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produce? Why, it causes every gene- , rent, done by the Rev. Dr. Adam roos man to give up willingly a part Clarke. of bis possessions towards ameliorat- 15th March, 1825.' ing the condition of such unfortunate wretches. If this were all true, it “Do not think that I require all would be well enough; but it may be this from your Holiness, witboat offernearly all error. It may exist as a ing any thing on our part; very far picture, more in the human imagina- from it. I acknowledge we should tion than on the tablet of truth. not expect you to make so great a

That some good may arise from the sacrifice of your pretensions, unless labours of missionaries, I do not deny, others abandon, on their side, all that I have already allowed it; but let the they have of the same kind, and of the gond be imagined of a temporal kind, same nature. If your Holiness rewhich arises from man ; and of an noonce infallibility, it is very just that eternal kind, which originates with the Protestant Churches should reGod. Men are called children of one nounce also incontestable authority. parent, and a parent who doth as it If you abandon the Council of Trent, pleaseth Him, among the “armies of let the Dutch also abandon the Synod heaven and the inhabitants of the of Dort, and let all others banish from earth." His pleasure is the welfare religion all kinds of merely human deof His children, and His love cannot cisions. If you cut off the Inquisition, be chained down by mere haman let them suppress pecuniary fines, impassions. It is not the situation of prisonments, and the whole train of a man, that exhibits or excludes him secular and worldly artillery. If you from the eye of Omniscience. It is oblige all the noblemen among you to not Europe only, or Britain particu- bow the knee, and render homage to larly, which receives the rays of the the name of Jesus Christ; on the other Sun of Righteousness; but His beams | side, let Calvin, Luther, Zuinglius, extend to all. The system of the Knox, Laud, Baxter, &c. and all other Divine Government must so far ex- idols of the people, prostrate themceed the grovelling ideas of mortals, selves before the Saviour of the world.” as the beautiful assemblage and barmony of the heavenly bodies exceed

APHORISMS FROM THE WRITINGS OF the turbid chaos which formed the

THE Rev. R. HALL, OF LEICESTER. first state of creation. I must now conclude my remarks ;

(Continued from col. 795.) and if I have succeeded in shewing 29.-It requires but little reflection to the improbability of thousands or perceive, that whatever veils a future millions of poor mortals being neces world, and contracts the limits of ex. sarily placed in dependence, for future istence within the present life, mast happiness or misery, on the caprice tend, in a proportionate degree, to of their ignorant fellow-creatures, Idiminish the grandeur, and narrow the have not expended a few words in sphere, of human agency. vain.

30.– The idea of Deity is composed of the richest elements; it embraces,

in the character of a beneficent Parent, MUTUAL ACCOMMODATION RECOM

MENDED TO PROTESTANTS AND rable in wisdom, whatever is awful in CATHOLICS.

authority, whatever is touching in

goodness. MR. EDITOR,

31.-It is the moral relation which SIR,—Thinking that the article, “Pro- man is supposed to bear to a superior testants and Catholics Contrasted," power; the awfulidea of accountability, which appeared in your Imperial Maga- the influence which bis present disposizine for March last, col. 255, may to tions and actions are conceived to have many readers appear abstruse and in- upon bis eternal destiny, more than any conclusive, I have herewith sent you superiority of intellectual powers aban elucidation, taken from a letter of stracted from these considerations, Sir Richard Steele, addressed to Pope which invest him with such mysterious Clement the Eighth; a translation of grandeur, and constitute the firmest which you will find in the Wesleyan guard on the sanctuary of human life. Methodist Magazine for March cur- 32.-The happiness which religion

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Aphorisms, by the Rev. R. Hall.-Poetry. crocurrerererererererererer confers in the present life, are bless- l'until the Christian profession, on the ings which it scatters by the way, in one hand, is reduced to a sound and its march to immortality.

healthy state ; and scepticism, on the 33.-It is the very essence of the other, exhibits nothing but a mass of religious principle to preside and con- putridity and disease. trol. 34.-Religion, on account of its inti

POETRY. mate relation to a future state, is every man's proper business, and should be his chief care.

