Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN ! 1 / i X TH i R t,\\ . ' /y Pei mission, to the Lord Bishop of Dromore. THE PREFACE BY HIS FATHER, THE REV. THOMAS TIIIRLW.ALL, M. A. Minister of Tavis/oek Chapel, Eroad-Covrt, fang-Acre; Lectterer of St.Dunttan, Stepney, and Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Drumart. ftonton : PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, /;/ T. Plummer, Scething-lane. 13(9. CONTENTS. Page PREFACE vii Dedication xiv On the uncertainty of Life 1 1 Thess. v. 17. Pray without ceasing & Isaiah, ii. 11. The lofty looks of man shall be hum- bled, and the haughtiness of men shall be bowed dozen, and the Lord alone shall be exalted on that day. 6 Isaiah xl. 10. Behold, the Lord God shall corns with a strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him. Behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him ! 9 Joel iii. 15. The sun and the moon thall be darken- ed, ttnd the stars shall withdraw their shining 12 Proverbs xxii. 6. Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it 16 Ilosea xiii. 1. When Ephraim spake trembling, he exalted himself in Israel ; but when he offended in Baal, he died 19 John xix. 5, Then came Jesusforth, wearing a crown of thorns and the purple robes, and Pilate saith unto (hem t ' Beheld the man .'* 2 CONTENTS. Pagt Matt. v. 57. But let your communication be yea, yea, nay, nay ; for zchatsoever is more than these, cometh of evil 27 Matt. vii. 21. Not every one that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that docth the will of my Father which is in heaven 31 Matt. iv. 9, 10. All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt full down and worship me. Go then, said Jesus unto him, get thce hence, Sutan ; for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only nhalt thou serve 35 Dan. vi. 22. My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions 1 moutltt, that they have not hurt me : forasmuch as before him innocenry was found in me, and also before thee, O King, have I done no hurt 39 Eccles iv. 5. The fool fol Jet h his hands together, and eattth his own flesh 43 1 John i. ?. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light ; zee have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son, cleanseth us from all sin 47 Isaiah xiii. 6 Behold I will add unto thy days, fif- teen years 51 Mattxxi. v. Tell ye the daughter of Zion, thy King comet ti unto thee sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass 56 CONTENTS. Page Psalm iii. 6. I am not afraid of ten thousands of the people who have set themselves against me round about 61 Mark x. 14. And Jesus said, Suffer the little chil- dren to come unto me, and forbid them not,for of such is the kingdom of God 66 Prov. xiv. 34. Righteousness exaltcth a nation 73 Eccles. xii. 1. Remember now thy Creator, in the days of thy youth 76 Isaiah ix. 6. For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given : and the government shall be upon his shoulder : and his name shall be called, Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Fa- ther, The Prince of peace 81 Matt, xxiv 50. The Lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looketh not for him, and in an hour that he is not aware of 86 1 Kings, xi. 4. Tor it came to pass ichen Solomon was old, that his wives turned away his heart after other gods, and his heart was not perfect with the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father 91 1 John, iii. 9. In this was manifested the love of God towards us : because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. 98 Psalm xix. 11. In keeping of them there is great reward 103 CONTENTS. "F-iSe Matt. xxv. 46. And these shall go away into ever- lasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal 108 Romans vi. IV.Let not sin reign therefore in your mortal bodies, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof 112 Eccles. via. 12. Though a sinner do evil an hundred times, and his days be prolonged, yet surely I know that it shall be tcell with them that fear God t rchich fear before him 116 Matt, xxviii. 6. He is not here, for he is risen 124 Prov. xxiii. 24. The father of the righteous shall greatly rejoice 1S3 On the Abuse and Profanation of the Sabbath 146 Romans vi. 23. For the wages of sin is death.- 156 An Address 165 An Eastern Tale 168 POETRY. On his eldest brother's birth day 187 !'-,' rot Boy 192 On a Piece of Ivy 195 Virtue and Vice 198 The Pleasures of Hope 210 Characters often seen but little marked. 216 PREFACE. WHILST some explanation may naturally be expected for my venturing to expose to the public eye the literary performances of a child, I am not insensible to the delicate task which I impose on myself. Still, however, the motives which induce me to launch forth this slender bark inspire the fond hope that it will be wafted in its course by a prosperous breeze; but should this hope be disap- pointed, and my easy compliance with the importunities of partial friends be disapproved by some, it will be a consolation to reflect that I alone must answer for the propriety of the publication. I am aware that it maybe arraigned on grounds of grave importance. Are not, it may be alleged, the eulogiuras Vlll PREFACE. which he will receive calculated to puff up his infant mind with vanity, to extinguish those sentiments of modesty and humility which are the bright ornaments of youth, and the lovely companions of real merit ; to check the spirit of emulation, and damp his ardour in the acquisition of knowledge ? Could I for a moment persuade myself these consequences would follow, my repentance Would be bitter indeed. No earthly consideration would make an adequate atonement. Wretched would he make his parents were the good sense with which a kind Providence has blessed him, not to raise his mind superior to such low tempta- tions. No, he has been taught a different lesson and I confidently anticipate effects the very re- verse ; that he will be stimulated to the im- provement of his talents and the pursuit of learning, and will consider this public record PREFACE. IX of his religious principles a swift witness against the future violation of them. " What a degraded character," will he reason, " shall appear in my own eyes and those of my in- dulgent friends, were 1 to sink into the lap of indolence, and disappoint their sanguine ex- pectations; but how still more degraded were ' my conduct to run counter to those maxims of piety and virtue which formed the theme of my infant pen ? No, by divine assistance, they shall be the pledges and the guardians of my integrity in every scene of temptation to which I may be eventually exposed." In the short sketch which I shall take of the young author, and his performance, I mean not to amuse the reader with anecdotes of extraordinay precocity of genius; it is, how- ever, but justice to him to state, that at a very X PREFACE. early period he read English so well that he was taught Latin at three years of age, and at four read Greek with an ease and fluency which as- tonished all who heard him. From that time he has continued to improve himself in the knowledge of the Greek, Latin, French, and English languages. His talent for composition appeared at the age of seven, from an acci- dental circumstance ; his mother, in my ab- :ee, desired his elder brother to write his thoughts upon a subject for his improvement, when the young author took it into his head to ask her permission to take the pen in hand too ; his request was of course complied with without the most remote idea he could write an intelligible sentence, when in a short time he composed that whicli is first printed, " on the uncertainty of life. From that time he was encouraged to cultivate a talent of which PREFACE. X! Jie gave so flattering a promise, and generally on a Sunday chose a subject from scripture. The following. Essays are selected from these lucubrations. His taste for poetry was not discovered till at a later period. From the specimens in the following pages, the reader may perhaps wi?h his poetic effusions had occupied a larger por- tion of the book. I regretted, when it was too late, that the number of Essays prevented me from affording a gratification which some of his manuscripts would probably have yielded. It is worthy of remark, perhaps, that his compositions cost him little apparent effort. He rarely commits an error in grammar or orthography, and such is the clearness of his Xll PREFACE. conceptions, that like Sir Matthew Hale, he seldom corrects a sentence after it is once committed to paper. Tt remains only to declare in distinct and unequivocal terms, that the following work is exclusively the production of him whose name it bears. His claim to the credit of it is as just as that of Milton to Paradise Lost, or Johnson to the Rambler. With the excep- tion of perhaps half-a-dozen verbal alterations in revising the proof sheets, the reader will peruse in the following pages every line and sentence of the young author. The only credit which his parents lay claim to is their anxious solicitude to inculcate in the minds of their children principles of reli- gion and virtue, and I indulge a hope that PREFACE. Xlll the example and instruction of a pious and virtuous mother will never be forgotten, that her anxiety to promote their temporal and eternal welfare will be abundantly rewarded, and her happiness crowned by returns of gra- titude from her dutiful, affectionate, and vir- tuous children. THOMAS THIRLWALL. MILE-END, January 23, 1809. TO THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, Thomas, Lord Bishop of Dromore. I should be unworthy of the favours jour Lordship has so liberally conferred upon me, did I let slip this opportunity of testify- ing my gratitude and respect. To you, there- fore, my Lord, as the encourager of early genius, and the common patron of literature in general, I think myself bound to dedicate these little pieces, which you have been pleased to honour with your approbation. Some of them are of an early date, but your Lordship, in consideration of the youth of DEDICATION. the author, will overlook the defects of his compositions. To say more would be an unnecessary trespass upon your Lordship's time. Flattery may expose the faults of the base and criminal, but can never elevate the characters of the great and good. I remain, therefore, with the highest esteem and veneration, Your Lordship's grateful Obedient Servant, THE AUTHOR RELIGIOUS ESSAYS, ON THE UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. OOW uncertain is life! for no man can tell in what hour he shall leave this world. What num- bers are snatched away in the bloom of youth, and turn the fine expectations of their parents into sor- row ! The young man may die by evil habits : what a grief to the parent ! what