from Calvary!

No look out there, nor threatening fort, To interrupt the hardy band;

Again the vet'rans put to sea,

Wbile comrades with the booty flee, And all is done as it was plann'd.

An holy radiance beam'd o'er thy clay,
Gilding thy features with a smile,

Placid, serene, and beautiful,
Which Death's stero grasp could not tear

away!

Then, wbat were the cold damp grave to thee,

Ils bitter silence and dreariness? The shroud and the coffin thoa canst not see, Nor feel the sepulchre's loathsomeness !

THE RUINED ABBEY.

(By W.M. HIGGINS.) Now risen, mistress of the night, Dimly you sbine, yet sweet delight

You tbrow upon tbe scenery fair; The circling hills would seein to pierce

The low'ring clouds that thicken there, And aim a tempest wild and fierce. The winds now rise, now whistle by, And shake the elms that flourish nigh.

Wbile now and then the moon will peep, And lighten round tbe ivy'd wall,

Herself withdraws, in silence deep,
And round her throws her diogy shawl.
Yet louder still the tempests blow,
And darker still the dark sbades grow;

The vivid lightnings flash around
The ancient abbey's massy walls,

The thunder rolls with awful sound, The torrent now with vengeance falls.

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The tempest o'er the pale wan moon
Now wipes away the watery boon;

Again unmantled, shining bigh,
She lights the abbot's ruin'd ball,

Clouds now disperse, and wanton fly, The moonbeams on the abbey fall.

lie,

Shall bring from its cells an embalmed sigh ;
They want no pompous marble to tell
That they love and cberish thy memory well;
No cold inscription to measure their wo,
Or praise the dear dust tbat mouldereth below.
Thy name is engraved upon their heart,
And cannot, except with death, depart:
None sball erase the record there,
Till their moveless dast reclines on its bier;
And then, dropping down to sweetest repose,
Find the grave shuts out all earthly woes!

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THE FUNERAL PROCESSION, On viewing from my chamber window the

Funeral Procession of one who died with the Small-Pox in the morning, and was interred at midnight.

(By E.T. DYKE.) 'Tis now the midnight hoar, thick darkness

spreads Her sable mantle over half the world, And silence reigos,--save when the watch

dog's yell Breaks on the still of night,-or shrieking owl Is heard continuous, -yet, lo! e'en now The sounds of footsteps fall opon mine ear, And there's a moving light tbat shines afar, Which gives the gloom around a darker hue! Nearer it comes--and by its glimmering rays, I mark the funeral pall of one who fell By the grim tyrant at the bud of morn! (In youth he fell, and left a hapless oneÀ widow'd wife-whose tears e'en now bedew Her husband's image in one infant son.) With hurried steps the “ bearers' move

along, As though half fearful, lest the air around Should be infected with the dire contagion. Quick to the grave they bear their barden

straigbt, Whose hungry jaws close on its victim soon, While sounds no solemn knell, nor is there

heard The bursting sigb,-nor yet the loud lament! "Tis stillness all!--save when upon the breeze Floats the load orison,--and the surpliced

priest

Yet still the moon at times will peep, And lucid paint the foaming waves;

The night birds join their borrid 'shriek, And winds disturb the watery graves; But see the solitary bark,

That stems the tempest drear and dark, And dashes through the rising waves.

Sbe reacbes now ber much-wisb’d port, Unlades her treasures on the strand,

Proclaims aload, that mortals are bat dust!

THE CONVICT. Ob, who can mark tbis closing scene of death!

(Written after witnessing the Execution of Tbas half enshrouded in night's murky veil, The time! the place! the isolated gloom!

Fergusson.) And all its awful dark solemnity! Nor feel anchill’d, unawed at the reflection, “ His bark's at anchor,-its sails are forlid, That, long before to-morrow's glorious sun

| It hath 'scap'd the storm's deep cbiding, Shall set within the canopy of heav'n,

And, safe from the buffeting waves of the We too may rest in death!-our sun of life

world, Go down, nor rise again for ever!