LINES 35.-The primary truths of religion Addressed to Two Infant Daughters on the Death are of such daily use and necessity,

of their Brother. . that they form not the materials of

LITTLE prattlers on each knee, mental luxury, so properly, as the food | Let me dry the falling tears; of the soul,

Tears that flow from sympathy, 36.-In improving the character, Feeling for your parents' cares. the influence of general knowledge

Stay not brother's bappy spirit, is often feeble, and always indirect; Let it take its peaceful fight, of religious knowledge, the tendency Joys eternal to inberit, to purify the heart is immediate, and Beaming with celestial light. forms its professed scope and design. Pretty innocents, alas!

37.–To regard religion with indif You bardly know the cause ye mouro; ference, is the mark not of a noble,

Know, the spirit takes its pass, but an abject mind, which, immersed

Never, never, to return. in sensualities, or amused with trifles, Yet be patient, time fast fleeting deems itself unworthy of eternal life. Shall restore the youth so dear, · 38.-To forego the hope of immor

Not on earth, but heaven, meeting,

Live for ever with him there. tality without a sigh; to be gay and sportive on the brink of destruction, Hush, and soothe your fatber's anguish, in the very moment of relinquishing

Fondly clasp him in your arms, prospects, on which the wisest and

Bid your mother cease to languish, best in every age bave delighted to

Use yoor little artless charms. dwell, is the indication of a base and

Tell them you shall live to bless them, degenerate spirit.

Live to wipe away their tears,

And your love shall still caress them, 39,-All the discoveries of the gos

In the future vale of years. pel bear an intimate relation to the

TYRO. character and offices of the Saviour; from him they emanate, in him they centre; nor is any thing we learn from "HE KNOWETH THE WAY THAT I the Old or New Testament of saving

TAKE.” tendency, further than as a part of the I do not know, nor can I say, truth as it is in Jesus. The neglect of

While on tbis globe terrene,

What will befall me in my way considering revelation in this light, is

Through life's tempestuous scene; a fruitful source of infidelity.

What various snares lie thick around, 40.- Viewing Christianity in no To draw my feet in folly's roand. higher character than a republication of the law of nature, men are first led

of this I am assur’d,

That dangers on me wait, to doubt the importance, and next the

Many bave been allar'd truth, of the discoveries it contains; an To quit the passage strait. easy and natural transition, since the Almighty Saviour, be my stay, question of their importance is so While travelling through the thorny way. complicated with that of their truth,

Sufficient 'tis for me, in the Scriptures themselves, that the Along the desert wide, most refined ingenuity cannot long Since all is known to thee, keep them separate.

If thou wilt be my guide, 41,-Natural religion, were it capa

And wilt in safety bring me through,

Thy lovely countenance to view. ble of being carried to the utmost perfection, can never supersede the ne

I'd trust alone in thee,

And seek no other friend, cessity of revealed.

For thou art all to me, 42.-Infidelity possesses the pro

My author and my end. perty of attracting to itself the morbid

Depending on thee, I'm secure, humours which pervade the church, And shall unto the end endure. A. B. ON THE WELSH BARDS, PUT TO

DEATH BY KING EDWARD. On seeing the beautiful Ruins of Slaugham-place,

Susser. The Remains of a Noble Mansion of (Occasioned by reading a Defence of that Action a Family named Covert,who flourished in in col. 815 of the Imperial Magazine.) the Reign of King Henry the Third. BY JOHN GORTON.

O SLAUGHAM-Place, when distant far from

thee, AND shall the bards be unlamented then, My mem'ry ost will bring thee near to me; Who fell so bravely in the cause of freedom ? When I in food idea shall retrace Shall virtae bave no sigh, and drop no tear, Tby ruinated walls, which ivies grace. When the sad record of their wo is read ? Once thoa, no doubt,wast pleasure's fond resort, Shall pity be so stifled when their hap, And here, methinks, fond fasbion held her So undeserv'd, is told, -their massacre

court; At which the page of history well may blush, When festive joy was heard within thy walls, At sanguinary Edward, fierce and cruel ? Where now the bat resides, the night-bird And shall these sons of song, whose wild harps

calls. rung

Yes, in the days of thy festivity, : In praise of liberty; whose bosoms glow'd Love, peace, and pleasure, may hare dwelt in With patriotic zeal; wbose deeds conspir'd,

thee. Boldly to check an impious tyrant's progress, And oft the sound of harmony and joy Be, in this age of light, contemn'd, degraded,

Might, night and day, the hand and mind em. Their deaths applanded, and the barbarous

ploy; mandate,

When the gay dancers, and the motley tribe, That sign’d their bloody warrant, justified? With raptore bail'd the bridegroom and the Then to the golden dreams of love of country

'bride. And kind, farewell,-farewell the noblest pas And here, perhaps, as time was marching on, sions

The bappy pair bebeld their firstborn son ; Tbat bave ennobled man in ev'ry age.