a disgrace to the child ! All the promising pleasures of this life will fade, and we shall be buried in the dust. God takes away a good prince from his subjects, only to transplant him into everlasting joys in hea- ven. A good man is not dispirited by death: for it only takes him away, that he may feel the pleasures of a better world. Death comes unawares, but ne- ver takes virtue with it. Edward the Sixth died in his minority, and disappointed his subjects, to whom he had promised a happy reign. Composed. June 30, 1804. Seven years 1 old. 1 Thess. v. 17- Pray without ceasing. GOD, although he knows our wants, yet de- sires our prayers and supplications to satisfy them; however, we must not suppose that prayer must be our constant employment, without intermission, to the end of our lives. We must admit some time for other exercises : if we were wholly engaged in prayer, the other substantial duties of religion would be ne- glected. Besides, temporal concerns are not to be totally neglected ; religion does not prohibit us from getting our living in a plain and honest way. How- ever, we shall confine our attention to the following considerations : First, The duty of prayer ; Secondly, The subject of prayer. As I have before mentioned, God will not satisfy our wants without prayer : as this is the case, pray;: is absolutely necessary ; our interest is included in B.2 it ; and can mankind be so blind to their own into- rests, as to neglect a duty which procures for them their daily bread ? It is needless to enforce the ne- cessity of tkis duty, by any further arguments: we shall therefore proceed to our second proposition. Riches, power, honour, and glory, are most men's desires, but these have not the blessing of content- ment ; our desires should be moderate and few ; nei- ther riches, nor long life, should engross our atten- tion ; we must ask no more, concerning our tempo- ral affairs, than ' Give us this day our daily bread/ We must not suppose, that, as our Saviour said, as God taketh care of the lilies of the field and the fowls of the air, he will take care of you, that he implied, that God will grant favours without praying and even labouring for them. We should only direct our prayers towards our real wants ; few and moderate wants are easily obtained ; that man's woes are small, whose wants are few. In our desires, we ought to imitate the example of Solomon; altho' we ask not for worldly wisdom, yet let us copy his moderation, and God wiU grant us both what we ask and what we ask not. Besides our temporal con- cerns, we must attend to our eternal ones, and 'lead us not into temptation' are the words of our Saviour in that excellent prayer, called The Lord's Prayer. We shall, however, conclude with the following observations, from the foregoing discourse. We should learn what our real wants are. Let us, therefore, be constant in the practice of a duty, which is the only means of procuring to us peace of mind in this life, and the enjoyment of everlasting happiness. Let not our prayers be directed towards riches, and honour, And glory, but let our prayer be ' Give us this day ur daily bread.' Compoxd Starch 17, 1805- Iight years old. Isaiah, ii. 11. The lofty looks of man shall be humbled, and the haugh- tiness of men shall be boiced down, and the Lord alone shall be exalted on that day. WE are here told of a day when the pride of men shall be abased, and the Lord of Heaven shall be ex- alted. This day is the day of judgment. In that day, indeed, shall men perceive their own weakness, and the glory of their Almighty Judge. In that day shall he come to judge the world, attended by angels and archangels; all principalities and powers being made subject to him by the Father. The kings of the earth shall bow down unto him, and all the people shall make obeisance to him. The tongues of the saints shall be employed in praising and glorifying his holy name. The very eyes of them that pic-reed him will be dazzled with his splendour. In that day 'hall men's hearts fail them through very fear, and hey shall desire the mountains to fall upon them, and the hills to cover them, but to no effect : for the eye that can discern between evil and good, can also penetrate the thickest mountains. Can the prospect of this celestial grandeur fail of mortifying the pride of men ? Do they not see the whole celestial band of saints praising and glo- rifying the man whom they despised and persecuted? Do not they behold the celestial choir crying 'Glory, honour, and power be unto the Lamb, and unto him that sitteth upon the throne for ever and ever ' ? And not only do they see this baud of saints singing it, but himself enjoying it. Can they see the man whom they despised elevated to the right hand of God, without a sense of their weakness, and his irresistible power? Can they behold him on the pinnacle of glory, without a sense of their frail nature, and his Divine Majesty ? Can we behold him with sovereign power over heaven and earth, without reflecting upon our own littleness ? Can we behold him in all his B 4 glory, without lacking into our corrupt and sinful nature, and comparing it with his divine goodness? We shall now conclude with a few suitable re- marks. We have here seen a picture of the way by which our pride will be abased, and the Lord of Heaven will be exalted. We should therefore shun pride, by frequently reflecting upon our frail and weak nature, and that none is powerful but the Al- mighty, and that glory, honour, and power, belong to the Lord alone. i March 31. 1805 Eight years old. Isaiah .xl. 10, "Behold, lite Lord God shall come "with a strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him. Behold, his reward is with him, and kis work before him ! THE Prophet here speaks of the irresistible pow- er of God over the world, and his severe, tho' just judgment. The nations of the earth, tho' they nei- ther know nor worship him, yet are bound to obey him. Neither kings nor princes are able to shelter themselves from his wrath, when he is pro- voked. His power extends, without controul,over the rnostjemote parts of the earth. No power, however absolute on earth, can reverse his Almighty decrees. He created man, and to him we are indebted for life, breath, and being. Kings and mighty princes are but as little worms in his sight. We must also not let his equity be passed over in silence; he regards all the creation as the same in value ; by his wis- 10 dom he gives justice, at d by his irresistible power he performs it. Rich and poor are the same in his sight. In his eye, the king and the peasant appear the same, without distinction. We see the rich and evil man, burning with inexpressible torments, in the flames of hell; while the virtuous, tho' poor man, is glorified and exalted to the joys of heaven. In short, his power and justice are equally the same : the first of these things makes us fear future and everlasting misery ; and the other gives us leave to hope for everlasting bliss. To conclude: we must needs be the most bold and audacious of mortals, to dare to revolt from his power, and to abuse his equity in so striking a manner. Must we not be afraid lest the earth should swallow us up, as it did the Israelites, when they wrestled a- gainst Moses and Aaron ; or that God should pour down the vials of his wnith upon our heads? Do we not shew ourselves the most audacious of mortals, in revolting from his power ? and w no sorrows ; I have discharged my paternal office, and wish for nothing more.' Such is the tranquil death of every good parent, when he has performed the im- portant duties of his station. The Lord will give him peace,, because he hath brought up his son in his way. No comfort can equal the joys of the parent who traiueth up his child in godliness; he will prove his comfort in old age, and his consolation in time of, trouble. To conclude : we should bring, up our children ip lioliivss, and instil into their youthful minds a pre- dilection tor \irtue. They are able to give us com- fort in all our troubles, if properly brought up ; and therefore we should give our children a virtuous edu- cation, or we shall entail ruin upon ourselves and our posterity. Composed Junt 53, 1805. Eight years old. Ilosea xiii. 1. When Ephruvu spake troubling, he exalted himself Z/J Israel; but u'/ien he offended in Baal, he died. GOD has never been known to refuse his grace to the contrite sinner. He has always relented at his tears, and poured down his mercy upon the penitent. The Prophet here beautifully describes the fall of Ephraim, through sin and obstinacy, and their exal- tation by repentance. By the fall of this kingdom, the destruction of the impenitent sinners is plainly foretold. Sin is the forerunner of death: but is ma- terially heightened by impenitence. Yet all this is counterbalanced by the effects of a sincere repent- ance, and a humble submission to- the will of Cod. This is not a difficult, but must be an agreeable task. Submission will be had of God, although against our inclination : and therefore we should cheerfully sub- c 2 mit to Jim, otherwise we must necessarily expose our- selves to his wrath. And, as repentance is the only means to escape punishment, it must be agreeable, and cannot be difficult; for if we resist the devil, he will flee from us. If we, like Ephraim in the time cf righteousness, humble ourselves before God, he will make the princes of the earth to humble them- selves before us, and obey us. God is a merciful fa- ther, and will give his c hildren every blessing that can be reasonably demanded, if they shew themselves hiv children indeed ; if they obey him in fear and trem-- Ming: not that we should tremble every time we hear his name, but that we should pay him the reverence due to his holy character. If our fear is temporal, it is vain. God is alone to be feared; and our Saviour saith, ' Fear not him who is able to kill the body alone, but him, who after having killed the bo- dy is able to cast the soul into hell fire.' We may know the extreme power of God, and fear him; but yet this s nothing, if we do- not obey his command- rtients, and act virtuously : for the fear of an unrigh- teous man is vain. But if a man fear God, and at the same time do righteously, then will his fear be true, and rewarded by God in the day of judgment. Our Saviour tells us that he who humbleth himself shall be exalted, and he that exalteth himself shall be abased. Therefore let us humble ourselves be- fore God, that we may be exalted to heaven, to re- ceive a crown of glory. To conclude : let us fear God, for he is great. lie hath commanded us, by the mouth of his holy pro- phet, if we ever have need of any thing at his hands, to beseech it with a trembling voice, that he may take pleasure in our petitions, and give us according to the fulness