In the baven of peace is riding." Yet we shall rise again on that dread morn

ALARIC A. WATTS. Now known to none,-wben at th’Eternal's word

He stept to meet his final foe, Myriads shall start to life,—and yon vile dust, With a smile and a sparkling eye; And ev'ry mute inbabitant of the tomb

And the passing-bell, witb its tope of wo, That now lies shrouded in mortality,

Seem'd to raise not his parting sigh. Shall rise and those who did their Master's

He glanc'd on the multitude beneath; will,

Yet he look'd as calm as ever; Disrobed of earth, and brightly clothed in glory,

| Though the solemn sound foretold his dea Sball join the angelic bosis — whose chant

He gave not one fearful sbiver. shall be, “O death, where is tby sting? Grave, where

Why? because in that awful hour, thy victory?”

His God was there to sapport him;

And be knew that soon to the blissful bow'r Highworth, April 12, 1826.

Ethereal forms would escort him.

Yet, who can say what his soul endard,
BIRTH-DAY LINES,

W bile he heard his own death-kaell;
March 1st, 1825.

And saw the light which on him pogr'd,

As he came from the chilling cell!
AGAIN the circling months bring round the day
When first I enter'd on life's dangerous way.

Perhaps he once bad enjoy'd the dream
Again revolving time increases years,

1 of his childhood's hours, and mus'd beside Which at my birth were usber'd in with tears.

The bending branch, o'er the noisy stream, By these sad tears a prelude was ensured

As the colours of ev'ning died;
Of coming pains, and cares to be endured. And had felt that ecstasy which flows
A true presentiment of life's rough road,

From the seeing eye and the feeling heart; It's chequer'd scenes of evil, mix'd with good; As he gaz'd on the beauteous tint that glows, The seasons o'er and o'er are come and fied,

When the rays of the san depart. CAnd friends once loved are number'd with the But now all was nought, his view was wbere dead,)

The weeping eye is brighten'd; We see them pass, but have I them improv'd land

va And the golden sireets that dazzle there With gratitude to Him who reigos above?

By the great“ I Am" are enlighten'd. Alas! my love and knowledge, small the Like a dying saint he calınly stood, som,

And his lips they mov'd in prayer; The num'rous sins with added years bare Clos'd were bis eyes on the beartless crowd, come ;

That were assembled early there. Feeble my best resolves, my purpose weak,

The bolt was drawn-he quickly fell ; And oft, most trifling are the words I speak.

Yes, be fell from this earth to heav'n : No day I see, but swells the dread amount,

He feels no more; but who can tell
And follies oft my sleepless bours recount.

How his mother's heart is riven.
Bat there's a nobler day of glorious birth, He died, but she lives to think on bim;
When the glad soul sball quit the cambrous The dam from her offspring parted :
earth,

She sees bim hang ,-her eyes grow dim:
Transporting day, and ever blissful sound ! Oh! now she is broken-hearted !
The ray divine shall be with glory crown'd.

G. Y. HARRISON.
No tears,-po sorrows shall ibat birth attend,
The shadow'd vale has brightness at the end.

Lambeth-Road, April 11th, 1825.
Faith in a Saviour's dame sball aid my flight
Throagh Jordan's waves, into the realms of

EPITAPH on the Monument erected to the light.

Memory of General STRINGER LAWRENCE, Till then, the signal's given, thou God of love, in the Parish Church of Dupobideock, In ways of wisdom make me swiftly move; Devonshire. Nor yield to Satan's spares, nor nature's sway, BORN to command, to conquer, and to spare, Which leads the careless soal so ost astray. As meroy mild, yet terrible as war, Bat blest with guidance, bright from heaven's Here Lawrence rests: the trump of bopost fame bigb'throne,

From Thames to Gapges has proolaim'd his 'll trust thy faithfulness, and journey on,

name. Thy promise plead, Thy fatare favoors claim, | In vain this frail memorial friendsbip rears; In an exalted Saviour's powerful name.

His dearest monament's an army's tears; Joyfal expecting, when this life is o'er, His deeds on fairer columns stand engrav'd, To dwell with Jesus, whom I now adore. In provinces preserv'd and cities sav'd. March 1, 1825.

He died Jan. 10, 1775, aged 78.