And thonght they now could need no other joy, Bat no,-it cannot be, however some

When, lo! to blast their bliss, death snatch'd May radely treat their ashes, soil their

the boy, memory;

Oh Death!-relentless tyrant,-nature's foe,(How vain th' attempt to soil !) yet shall their

Say–have not bere thy darts laid many low? fame

Perhaps the widow's bcart, bere sunk with Endure (as long as liberty shall be priz'd)

grief, Untarnish'd ; and their names shall still exist, Or the rich orphan wept, and sought relief. As the devoted band, who song the songs For 0, too sure, the gay and gilded dome Of freedom sweetly, and whose warbling lyres Can ne'er elude distress !--Ah no!—'twill come. Nothing could still but death, death violent; Here, tho' in pomp array'd, mid riches stor'd, As glorious minstrels, who disdain'd to live, Thy iomates oft perbaps on sorrow pored. When 'twould be deem'd disgraceful to sur. Say, have not here th' attendants upon life, vive

Pain, sickness, perjary, distress, and strife, Their own and country's rights. Talk not of Alternate fill'd thy rich possessor's breast, Edward,

The low domestic, or the noble guest ? His arms, bis conquest! See the Druids'] And, precious thought, here too might chance

to dwell, Here must his blood-stain’d laurels droop and Pare piety, with joy anspeakable.. die ;

For thou, ó heav'n-born friend ! art not conWhile theirs will bloom to all eternity.

To low, inferior sons of human kind.

But tho' the poor are oft enriched by thee,

Thoa'rt sometimes found with rank and royalty. ST. MATT. CHAP. VIII.

Pleas'd with the hope, that holy zeal and grace

Dwelt here, I hail thy ruins, Slaugham-place! The furious tempest rose-and the wild wave

Where are the beads which plann'd thy first Swept on the bark where holy Jesus slept.

design, His fearful followers woke him- Master, and nature's beauties did with art combine? save,

Where now the hands which rear'd thy stately Oh! save us, or we perisb !” He who kept

walls, The stormy deep was there :-the Saviour said, Thy battlements raised up, and paved thy halls? “Why are ye fearful, ye of little faith ?”

Where now the festive train which fill'd the Then rose, and at his voice the waters fled,

place, The winds were bush'd to peace, and not a Adorn'd with beauty, innocence, and grace? breath

Of all who ever did in thee reside, Distarb'd the calm profound. Oh! Master This only now remains,—They liv'd-and died. still,

The bold designer, and the labouring man, When storms of care and sorrow roand me Have reach'd the goal their earth) y race have press,

ran; May the blest words my acbing bosom fill, The master, and the builder of the dome, And thy rebuke my bursting sighs repress,

Have ceas'd decaying in the darksome tomb; “Why art thou fearful ?” wben the power Have moulder'd long to dust, their native soil,

| Nor know the troubles now of worldly toil. That awed the stormy deep, is ever tbine.

But hence arises in the thinking breast
M. A, R. This serious question,--are their souls at rest?

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That are divine,

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Are all who once dwelt here, from sorrow free,

And enter'd on a blest eternity?
Alas! the utmost stretch of charity

| 'Tis evening,~Venus sheds her softest beams
Will scarce allow that hope to dwell with me. Upon the earth,- and leads the heavens along;
Yet the great, solemn, awful day of days | Superior to the rest she seems,
Will bring to light the secrets of this place; of all the twinkling points and orbs that throng
Tremendous truth!-the secrets of each beart | The ethereal vault --Oh! listen to my song:
Will then be open laid ;-no mystic art Tell me, oh tell me, what is thy design?
Will then avail to hide from heaven's great | Wert thou form’d merely on this world to

shine? Who knows our inmost thoughts, and whence Or art thou peopled like this globe of ours, they spring.