of our desires. Let us tremble at the name of God, for he is infinite in power, and will make his name great among all nations, though the world oppose it with all its force. Composed. June 30, IROo. Eight years Old. John xix. 5. Then came Jesus forth, wearing a crown of thorns and the purple robes, and Pilate saith unto them, ' Behold the man ! ' THE Evangelist here represents our Saviour wear- ing a crown of thorns and a purple robe, and appear- ing in that habit amidst a vast concourse of his tri- umphant enemies. The crown and purple robe were ensigns of government, but the enemies of Jesus did not put them on him as an acknowledgement of his dignity, but to abuse his divine mission. The crown on his head was for a punishment, and the purple robe was on him to deride his power over the Jewish nation. The Judge seemed to venerate our Saviour for his innocence, and after he had several times pro- claimed it, he at last, in the midst of all the people., exclaimed, ' Behold the man!' "We shall consider, in the first place, this declara- tion of Pilate ; and secondly, how it was received by the people. And first, we shall consider this declaration of Pilate. Jesus liad been known, by the very Phari- sees who had persecuted him, to have wrought many and great miracles. Pilate was totally ignorant of die affair. lie knew nothing of it but from Jesus and his accusers, but from them he saw that Jesus was innocent of the crimes laid to his charge, and therefore broke out in the words contained in my text. To consider the man, in whom all power, both human and divine, is vested, insulted, railed, and mocked, is affecting in the extreme. We are asked to look upon our Saviour ; what a demand! lo look upon him who is a mediator between God and Us, and yet about to die by our hands. We are re- quired to look upon him who is to save us, and to see the nature and dignity of him whom we are about to pierce. We are called upon to see the Lamb whom .re about to slay, to behohj its patience and its iu fie rings. But yet this does not hinder the majesty of his countenance from appearing; and this alone is enough to justify the declaration of Pilate. The Rc- Tier is the person we are. called to look upon. \Ve arc to view his innocence and humanity. In short, Christ is shewn to us as an innocent person, tvkoni we persecute with a malignant hatred, that we might revoke our cruel demands on his life, on the contrary, love him as our Redeemer, and please him n all things. Let us now proceed to consider how he was received by the people. One might naturally suppose that at this just demand of Pilate their cruel mouths would have ceased to call for the life of Jesus, but they were hardened in sin, and sought for nothing but the satis- faction of their revenge. Their answer was 'Crucify him, crucify him.' In short, it seems there was no ^ne more detestable in the eyes of this ungrateful people than their Saviour. All the remonstrances of the Ciovernor were ineffectual. The multitude pur- 25 sued the life of Jesus with unmerciful clamour, and would not be satisfied till Pilate had passed judgment upon him. The chief priests, scribes, and elders, in- stigated the multitude to harrass Pilate till he gave up Jesus to death. And in this they succeeded, for the multitude were blinded by them, and a spirit of ma- levolence diffused itself among them. The more ve- hemently they cried out 'Crucify him, crucify him/ in answer to the just declaration of the Roman Presi- dent. Such was the reception of a declaration, which, if it had been considered by the multitude, would have made them think of their impiety, that they were rebelling against and seeking the life of the only begotten Son of God, in whom he was well pleased. To conclude with a suitable inference. Js there any reason to doubt that we do not pursue a different con- duct from the Jews of old? May we not suppose our conscience whispering in our ears 'Behold the man!' that it bids us love him who died for us. And do we love him ? Do we not seek to crucify him again in our sins? Let us judge justly, and we shall not find y wide difference between us and the Jews of old. Therefore let us amend our conduct and love our Sa- viour, so shall we gain a crown of glory, and a seat in his heavenly kingdom. Composed July ", 1805. Eight years old. Matt. v. 37. But let your communication be yea, yea, nay, nay ; fof whatsoever w more titan these, cometh of er?7. JESUS docs not here limit our speech to the Avords used in my text, but forbids us to use any prophanc and wicked expressions. There are seve- ral things which our Saviour may be supposed to mean by * more than these,' but we shall confine our- selves to two only, first, lying; and secondly, swear- ing. And first, of lying. This crime is expressly spo- ken of in die Revelations of St. John, that all liars shall have their portion in the lake that burneth with lire and brimstone, which is the second death. Fear t)ften excites men to commit this crime, but this will 'not be allowed by Providence as a sufficient reason, and we shall have the same punishment as for a wil- iul lie. We must, with God, humbly confess our sins, for lying is of no avail with him ; but we must not deceive ourselves, God is not mocked; if we lie to deceive men our wickedness will not be concealed, for God will open it to those from whom we wish it to be hid. Truth is attended by innocence and honesty, but the liar is marked by dishonesty wherever he goes. Thus lying is a crime odious, and wicked, and the doom of all liars is fixed, and their punishments will have no end. I shall now proceed to. my second head, touching swearing. The impropriety and danger of this crime I shall now attempt to tell. The three verses prece- ding my text were spoken by our Saviour against this crime. He saith, ' Swear not at all, neither by iieaven, for it is God's throne; neither by the earth, for it is his footstool; neither by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King.' Swearing is insulting the majesty of heaven. We cannot, without the ut- most assurance, swear to do any thing, for we know not how soon we may quit this mortal state : there- fore this is very great folly. It is prophane to swear by any thing; for our Saviour saith, 'Swear not at all/ And it is as dangerous as lying, because swear- ers disobey the express commands of God. Thus folly, prophaneness,. and danger, are united together in the same crime. And what reasons have we for committing so great a crime? Has not our Saviour given us reasons why we should not swear by the things he mentions r and it is to be supposed that he can give us sufficient reasons why we should not swear at all. As we cannot do any thing of ourselves, we should cease to swear by sacred things. This al- so is a crime as detestable as the former, and as dan- gerous in its consequences. To conclude : then shall we commit such crimes, as so dangerous, foolish, and wicked ? Shall we shake off truth and innocence, and put on the mask of de- ception and lying? Or shall we swear, when our Sa- viour hath said ' Swear not at all '? Are not all liars condemned to receive their portion in hell? And shall \ve lie, as if seeking the same punishment ? Are we so- stubborn, that we cannot be brought from this crime by the menaces of God ? and do we despise them so much, as to continue in these crimes?. Surely we. cannot insult God so much ; therefore let us be per- suaded to renounce these crimes, and curb our tongues, and not prostitute our speech in such a shameful manner, for this is the worst use we can put it to. We should narrowly see and examine the im- propriety of these crimes, and we shall find them dis- graceful and abominable; we should therefore leave tbem all. Thus shall \ve escape that punishment we should have had, if we continued in those crimes,, and receive eternal glory hereafter for not committing them. Composed August 18, 180i light year* old. Matt. vii. .21. Not every one that .saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter info the kingdom of heaven ; but /if that docth the mil of my Father which is in hear en. SUPERSTITION and bigotry are not the ways to obtain salvation; but simplicity, and a true zeal for the Christian religion, arc the true characteristics of a Christian. There are two things in my text which will prove this: First, ' Not every one that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the king- dom of heaven;' and Secondly, 'but he that doeth, the will of my Father which is in heaven.' And First, 'Not every one that saith unto ine Lord, Lord,, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven.' Our Saviour may be supposed to have said this to rebuke the superstition of the Pharisees, which had arrived to such a pitch that they deemed it unlawful 52 to heal any infirmity on the sabbath-day; so that salvation cannot be obtained by an outward shew of religion alone, and God says that he likes a serious love of himself more than the sacrifices of bulls and of goats. We mock God if our religion consists in outward appearance, and we have uo real love for him. Our Saviour tells us to go to our closets, and there to pray in secret. He rebukes the- Pharisees for their "external shew of religion, and their internal wickedness;, and he tells his disciples and every one else, not to pray as the Pharisees do. They love to stand to pray in the synagogues, and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men to pray, and be praised because of it. If all our love of God consists in an outward shew of religion, we have a sin of the utmost importance to answer for, for this erimc shews him who commits it destitute of all love to God. An outward profession of religion is never wanting to complete the character of a Christian. >Vhcn we are alone we may praise God, and spend 33 our time in good and instructive thoughts; 3-rJ therefore we should sometimes quit the cares of life, and resolve to enjoy the .pleasures of holiness and true devotion. I shall now proceed to the second part, * But he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.' It is not all those who say Lord, Lord, that enter into the kingdom of heaven, but those who act righ- teously in this world, and prepare themselves for the enjoyment of a better. If we only profess religion, we shall not be able -to give a proper account of our stewardship ; but we must do every thing which may get us an entrance into the kingdom of heaven. We must, instead of only outwardly professing a religion, do that which is right, and perform the will of our \ heavenly Father. Vain is it to say Lord, Lord ; we must, to obtain salvation, zealously proceed doing good works, and making ourselves ready for the last and awful day. I shall now conclude with a few remarks. We are not to put on a false shew of