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THE NETTLE.-(A FABLE.) If but attentively we look In nature's wide-extended book, Explore each page with curious eye, And into every corner pry; Througbout this sublunary ball, There's nought so useless or so small, There's nought so mean, but it will still Proclaim its heavenly Author's skill; And, like the bee, a moral mind In the rank weed may honey find; Advice, instraction, may deduce E'en from the hemlock's pois'nous juice; Can trath from ev'ry flow'r exact, And wisdom from a leaf extract. Look but abroad! there's not a blade On which so oft we careless tread, Nor flow'r within the garden's round, Nor shrub within the forest's bound, Nor beast that roams the sandy plain, Nor fish that wantons in the main, Nor bird that cleaves the yielding skies, Nor insect nearer earth that flies, But to th' eolighten'd Christian's heart Some useful lesson may impart. Mark yonder unsuspecting child, All thoughtless sporting on the wild; The blue-bells tempt his little band, Beneath the bedge-row as they stand. Bat whilst be strives the prize to gain, Backward he starts, and sbrieks with pain; Unconscious of the nettle's pow'r, Its leaves be touch'd in luckless hour, And soon his fingers, swell’d and red, With burning blisters are o’erspread. It was the slightness of the touch That bart his little band so much :Had he but taken firmer hold, And grasp'd it resolate and bold, The barmless weed had lost its sting, And prov'd an inoffensive tbing ! Now ruminate awhile, and say, Does this a moral too convey ? Yes, doubtless ! when by sin betray'd, Man wanders thro' the dobious sbade, When passion rules his youthful prime, And folly arges on to crime; When the vaia world, by arts unbless'd, Instils its poison in his breast, Whilst org'd by lawless appetite, He loves the wrong, and spurns the right; Her threat'ning lash should conscience shake, And bid the trembling wretch awake, Aghast he starts! be looks witbin, And finds his breast th' abode of sin : His actions all in judgment rise, And call for vengeance from the skies. Wbither! ab, whither shall he fly? To heaven he dares not turn his eye! His own vile self he dares not view, Where shall be go? what must he do?

Ah no! he treads ber paths awhile,
And hopes to share her constant smile;
But when she talks of self subdued,
Of passions quell'd and pride withstood,
Of daily crosses, anxious cares,
Continual watchings, constant pray’rs,
Of Satan's wiles, and Satan's pow'r,
Of dark temptation's trying hour,
Denials frequent, inward strife,
And all the Christian warrior's life;
And when she says, contempt and scorn .
With patient meekness must be borne,
Content from ev'ry thing to part
That's near and dear unto his heart;
Ev’n life itself be must resign,
(If God require,) and not repine.
He shrinks; the prices he dares not pay,
But deeply sigbs, and turns away!
The terms he marks as too severe,
And deems the heavenly maid austere:
And soon in pleasare's giddy round
Her warning voice once more is drown'd.
Fool ! bad be firmly onward press'd,
Success his efforts would have bless'd;
For those who seek with honest mind,
And faith sincere, will surely find;
And ev'ry trial, borne aright,
Will strengthen for each future fight.
Subdued desires content bad gir'a,
Whate'er the lot assign'd by Heav'n!
His passions quell'd, and humbled pride,
(Oh rich exchange!) bad peace supplied ;
And all his crosses, all his cares,
All bis temptations, watchings, prayers,
Permitted by his God to prove
How strong his faith, bow great his love!
These would but exercise the soul,
And bring it nearer to its goal!
Oh, then the present hour embrace!
Begin that arduous, glorious race!
For know, a crown, the winner's prize,
Awaits thee far above the skies;
And He who for thy ransom bled
Shall place that crown upon thy head !

THE MISSIONARY'S DEPARTURE.

(Lines addressed to G. BENNETT, Esq. of the

London Missionary Depatation, on his Visit to the South Seas.)

By J. MONTGOMERY, Esq.
Go!--take the wings of morn,
And fly beyond the utmost sea,
Thou shalt not feel thyself forlorn,

Thy God is still with thee;
And where his Spirit bids thee dwell,
There, and there only, thou art well.

Forsake thy father-land,
Kindred, and friends, and pleasant home;
O'er many a rade barbariau strand,

In exile though thou roam,
Walk there with God, and thou shalt find
Double for all thy faith resigned.

See, see! Religion's beavenly form
Approach amidst this mental storm;
With goiding hand she points the way
That leads from darkness into day:
She proffers aid, but what the price?
Does sbe require no sacrifice?
Will she bestow her rich reward,
Her precepts, if we disregard ?