Thy mountains green, thy valleys deck'd with Almighty Builder of the human frame,

flowers? In thy blest book may I but find my name. Or the abode of the departed blest, Nought will it then avail, if I began

Where kindred friends and weary pilgrims My race in gilded dome or cottage span;

rest? The obief of wbich I then shall boast, will be These, these are wonders, mysteries, now conThat I'in a sinner sav'd by grace most free.

ceal'd, Woolwich.

And in this world to man must never be re

T. C.


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St. John, CHAP. XI.

“I am the resurrection and the life,
He who believes on me shall never die;"

| Now has stern winter stript each tow'ring tree, Tbese, Master, were thy words, and still rely |

And not a flow'r is seen to deck our plains, My bopes unmov'd upon them, 'mid the strife But still thy cheek a beauteous flow'r retains, of earthly care,—and then I follow thee

Tbe lily and the rose still bloom with thee. To the cold grave, where Lazarus is laid;

Now the pois'd lark forsakes the lofty air, I see thy tears, and Mary asks thine aid;

In which he lately tun'd his little throat. The aid is present--" That thou heardest me,

Where is the blackbird's distant voice and Fatber, I thank thee,”—and thou criest aloud

where To Lazarus, « Come forth!” He lives, he | Is Philomela's sweet nocturnal note? breathes ;

The fragrant woodbine and the blasbing rose, The funeral garb is rent; the many wreathes

Which lately round her little dwelling grew, Of death are torn away; and the pale shroud

Lie buried deep in winter's drifting snows; Wbilst wondering forms around the Saviour But genial spring their beauties will renew. move,

But, ah! Maria, when thy beauty's o'er, And own the presence of Almighty Love.

'Tis doom'd, alas! to blossom bere no more. M.A.R.

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BEAUTEOUS are thy rising hills,

Yes, gentle Pity, yes, thou art
And the gently murmuring rills,

The true-born child of love;
Flowing through the meads so green, To soften the proud human heart,
Oh, how charming is the scene !

Thoa quit'st the realms above.
Let me have a cot beside
Calder's gently-flowing tide;

Thou art misfortune's sweetest friend,
Where, along its sinuous way,

Susceptible of wo;
Oft at evening would I stray,

The deep-drawn sightby breast doth rend,
While the trembling moon-beams pale Thine eyes with tears o'erflow.
Quiver'd o'er each hill and dale;
This sweet season I would choose,

The gem, which sparkles on thy face,
And I'd court tbe pensive muse;

Oatvies the diamond's glare,
But when winter's surly blast

And, like the sun, it shines with grace,
O'er each bill and dale is cast,

Effalgent, warm, and fair.
To my cot I'd then retire,

Through the dark caverns of the mind,
By the cheering evening fire.
There with Milton I'd converse,

The empire of Old Night,

Or sweet Thomson's muse rehearse;

Thy genial rays impart, most kind,
Or the tedious hours employ

A cheering flood of light.
On gentle Bloomfield's “ Farmer's Boy." | Despair in wild disorder flies
But if nobler themes invite,

Ai thy harmonious voice;
When come on the shades of night,

And hope returns from yonder skies,
Then with Herschel I can stray

To make the soul rejoice.
O'er the ample milky-way;
View each planet in its sphere,

Yes! thine it is to give relief,
Rolling through the tardy year.

Thy liberal hand bestows
Thus amusement I shall find;

The balm to heal the wounds of grief,
These will please my pensive mind;

A cordial for her woes.
Tbese will point tbe certain road
To the throne of nature's God. T.C. Dartmouth.

J. M. M.



The sun had set, the birds retir'd,
HAİL! lovely queen, descendant of the skies, The ox bad songbt its stall,
Fair Happiness, wbere dost tbou deiga to The farmer's boy return'd full tir'd,

The dew began to fall; Say where on earth thy much-sought Eden The breeze had ceased to more the air, lies?

'Twas nature's trial to be fair. Vouchsafe, sweet maid, a child of dust to Each flow'r was lightly wet with dew, tell.