religion, when we have not our hearts fixed upon God ; for this is a most se- rious crime; it is mocking God, and setting him up to ridicule among men. But we are to lock up our- selves in our closets, and there pray to God with a de- vout and serious mind, and we shall obtain our re- ward; and let us pursue this conduct, and our prayers will undoubtedly be heard. God will not mistake false professors of the Christian religion for true believers, and hr will punish those who make an outward shew of religion, but are inwardly ravenous wolves, and will reward the faithful followers of Christ, and will give them an inheritance undefiled and that fadcth not away. Composed August 18, 1805. Eight years old. 35 Matt iv. 9, 10, All these things aill I give thee, ifthou wilt fall down and worship me. Go then, said Jesus unto him, get thee hence, Satan: for it is -written, Thou shalt worship the Lwd thy God, and him only shalt thou. serve. THE love of worldly power and glory, is one of the prevailing passions in the heart of man; and by this we are led into the commission of crimes, at the thought of which we should shudder, if we seriously considered the wickedness and danger of them. Sa- tan is here trying to confine our Saviour in his prison of sin and darkness, and promising him kingdoms and empires to forsake the truth, and fall down and worship him. We shall consider first, the temptation ef Sata ; and secondly, the answer of Jesus. And first, the temptation of Satan. Every thing D 2 which man could desire, power over all the king- doms and empires of the world; cverv thing which pleasure could suggest, was offered our Saviour, if ke would fall down and worship him. All the plea- sing allurements of the world were presented to his eye, that he might forsake the way of holiness, and fall down and worship him. Satan spared nothing, whereby he might corrupt that virtue which had so long remained uncorrupted and unblemished. All these, says the subtle deceiver, will I give unto thce, if thou wilt fall down and worship me. All thf-sc empires, kingdoms, and provinces, will I give unto thee, if thou wilt forsake the right way. I shall now proceed to my second head, the an- swer of Jesus. Our Saviour says, Get thee hence, Satan, for it is written, Thou shall worship the J, 1605. Eight jear old. Dan. vi. 29. My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions mouthsy that they have not hurt me : forasmuch as before him, innocency teas found in me, and also be- fore thee, King, hai'e I done no hurt. THE power of God extends itself over all the kingdoms of the earth, and knows no limits. His mercy is as great, and is manifested in all his works. And he is perfect, and wishes and commands every one to approach his standard of perfection : and con- sequently those who do well will be rewarded by him, and if they are persecuted in this world, they will have ample reason to rejoice in the next. Daniel was, by envy and hatred, cast into a den of lions ; and his adversaries hoped to deprive him of life : but that God, whom he served, shut the lions' mouths, that they did him no harm. I shall divide my discourse into two parts: first. God's miraculous preservation of Daniel; and se- condly, the reason. Darius had asked whether his God was able to deliver him from the lions. Daniel said, My God is able, and hath shut the lions' mouths that they have not hurt me. God is able to extricate us from every danger j he is able to deliver us from the rage of our enemies; and there is no difficulty in which we are involved which he cannot bring us out of, and he can make the lions do us no hurt. The God of Daniel is, was, and ever will be, able to rescue us in the time of danger. He who governs over the earth can bring us out of every difficulty. I shall now proceed to my second head, the reason. ' Forasmuch as innocence was found in me before him.' The Prophet here assigns a reason for his preservation, than which, nothing can be more just and satis- factory. He said, and very justly too, because of I is innocence he had received no hurt. And this is aptly suited to the world at large. God always pro- tects the innocent, and is both able and willing to defend them from their enemies. God is peculiarly the Father of the innocent; and they, above all, are the objects of his regard and protection. The Royal Psalmist, urging this, beautifully expresses himself, 'Though I was young and now am old, yet saw I ne- ver the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.' In the most adverse circumstances, God has ill ways defended his faithful people, and suffered no injury to come to them. To conclude. Thus innocence is safe, though ex- posed to the jaws of the lion, and every good man is- under the immediate protection of Providence. This is an encouragement for those who have embraced the Christian religion, and have exposed themselves to the most horrid persecutions for the sake of their Saviour, to continue firm in their belief. We should faithful- ly serve God, and if we do not receive our share of prosperity in this world, ve arc sure of meeting re- ward in the next. Is it possible we can hear of hea- ven, and the glories thereof, without wishing to be there? Surely not: and therefore we should trust faithfully in God to deliver us from evil in this world, so shall we receive a crown of glory in the world to come. Composed September 8, 1805. Eight years old. Eccles. iv. 5. The fool foldeth his hands together, and eateth his omn Jlesh. THUS we see what a foolish vice idleness is, since the wisest of men condemned it, and called the idle man a fool. What can be more opposite to the law of God than to lead an idle useless life, and to em- ploy those talents in nothingwhich ought to have been employed in the sen-ice of our fellow-creatures. St. Paul, zealous for the honour of God above all other things, discouraged idleness. He who saith, Pray without ceasing, saith also, Be not slothful in busi- ness. I shall divide my discourse into three parts: first, the necessity of industry; secondly, the pleasure of industry ; and thirdly, the profit of industry. And first, the necessity of industry. Do we rver 44 see a slothful person, who has procured riches himself? Do we not on the contrary sec him immerged in poverty, -with hardly the means of sub- sistence? How many should \ve see begging their bread, were it not for industry,, which has enabled them to support themselves and families? In a word, industry is the only means for the poor to obtain a satisfaction of their wants. I shall now proceed to my second part, the plea- sure of industry. There is a peculiar pleasure in in- dustry, which the slothful man cannot feel. The industrious take a pleasure in that work, which the slothful regard as a toil. The description of an idle man, as given in my text, is extremely jubt The fool foldeth his hands together and cateth his own flesh ; he foldeth his hands together and sleepeth, and doeth nothing,; and he eatcth his own, flesh, because he will not satisfy his hunger with the fruits of his industry. Can such a man have any pleasure ? Can he even have the least enjoyment in his sluggish idle- ness? Surely he cannot. But the industrious man docs his work with pleasure, and delights in his work and this is a far greater delight than that of the sloth- ful, in sleep and idleness. I shall now proceed to my third part, the profit of industry. Most of those whom we sec spend their days in ease and pleasure, have procured those things by many years of hard labour. Industry pro- cures us comfort in our old age, and happiness when we cannot work. Our happiness will be double, both on account of our riches, and of these riches being the fruit of our industry. The industrious man must feel the utmost pleasure in finding his in- dustry thus rewarded with ease and comfort, in his old age. The profits of industry are found in every place. The mechanic, the merchant, the trades- man, all have their respective profits. i To conclude. Idleness is a vice which injures both the body and the mind. We seldom see an industrious person afflicted with any dangerous dis- ease. And can the mind be any other than inv 46 paired by sloth and much sleeping, when our faculties are all absorbed. Let us, therefore, in every station of life, labor to do our duty therein, as this is most pleasing to God. Composed October 27, 1805, Eight years old. 47 I. John i. 7- But if KC ualk in the light, as he is in the light ; tzc have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jtsus Christ his Son, ckanseth us from all sin. SURELY he who wishes to obtain an entrance in- to the kingdom of heaven, must be eager to know how to do so. My text points out holiness and the blood of Christ, as the means of obtaining this entrance. I shall divide my subject into two parts ; first that holiness; secondly, the blood of Jesus Christ, are what will procure for us an entrance into the kingdom of heaven. And first, that holiness is the means of procuring for us an entrance into the kingdom of heaven. It is of no use to believe in Christ, unless we reform, unless we. live in righteousness and truth, unless we 48 obey his commandments, and follow his example, Did he command us to live sinfully ? surely he did not. Did he any thing, which he commanded us not to do? surely he did not. Did not the apostles who followed the examples and the precepts of the blessed Jesus, preach to this end, to convert men to God and righteousness? This is the way by which we may enter into the kingdom of heaven, by casting off the old man, and putting on the new man, abhorring the lusts of the flesh, and seeking righteousness, by despising the joys of this world, preferring the temporary sorrows of virtue, to the temporary enjoyments of vice, know- ing that the reward of virtue is everlasting life, and that the punishment of the wicked are torments for ever and ever, and by putting on the armor of truth aud righteousness, the darts of sin shall not be able, to touch us, and the machinations of Satan shall not succeed. The wise Solomon says, her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her her paihs are peace: this undoubtedly means righte-* ousncss. And again, he says, The ways of the wick- ed" shall te overthrown, but the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish. These being the words of the wisest man that existed, in that or the present age, and also a -devout servant of God, we may naturally and justly conclude them to be true. The blood of Jesus procures for us admittance into the kingdom of heaven. Surely it does. The blood of Jesus was a sufficient sacrifice for our sins. He will cleanse us from all sin ; his blood wa?heth away every stain, and makes us pure and holy. A sacrifice was want- ed for our sins; Jesus sacrificed himself for