Launch boldly on the surge;
And, in a light and fragile bark,
Thy path through food and tempest urge,

Like Noah in the ark
Then tread, like him, a new world's shore,
Thiue altar build, and God adore.

Leave our Jerusalem,

Review.-The Christian Philosopher, Jehovah's temple and his rest : Go, where no Sabbath brake on them

or the Connexion of Science and PhiWhom Pagan gloom oppress'd,

losophy with Religion. By Thomas Till bright, though late, around their isles Dick. 8vo. pp. 525. Whittaker. The Gospel-dawn awoke in smiles :

London. 1825.
Amidst that dawn from far,
Be thine expected presence shown,

We are pleased with the conviction, Rise on thein like the morning star,

tbat Mr. Dick, in the volume before In glory-not thine own;

us, has conferred a benefit on manAnd tell them, when they bail the sight, kind. To the rising generation it will Who turn'd thy darkness into light:

prove essentially advantageous, by Tell them, His hovering rays

compressing a fund of information Already gild their ocean's brim,

within a narrow compass; and multiEre long o'er beaven and earth to blaze;

tudes who have reached the years of Direct all eyes to Him, The Sun of Righteousness, who brings

maturity, by perusing this work, will Mercy and healing on His wings.

have an opportunity of augmenting

their store of knowledge. Nor thou disdain to teach

It is pot to be understood, that the To savage bordes, celestial truthTo infant tongues, thy mother's speech

author of this publication lays claim Ennobling arts, to youth;

to an exclusive originality of thought, Till warriors Aling their arms aside,

or pretends to explore regions over O'er bloodless fields the plough to guide. which no predecessor has ever travelTrain them, by patient toil,

led. On the contrary, he has availed To rule the waves, subdue the ground, himself of long established truths, bas Enrich themselves with Nature's spoil,

enriched his pages by the researches With barvest-tropbies crown'd, Till coral reefs 'midst desert seas

of others, and placed before his readers Become the true Hesperides.

the result of laborious experiments, Thus then in peace depart,

and tedious calculations, without And angels guide thy footsteps !- No:

puzzling them with the perplexity of There is a feeling in the heart

either process. Many truths and That will not let thee go :

scientific facts, which are here preYet, gomlhy spirit stays with me;

sented to our view, the author has Yet, go-my spirit goes with thee!

collected from the voluminous writings Though the wide world between

of his contemporaries and precursors; Our feet conglobe its solid mass;

and a considerable portion of his Though lands and waters intervene,

merit consists in the care of selection, Which I must never pass; Though day and night with thee be chang’d,

the order of arrangement, and that Seasons revers’d and clime estrang'd

condensation of expression, which as

sists comprehension, without infringYet one in soul-and one In faith, and hopes, and purpose yet

ing on perspicuity. Many striking God's witness in the heavens, yon san,

observations are, however, purely Forbid thee to forget

original both in thought and language, Those from whose eyes bis orb retires,

so that they at once communicate When thine his mornivg beaaty fires !

new ideas, and impart lustre to others When tropic gloom returns,

with which the understanding has Mark whai new stars their vigils keep, been somewbat familiar. The work How glares the Wolf, the Phænix burns;

itself is the production of a mind exAnd, on a stormless deep, The Ship of beaven—the Patriarch's Dove,

tensively illuminated with science, and The emblem of redeeming love:*

seriously impressed with the truths of While these enchant thipe eye,

revelation, through which it has been Ob think how often we bave walk'd,

taught Gaz'd on the glories of our sky

“ To look through nature up to nature's God.”' Of higher glories talk'd; Till our hearts caught a kindling ray,

The author's primary design apAnd buro'd within us by the way.

pears to be, that of connecting the Those bours, those walks are past!

result of scientific research with the We part-and ne'er again may meet

pure principles of the sacred writings, Why are the joys that will not last,

so that wbile the mind is irradiated So perishingly sweet? Farewell! we sorely meet again

with the beams of the former, it should In life or death :---Farewell, till tben!

be led to consider it as subordinate to

the latter, both aiming at the same *The constellation called Crux, or the Crosiers, point, and mutually co-operating to

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