The stars above bad met, Fall oft tby form I've pictur'd to my mind;

The sky assum'd a crimson hue, To make thee mine, I've striv'n with eager

To paint the sun just set;

The May-bug on the ether sails, grasp ; But thou hasi mock'd me, faithless as the wind,

And sweetly sung the nightingales. Thou'st prov'd a vision under fancy's mask. The leaf assum'd a darker hue,

The flowers fold around, Thee long I've sougbt, through various paths

Nature sure bore a nature new, to find,

And eve with sweets was boudd. By bope led on to tread each devious road;

I asked a boy, “Wbat charm’d the plain?” A weary tray'ller still, I'm far bebind,

The boy replied, “'Twas Twilight's reign." Yet anxious still to reach tby blest abode.

W.M. HIGGINS. In pity bear a mourner at thy shrine, Nor mock me with thy.visionary bliss;

SONNET.-TO RIETAULT ABBEY. O !condescend to bid me call thee mine,

These Ruins are delightfully situated near Say, wilt thou bless me, beaven-born Hap

Hemsley, Yorkshire, in a romantic valley, piness?

presenting wood, rock, and water; and are “Know, erring man, thy suit is urg'd in vain, unquestionably the finest arcbitectural speci

Where Folly rules I can't my joys impart; men of monastic remains in that county. I with fair Virtue hold my balcyon reiga, Hoar relict of magnificence and pow'r ! Can never bless the irreligious heart.

What though thy sumptuous scenes no more “ To Wisdom's precepts beed, frail child of

surprise; clay,

Yet still thy shatter'd walls and sinking tow's Pursue the road the Man of sorrows' trod; | Present Elysium to the poet's eyes : The gospel chart, to me, points out the way, And midst that fane, his feeling soul to pour, And thou wilt find me in the smiles of God!” | When all is calm as summer-ev'ning skies; Dartmouth.


Oh! it is heaven-or bliss which cannot cloy; 'Tis sweet as love !-unutterable joy.

The “arch-crush'd” sanctuary, strew'd . THE POET'S WISH.


With Gothic grandear, and old Norman (WRITTEN FOR A LADY'S ALBUM.)

strength, LADY! accept a poet's lays,

In desolation, prompts the thought profound; Unskill'd in fattery and praise,

And teaches foolish man the fleeting length Which bards too frequent blend;

Of buman glory, in its proadest might, No laurel'd wreath his theme inspires, Which time and death shade in oblivion's night. His muse a loftier meed desires,

"G. Y. HARRISON. That valued meed-your friend.

Thirsk, Oct. 17th, 1825.
If wishes can avail on earth,
They must be those that give the birth

To holy, ardent pray’r,

WRITTEN ON A BLANK-PAGE IN DON JUAN, That rise perfum'd with incense sweet, Reader! seek'st thou for passion's song? 'tis Above yon azare sky,—and meet

here, A gracious welcome there.

And robed in all the charms that diction gives, Such shall be mine, and such for you, Yea, here are strains might please a cypic's ear, As truth sincere, and ceaseless too,

They whisper of a breast where Genius lives. Till life's last spark expire,

Seek'st thou the wit, the sarcasm, and the And when death's chills assail my heart,

sneer, And patare's music-pow'rs depart,

Which proud and high-born satirists impart? I'll breathe the strong desire.

Here they seem throned in their proper sphere; No fame, as wit and beauty, win

Are blighting as the Indian's poison'd dart. My wishes prompt, por good within

Seek'st thou to see all-conquering lore arThe range of mortal ken,

ray'd May these be thine, if grace allow;

In vest as rich as sheets of evening's sky? But higher good I wish for now,

It wanders here beneath the minstrel's shade, And shall be wish'd for then.

To plange in crime, and heave the madd’ning On earth may heaven's soft blessing shine

sigh. Around your path,—till notes divine, But if thou seek'st for strains to raise thy mind By saints and seraphs sung,

Above all earthly hopes, then bence-away-Employ your pow'rs where God resides, Here thou may'st seek, but here thou canst not So prays the bard, who now subscribes

find Himself your friend .

What thou desir'st,- for 'tis a sensual lay. Folkestone. J. YOUNG.


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