us. By his death, we were delivered from gcing down into the pit: he paid the ransom for us; he shed his own precious blood, that we might not perish, but have eternal life. It is said in my text, And the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin, together with a. total reform, and obeying his commandments, and above all believing in his ability to save sinners: with 50 these things we shall be cleansed from all our tins and we shall have eternal life. To conclude. After having heard the beauty and substantial good of holiness ; after having heard that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin, shall we not be holy? and shall we not believe jn Je- sus? Shall \ve hesitate, for a moment, to accept the gracious offer of God, who is willing, if we arc holy and amend our lives, to let us enter into the kingdom of heaven? But shall we ever cease to thank him for that stupendous act of mercy, the sending his only begotten Son into the world, to save lost sinners ? And let us never cease to do good, but let us praise him continually for all his unmerited goodness. Composed December eg, 1805. Eight yean old. Isaiah xiii. 6. ill add unto thy day s,Jif teen years, KING HEZEKIAIT, we road in the chapter from which my text is token, was sick, and the prophet going toliim, said, Thus saith the Lord, set thy house in order, for thou shall die and not live. And Ilezekiah said unto the Lord, Remember now, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth, and with a perfect heart; I have done that which is good in thy sight; and Ilexekiah wopt sore; then came the word of the Lord to I-aiah saying. Thus saith the Lord, the God of David thy father, I have heard thy prayers, I have seen thy tears; behold I will add unto thy davs, fifteen years. And arc not we in the same situation as Hczokiah? has not God as much reason to take away our health? Have we done anything lo deserve the mercy of God in letting us see the beginning of a new year? Surely we have not. I shall now consider how we ought to behave in the beginning of a new year. And first, we are to thank God for letting us live another year. We must know that God is powerful enough to take away our lives, and ought we not to thank him for preserving them ? shall we not glorify the God in whose hands our breath is, and who of his mercy hath not taken away that breath ? In what a situation should we be if God was suddenly to takeaway our lives, before we had repented of our sins, and settled our spiritual affairs; and will not he who esteems the keeping of life as a blessing, thank him who lets him keep it? surely it is natural for him so to do. I shall now consider what resolutions we ought to form in the beginning of a new year. The in- tention of God in givu >r us life, was that we might live a life of righteousness. The same ever is Lis intention in preserving it. We ought then to live in righteousness, and obey the commandments of God; do we not perceive that another year is come, that time is passing away quickly, and eternity is ap- proaching ; and shall we be all this while in a state of sin, without any recollection that the kingdom of heaven is nearer at hand ? but we ought, in the beginning of a new year to form a resolution to be more mindful of th* great account we must give at the last day, and live accordingly ; we ought to form a resolution to reform our lives, and walk in the ways of God's righteousness; to abhor all the lusts of the flesh, and to live in temperance; and resolve no more to offend and provoke God with our sins, but repent of them. In the beginning of a new year, we should reflect a little, although we are kept alive, yet many died iu the course of the last year ; and this ought to make us watchful. I shall therefore say a few things concerning watchfulness. Our Saviour sticl, watch and pray, lest yc cater into temptation; .and ought we not to follow the words of our Saviour, which is our duty so to do? if we every vt-nr of our lives indulge in sin, how shall we be situated .in that year when God will take them away? then shall we continue to be unmindful of death before we are prepared for it? we are to look on every stop we tread, that we may not be caught in the wiles of Satan. Perhaps we may havejiad many relatives snatched away from us by death, and we ought to reflect that death may be our lot soon; and reflecting on this, vre ought to abstain from bad company and bad manners; in short we ought to watch and pray. I To conclude, the conclusion we have to draw is, that we should be virtuous, and thank God for our preservation, ami that he haslet us seethe, beginning of a new year ; and we ought to form a resolution, and never break it, to be virtuous; we ought to watch and pray that we enter not into tcmptatation And lastly, we ought in general to behave well, that on our death bed we may triumph pleasantly, and exclaim, Oh ! d^ath where is thy sting ? Oh ! grave where is thy victory! Composed, isf. January, 1806. Eight years eld. I 4 Matt. xxi. v. Tell ye the daughter of Zion, the King comctlt unto thee sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of ft ass. THE worldly man might suppose that our Saviour, being superior to the greatest prince on earth, would, on his visit to any city, ride in the greatest pomp and splendour ; but behold the king cometh. meek and sitting on an ass r and a colt, the foal of an ass. This ought to toach us a lesson of humility, and, secondly, to think of the coining of our Saviour, and the day of judgment. And first, it ought to teach us a lesson of humility. Surely if our Saviour, who was the King of Sion ; who was above all the Kings of the earth, entered the capital of his kingdom, with so much humility, it is our duty to do every thing with humility, who arc so much inferior to him in every thing. If the Son of the Most High God, deported himself with so much humility, we poor frail worms ought to do so ; and indeed we may find in scripture many instances of our Saviour's humility. He gave the praise of all the miracles he wrought to God, bidding those whom he cured to worship his heavenly Father, and charged them not to tell any one who it was that cured them. Humility is a virtue that is agreeable to all, but pride is wicked and disgusting. A humble man acknowledges the superiority of other men, whereas the proud man elevates himself above them. But it is virtue which makes one man above another, and vice which makes one man below another; riches and honor do not make the distinction : a virtuous peasant, is above a wicked prince, and a virtuous prince above a wicked peasant. In short, it is virtue alone which makes the distinction. Did not our Saviour condescend to be born of a pour virgin, and wrapped up in swaddling cloaths, and laid in a manger? Ought not tkis to teach us to despise the pomp of this world, and the vain splendour of earthly things? Surely he must be obstinate who will not be taught by it. I shall now proceed to my second part : this ought to teach us to think of the second coming of our Saviour. Any observing person would, on reading this part of scripture, and applying it to the second coming of our Saviour, think, on the difference of his second advent, that although he then wept over our sins, yet he will come to punish them. lie will not then come sitting upon an ass, but upon the clouds ; and instead of being followed by a tumultuous rabble, angels, and archangels shall be his attendants. Then indeed kc will appear in all the splendour of an heavenly King. And then what ought to be our thoughts: we ought to think of the mercy of our Saviour in pardoning sinners. We ought to think of his impartial justice; that he will not then be the mild corrector of our faults, but the punisher of them. He will not then preach the gospel, but see whether it has been obeyed, and punish them who have not obeyed it; that he will then appear the great judge? hearing the great account, which we must all give at the last day, and judging the world in righteous- ness. To conclude, are not the foregoing passages an incitement to humility, a discouragment to pride ? arc not they fitted to make us think that virtue alone makes one above another ? Do we not read of the severity of our Saviour to impenitent sinners, and shall we not repent of our sins, amend our livrs, and obey the commandments of God? surely it -ur duty so to do. Then when the awful day appears, when the Son of Man shall come to judge the world, he shall say unto us, Come, ye blessed children of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you. Composed, January 12, 106. Eight years eld. Psalm iii. 6. 1 ttm not afraid of ten thousand of the people, who hact set themselves against me round about. THE time when the Royal Psalmist wrote this, was when the disobedient Solomon forced him to fly out of his kingdom. These words shew his confi- dence in God ; and indeed he plainly manifested this confidence in all his actions. Did not he accept the challenge of the impious giant of the Philistines, when the tallest and strongest man in the army was afraid? But what was the cause of the strong confi- dence in the Almighty? Virtue. He knew that he had done, every thing to the glory of God, and be- haved himself in such a manner as to authorise his confidence in him; and indeed the confidence of se good a man cannot be called presumptuous. I shall divide my text into two parts : first, the fear and trouble of the' wicked man ; and secondly, the hope of a good man, and his confidence in God. And first, the fear and trouble of the wicked man. The fears of the wicked man are not ill grounded; God is terrible to him; his conscience torments him; he reflects on the punishment which will be inflicted on him: all these things make him miserable. The mind of the wicked, saith the Psalmist,is as the trou- bled sea. The fears of the wicked man will attend him every where, and in every situation of life, whe- ther young or old, rich or poor. Riches do not prc* vent us from feeling the pangs of conscience, nor are they any alleviation of the pain which we must feel if we walk S;i the ways of the ungodly, and do the thing which is not right. How can the sinner pre- sume to ask any thing of God, when he has done so much to provoke him to refuse? How can he ex- pect God would grant his petition, when lie disobey* him and docs not keep his commandments? The wicked man remembers, with misery, that heavrn is the habitation of good men alone, but that the tor- ments of hell arc prepared for himself and all the wicked. Wliat an agonizing reflection must this be to him ! I shall now proceed to my second part, of the hope of the good man, and his confidence in God. The good man is in a very different situation from the wicked man: he is not tormented with a guilty con- science ; he thinks not of the terrors of hell, but of the joys of heaven ; his mind is not as the troubled sea, it is undisturbed; the winds of affliction trouble him not, for his hope is in God, and in him he puts his trust; to him death is no terror, but a comfort; his undertakings indeed must prosper, for the Psalmist says, 'The tabernacle of the righteous shall flourish.' The virtuous man, confiding in the ability and will of the Almighty to protect him from danger, will en- gage in the most difficult enterprizos ; he will not be afraid of ten thousands of people; he knows that the Lord is on his side, that he will assist him in the time of danger, and will deliver him from evil; he knows that he has done that which was right, that he hath not walked in the ways of the ungodly, and therefore God loveth him. To conclude. We have heard of the miserable life of a wicked man ; and shall we be wicked ? r shall a sinner, who leads such a life, continue to be sinful ? will he prefer the disturbed unholy pleasures of sin to the pure unmixed enjoyments of virtue ? the the joys of this world to those of the next ? Let u* repent. God will ever grant the petition of the Jruly contrite sinner, and will give him admission into the kingdom of hcavrn. But what an encouragement is r for the righteous man ! will he not be holy, since there is so much pleasure in holiness ? continu- ally doing good works, his hope will be great, and his confidence in the Lord strong; then indeed he may cry out with the Psalmist, ' I am not afraid of ton thousands of people, that have set themselves aainst me round about.' Composed January 19, 1C06 Eight years old. Mark x. 14. And Jesus said, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for oj'.such is the kingdom ef God. HERE we -read that our blessed Saviour took little children in his arras, and blessed them; but these were not conceited unteachable wicked chil- dren, but children of whom our Saviour said, of such are the kingdom of heaven. I shall say a few things of the good qualities which those children possessed whom our Saviour took in his arms and blessed. And first, they were meek children. Meekness is a most Christian virtue; this was displayed in every 1 art of our Saviour's life. True humility consists in acknowledging ourselves to be poor frail creatures and God to be a being of infinite power over the uui- vci:?e, in acknowledging other men to be superior to ourselves, and when we have done any thing deserv- ing of praise, in hiding it from men, and seeking the praise of God alone. Such a disposition must cer- tainly render us agreeable to God and man. And it is certainly foolish to assume any thing to ourselves, since every created being is in the hands of God- We are not, as the hypocrites, to love to pray stand- ing in .public, to be seen of men, because those who pray for that reason expect to be praised of men, which is contrary to the laws of God. And Gcd will not grant the prayers of those who pray only to be seen of men, and to be praised by the m. More- over, saith our Saviour, in his excellent Sermon on the Mount, \Yhen ye fast, be not as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance, for ihey disfigure- th< ir faces that they may appear unto men to fast ; which is wicked in the extreme, since we are all sinful creatures. Thus did our Saviour enjoin humility to his disci- pies, and those to -whom he preached. Concerning this virtue enough has been said. I shall now proceed to my second good quality which those children possess ; this is'teachableness. This is also a great virtue, confessing our ignorance, and being willing and wishing to be taught. But this is principally a virtue in spiritual affairs \ to be. \villing to be taught the word of God, our frail nature, and his infinite power; that we shall be punished if we are wicked, and rewarded if we are good; to re- sist the temptations of Satan, and when we want any thing to pray to God with devotion, and to thank him with a sense of our unvsorthiness to receive and God's bounty to give it; to renounce all the unlaw-- ful pleasures of this world, and to seek those of the next, which are all holy. Of these things no one knows much, and what he docs know is from instruc- tion: there-fore, if he is sdf-conceited and thinks he knows without instruction, he thinks both falsely atixd foolishly, for nothing can be known without iu- "iii* years old. Ecclcss. xii. 1. Remember now thy Creator, in the days of thy youth. THE words in my text, are consistent with the wisdom of the king who wrote them; he well knew how strong were the allurements of the world, and the folly and the wickedness of youth ; that if these "allurements were set before a young man, not a thought of God would enter his heart, but that lie would abandon himself to all kind of wickedness ; he therefore gave this advice ; Remember now thy Creator, in the days of thy youth. I shall therefore -mention the difficulties, and encouragements which attend the performance of this duty; and after- wards draw a suitable conclusion. And first, the difficulties which attend the performance of this duty. These, to a young man, 77 just entering into life, appear great and numerous j it is customary for him to seek all the pleasures he can obtain, and to indulge in the lawless delights of the flesh ; he habituates himself to the company of those whom the world calls men of pleasure, who teach him all their vices, and efface many, if not all his good qualities from his heart ; in such company, and amidst such enjoyments, it is almost impossible for God to enter his thoughts; he is abandoned to vice and immorality; but if he follows the advice in my text, he must no longer frequent the company of these men ; instead of whom, the pious and the good must be his companions; he must forego these pleasures, instead of which the pleasures of holiness must be his delight; those men whose company he has forsaken, will ridicule him, and the partakers of his former pleasures, will laugh at his present piety; he will be exposed to mortifications from all but the good* 78 -But let us change the scene, and in the second place, let us consider the encouragements which attend the performance of this duty in this life. He takes a delight in anticipating the promised pleasures of a future life, and pities the lot of those who, instead of turning to God, like him, persevered in their sinful ways. He looks forward to death as a deliverance from all his troubles ; his virtues disarm it of its sting. Lot us follow him to the day in which the heavens shall pass away with a great jiuise, and the elements shall . melt with fervent heat: the earth also, and the things that arc therein, shall be burnt up ; with what joy must he hear the trumpet make the dead to rise from their, graves, and view the God whom they have so long served; but with what rapture, must he hear himself declared a partaker of the kingdom of heaven; and how must he bless the day when goJluvess took possession of his .heart. We see therefore that the anticipation of future happiness "will comfort us under all the mortifications he shall meet, and how sufficiently the enjoyments of that happiness will rccompence them. .To conclude. We see that the eternity of bli>s which we -shall enjoy hereafter \\ill be more than, a recompence for all the mortifications \ve can possibly meet with here; he therefore must be stubborn and foolish indeed who would reject the advice in my text. But there are some so foolish and stubbonij as to reject it, notwithstanding its excellency, and the wisdom of the king who gave it. But can they suppose that if they do not remember their .Creator in the days of their youth, that he will remember them in their old age, and when they have most need ol his assistance? certainly not! I shall conclude my discourse with the advice of the pious David, on his death bed, to his Son, who from the words in my text did not forget them. ' And thou Solomon, my son, know thou the of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind; for the Lord earchcs all the hearts, and uiiderstandcth all the imaginations of the thoughts ; if thou seek him he will be found of thee. But if thou forsake him ke will cast thce off for ever. Competed August, Si 1600. y'u-.t jeut old* 81 Isaiah, ix. 6. For unto us a child is born, unto vs a son is given : and the government shall be vpon his shoulder: and his name shall be called, Wonderful, Coun- sellor, The mighty God, The erer lasting Father, the Prince of peace. I shall in the following discourse undertake to show, that Christ was the child altuded to in my text, and that these magnificent titles, could not, with justice, be attributed to any one else, since he alone was worthy of them, and has fully justified the prediction of the Prophet. The titles are such as could not be attributed to any mortal ; and he for whom they are intended, must be something more than man. And who could better answer these titles, than the Son of God ? was not he in every description, Wonderful, Counsellor, a The mighty God, The, .everlasting Father, Tne Prince of peace? Yes, certainly! This Son was the same as he r who was 4o be brought forth by a virgin, and whose na.ne .was to be Jesus, who. should save his people from their sins. But let .us nou'consiclcr these titles of the Redeemer. In the first place, he is styled, Wonderful: he is wonderful for his love to mankind, which prompted Lim to descend from heave;!, to make atonement for our sins ; he is wonderful for his humility in descending from the height of glory, which he enjoyed in heaven, and in submitting himself to be aiade in the form of a man, and finally to be put to an ignominious death. Do \ve want knowledge ? \Ve have in him a Counsellor, able to reveal every tiling to us ; to unfold to us every mystery ; to show KG every thing we desire to know, and to impart to us dll knowledge, in short, a Counsellor of . wisdom, and ready to impart that wisdom teas. He is the mighty God. In this respect he is able to destroy both body and soul in hell; he is able to reduce the sinner to the lowest brink of misery, and to elevate the true believer to the height of joy. When blasted by the stormy winds of adversity, he can assure his faithful servant of a safe arrival in his heavenly kingdom, where ll his sorrows will die away, and where uninterrupted bliss reigns. He is the only protector, but he is the chastiser of those who rebel against his laws and government. He is the everlasting Father, or the Father of eternity. In th ; s description Le comforts under every affliction in this life, and afterwards will give them an inheritance in- corruptible, undefiled, and which fudcth nut a\vas . lie is, finally, styled the Prince of peace. Thi: the most glorious of all his tides ; in this character he came down from heaven to atone for the trangressions of mankind, and to reconcile man to his offended Creator, when by his insults he had justly-provoked o 2 84 the wrath of his Maker, and was about to suffer the punishment of eternal death and torment, to which the divine justice sentenced him. The Prince of peace descended from his throne of glory to asume the shape of a servant, and to suffer for the sins of the human race. To conclude. And ought not the birth of such a being to fill us with astonishment at the power, and with love, at the mercy of God? Ought we not to rejoice at the birth of a Saviour, who, if we want knowledge, is able and willing to impart it to us ? if protection, to relieve us in every necessity ? If comfort, to comfort us under every affliction, by assurances of eternal happiness ? and if reconciliation, who came down for the express purpose of making peace between God and us ? Surely the birth of such a Saviour, ought to be the subject of the greatest joy to us. And every time this day occurs, we ou"ht to be the more and more fixed in a full 85 determination to spend our lives to the glory of God, who, when we had by repeated insults provoked his displeasure, sent his only and beloved Son into the world to take our nature, and to suffer .for our sins. Composed on Christmas Day, 1806. Nine Years old. G3 >latt xxiv. 50. Tit Lord of that servant shall come in a day t; Iwketh not for him, and in an hour that he is not cware of. IT is my intention, in the following discourse, to show the necessity of being always prepared for death, fcy the uncertainty of life, and shall afterwards draw a few suitable remarks. No man knows when he shall die, or how long he shall live; when he goes out in the. morning, he is not sure that he shall come again safe at night; or that whilst he is in the midst of worldly enjoyments, and whilst taken up with the affairs of this world, the Lord will not take him away from the land of tke living. Whilst indulging in scenes of luxury and dissipation, there arc many things by which we may be taken out of the world. But there are many \vho .io not consider that they are every moment liable to be snatched away in the midst of their worldly occu- pations ; they go out in the morning to engage in the bu- siness or the pleasures of this world, and that bubinoss and those pleasures engross their attention too much for to leave them any time to think of God; they do not consider that the God who gave them life is able to take it away at his pleasure; they-think that they at least shall die in their beds, -that the time of thrit death- is very distant, and that when it does come k will be time enough for repentance, and that that r> :>entance will open the gates of heaven to them. But. let those who are filled with such thoughts consider how presumptuous arc such thoughts, and horv vain it is to suppose that God will extend his mercy- - !o them, when they repent only because it is n* longer in their power to offend ; for if they knew -.vlyen and how they should die, we should witness more scenes of luxury and vice than -are even re* exhibited, c -j. There are some men who will *ay that they cannot always have God in their minds; but such men do not argue this from a wish to follow the law of God, and a conviction of the impossibility of strictly ob- serving this duty; no, they are swayed by very diffe- rent motives; they know that if they have God and his attributes always before them, they will be de- terred from pursuing the path into which their vicious inclinations would lead them: they there- fore pretend that they are unable, when the truth is that they are unwilling. But let us see this difficulty, and examine these obstacles which they are so ready to raise, whenever their vices and their failings are opposed. The man who truly fears and loves>God, will always have him before his eyes, both as his Father and his Judge; his worldly concerns will not prevent him from thinking of the God who upholds him wherever he goes, and sees him in whatever business he is engaged; for if men were not so eager about the affairs of this world, 3 would be much more before their.eyes, and they would pay much more attention to the affairs of the next. To conclude. I have thus briefly shown the un- certainty of death, and the possibility of having God always before our eyes. If then it is possible to have God always before our eyes, and it is even easy so to do, how is it we see multitudes daily inconsiderate of their leading lives of vice and luxury, and going in the way where the customs and fashions of a wick- ed world lead them, or else zealously engaging in its occupations. It is a love of the world; it is because they prefer this world, its wickedness and vanity, to a holy life. It is needless to show the superiority of virtue to vice. I shall end with recommending to all men to despise the pleasures of this world ; to have God always before their eyes ; and so shall we lead such a life as will gain for us an entrance into iiis kingdom; and on that day when Jesus Christ shall come to judge the world in rightcousnea?, we shall hear the Judge pronounce these word?, Conic ye blessed of my Father, inherit the king- dom prepared for you before tho foundation of ike world. Composed, J/i v nry \ " , 1807 . ?Tiu ye*rs old. 1 Kings, xi. 4. JFbr it came to pass tchen Solomon uas old, that his wires turned aicay his heart after other gods, and his heart was not perfect with the Lord his Cud, as lotis the heart of Darid hie father. . IN the following discourse, I shall show the occasion of the fall of Solomon; and shall after- wards draw a suitable conclusion. The pious David having breathed his last, after having given many instructions, and pious charges to his Son, Solomon ascended the throne; the firs* step he took after his father's death was to punish Joab, and U fulfil his other instructions. He speedily removed all obstacles to his throne, and thought of nothing but the government of the kingdom* entrusted to his care. The holy scriptures record that the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream, and said, ' ask what shall I give thee.' Solomon considering the greatness of the people he was appointed to govern, requested of the Lord to give him wisdom, and an understanding heart, to discern between the evil and the good, and to judge the people in equity. It is said, that the speech pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked him that thing, and that he told him, because he had not asked riches, and honour, and long life, or the lives of his enemies, that he had not only given him riches and honour also, above every other king upon the face of the earth, and that if he would walk in the paths of his father David, and would walk uprightly, he would grant him long life also. His wisdom further appeared in the case of the two harlots; when in a cause, which appeared almost indeterminable, he determined with the utmost apparent justice. And again, we hear that he was wiser than all men; and that there came of all people to hear kis wisdom from all parts of the earth. Solomon now set about building the temple with great earnestness, and whilst employed in its fabrication, God said to him, that if he would execute his statutes and observe his laws, he would dwell in the midst of the children of Israel ; and would not forsake his people Israel. With the assistance of Hiram, King of Tyre, he finished the Temple, and dedicated it to the Lord. After the dedication, God appeared to Solomon a second time in a dream, and said, ' I have heard thy prayer, and thy supplication, which thou has made before me. I hate hallowed this house, which thou hast built, to put my name there for ever; and mine eyes, and mine heart, shall be there continually.' We have heard that manjt came to hear the \visdom, and to view the riches of Solomon ; amongst these was the Queen of Sheba ; having heard much of the wisdom, and discernment of 'Solomon, sh^ determined to prove him in hard questions. She came, therefore, bringing presents of gold, and silver, and spices; but she was soon convinced of the wisdom of Solomon, and confessed thif't he fdr exceeded the 'report she had heard respecting him, and departed full of admiration of his \\idi, -made of wood : the work of 11: hai!.' CM instead of the pious Solomon sacrificing and making burnt offerings to God, we see him paying bis devotion -to the Idols -of Eckron, and A mm on. To conclude. If vo enquire into -the cause of Solomon's fall, we shall find his alliance with those who followed .strange gods was the reason. Let us apply this to- ourselves, to . Christians, and we shall find -that bad company .is -the worst of all \ices; and that the company of the good and pious is improving in the highest degree. Let us then consider how far hurtful bad company is, and the advantages which are produced by the society of the truly pious. When we enter into the society of a set of profligate and abandoned men at first perhaps, we may be shocked at their proianeness, and consider them as highly criminal ; by degrees we become less scrupulous, and look with an indifferent eye upon their sinful conduct; but when we become habituated to their society, we enter into their sentiments, we agree with them in their opinion?, and their example tempts us to commit crimes-^ which we before looked upon with horror; and we at last grow familiar with crimes, and, like Solomon, from being holy and upright, we follow after the idols of riches, honour, power, and all the pomp and vanities of a wicked world. Let us always have these words in the tablets of our memory, Follow not after a multitude to do evil. But let us now consider the advantages c,f good company. If we frequent the company of good men, all that we see of them will tend to make us good too. Whatever we hear, or see, shews us that the true believer is happy wherever, and in whatever station of life, he is. In prosperity we see him, as much as lies in his power, relievo the unfortunate, and succour the friendless and the orphan, and make the widow's heart to sing tor joy. In adversity we do not see him repining at the will of God ; no, he offers up his prayers to God, to deliver him from the dangers with which he his surrounded, acknow- lodging the divine justice, confessing his sins, and submitting to poverty and distress with cheerfulness and resignation. We never see him with a gloom upon his countenance, arising from any of the cares of this world ; he knows that he is doing well, and he looks forward to the day of judgement, to receive the reward prepared for the righteous. At first, perhaps, we may look upon religion as a burden, and upon conscience as a troublesome companion, but we soon perceive that true piety is the source of innumerable pleasures, and we wish to obtain that peace of mind which a holy life affords. Let us then shun bad company as the perverter of all religion, and the source of innumerable vices, but let us select those persons for our companions, who, neither insolent in prosperity, nor repining in adversity, lead a holy and religious life; from them we shall learn to walk in the paths of holiness, and ever to tread in those paths which lead to everlasting happiness. Composed February 1 , 180". Nine year* '.A. II I. John iii. 9- In thin was manifested the love of God towards us : because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that ice might lire through him. IT is my intention in the following discourse, to shew the love of God to us, from our unworthincss, and by the mission of his only begotten Son into the world. First then, on account of our unworthiness to receive the least marks of God's mercy. When Ciod made our first parents, he placed them in ths garden of Eden, a place abounding in all the delights the earth could afford; he gave him power over the animals which inhabited the garden, and, in short, made him lord of all the earth; and ;.<- a trial of his obedience gave him only one in- junction, but this disobedience was to be punished with death, \\hichwasnottoeatofthcfruitofthetree which stood in the midst of the garden; but even this duty he would not perform, and consequently the threatened punishment of death was inflicted upon him. But there was another kind of death, more dreadful than this, that is eternal death. By the sin of Adam man was doomed to suffer this death ; but God looked down with compassion upon hi miserable wretched creatures, and would not suffer us to perish. He sent Jesus Christ down to save us. Adam suffered himself to be tempted by Satan, to eat of the fruit, of which God said, ' thou shalt not eat. Secondly, the mercy of God is displayed in the mission of his only begotten Son, for a creature who had disobeyed him in an order of the most trifling kind ; for a creature who was made, preserved and fed by his bounty, but yet who dared to rebel against him ; for a creature who knew that death would be the consequence of his disobedience, and u 2 100 who had the audacity to disobey. For to save such a creature from eternal death, he sent his only begotten Son into the world, to die for his sins. Was not the love of God manifested toward us in this? but it was not only to save us from eternal death that Jesus Christ came into the world ; he did not come merely to deliver us from the tortures which the wicked feel in hell; no, he came to win for us a crown of glory, to open to us the gates of everlasting life, and to gain for us uninterrupted bliss; and instead of a wicked world, fraught with innumerable evils and dangers, to give us for our habitation a place abounding with ineffable delights, and where we have for our companions saints and angels, and for our employment the glorification of God. Let us now proceed to the application. I shall here shew the pernicious consequence of the con- clusions which some men draw from this attribute of God, and shew the right one. There are very few who 101 arc willing to doubt of the mercy of God. They find the thought too pleasing to be rejected, but they think it inexhaustible ; they think repentance un- necessary, until they are lying on their death bed, and then it will be as acceptable, as if it were made in the vigour of youth, when they were capable of worshipping him. Thus they go on in direct opposition to his laws, and they think that he will bear up with it all, and will at last give them heaven as their reward ; but let them consider that God will not suffer their disobedience for ever; that the ax will at last be put to the root of the tree, and that it will be cut down; that all his attributes are in concord with one another, and that his goodness is restrained by his justice, and that although he suffers for a long time, he will at last punish those who transgress his laws. But the true believer, the more he considers the mercy of God, the more he loves him; the more uprightly he walks, and the more he obeys H 3 102 his laws. TLi-t these be our sentiments; let us always fe&vc the mercy of God in view, both as a source of infinite satisfaction, and as an incitement to strive to run that race which every man must run. Competed February 8, 1807. Nine Years ld. 103 Psnlm xix. 11. In keeping of them there is great reward. A SOLID and lasting happiness is man's chief aim, and in every thing which he does he tries to ob- tain it. But still there is nothing which we arc more Ignorant of. We generally seek it in the pleasures of this world. It is my intention to show, in the following dis- course, that true happiness, both in this world and the next, consists in religion alone, and that the plea lures of this world are incapable of affording real ep joyment ; but rather, on the contrary, tend to create remorse, if not for sinful enjoyments, at least it>r the mispending of our time. First then, the pleasures of this world are so : 158 they were to extend farther, and to ascend higher. Nothing short of eternal happiness, in the presence of God, and in the company of his angels, was to have been his exquisite, his transporting lot. But ! alas sin, has cast a cloud over these brilliant prospects, and has concealed them from our view. And what is it she offers us instead of these in- valuable blessings? she offers wealth, and with it a. luxuriant table, a costly attire, a large and magnificient retinue, and a delusive crowd of flatterers, who instil into our minds a sweet, but pernicious poison, and who raise their own fortunes on the mean and despicable servilities they practise on their superiors. She gives us honours and reputation, mere temporary bubbles, which, while they last, keep us in possession of the applause and admiration of the fickle multitude ; and the next fleeting hour perhaps, sink into the lowest gulph of oblivion; but can these short lived blessings be compared to those of a future sta^e ? can the dim 159 lustre of one fleeting day, b< compared to the ever brilliant and never fading glories of eternity ? Can a house built upon the sands, exposed to wind and rain, a house which totters at each rising storm, be compared to that immortal fabric, founded on the rock of ages, unassailable by the blasts of ad- versity, and lasting till time shall be no more r Again, man when unpolluted by the deadly poison of sin, is the friend of God; sin binds upon him the chains of Satan. What an awful change! instead of the friendship of the most pure and perfect of beings, \\c are made the slaves of the most cruc-1 and perfidious one, whose malign gratification consists in the misery,, and whose principal aim, is the everlasting ruin of the human race. Finally, sin erases from the mind of man, every good, amiable and godlike sentiment, and implants in its stead every thing foul, vicions and detestable. 160 I will now proceed to that part of my discourse, which commonly interests the sinner the most, and has perhaps made more converts to the path of virtue, than the fairest representation of the blessings attending it, have ever been able to effect. From sin arises every evil which is suffered. Hence public hostility, and private rancour and animosity; the fall of nations, and the ruin of families; hence every thing baneful to society and the world, take their source; but without looking into the annals of the world, let us mark in one individual sinner the effects of sin. The wages of sin is death. Death, not that which the good and bad are alike doomed to suffer, but that whieh the sinner suffers alone, and suffers for ever ; it is not the agony of a moment, but the continued torment of endless ages. It is the worm which never dicth, and the fire which is never quenched, which con- sume him. Here let us picture to ourselves the uttermost extreme of misery, would we wish to present to our minds his condition. Thf s-'und. and sight of be:ngs, miserable as himself, the com- pany of evil ijjirit.s, and his own exquisite torments arc redoubled by his own reflectijns. Had he, instead of laying up his treasure on earth, laid up an incorruptible treasure ia heaven, he would not now have- been in this wretched ahode, but would have been happy in the. mansions of the righteous. Every warning bestowed upon him to quit the path of vice, aud turn to the Lord his God is an addition to his misery^ it is a wound which rankles at his heart, and which gives him not a moment's intermission. What would he not now give for one year, one day, one hour even of repentance ; how. gladly would he now embrace death, and annihilation to escape from this wretched condition; but it is impossible; not a single ray of hope glistens across the dark abyss to cheer him under his torments, and a little to alleviate his misery. He looks back to time, is distracted Iry remorse ; he kuks forward M to eternity, he is overwhelmed with dispair; on every side appears a scene of misery and horror. 4uch arc the wages of sin, such the ruin and misery it excites in the world. I will now conclude with a suitaMe application. I have demonstrated, in the foregoing passages, that sin is the occasion of every evil, both in this world, and in the ne.xt ; and indeed that it is so, {. \v pretend to dispute; but though all who profess to be Christians allow the beauty of virtue, and deformity f'f vice, they neither love the one, nor hate the other, but follow the paths of sin at the same time they profess they sec the evil of it. Though we may follow sin in a different manner, the crime is equal. Let us Hot be deceived ; God is not mocked ; he searches into the bottom of every heart, nor can the most specious veil conceal from him our real sentiments. The i:m who, under the mask of piety and zeal for religion, disguises lewd and vicious inclinations, is no Itfss criminal than the bold and dating atheist o > 163 who openly disavows it; nor is the man cold and indifferent to religion more excusable, than he who openly violates its laws% It is not every one who says, Lord, Lord shall enter the kingdom of hraven; but he who docth the will of my Father which is in heaven. It is not every one who professes to detest sin> but he who really shuns it, who can avoid everlasting torment, and gain an entrance into that house in which there are many mansions. In proportion to the deformity of sin, we should abhor its paths; in proportion to the beauty of virtue, we should shew our love and reverence to it by our actions. For there will be a day when we shall know that mere eternal professions arc of little avail to our eternal salvation ; and we shall feel how awful a thing it is, to fall into the hands of the living God. Let us then cast off this monster sin ; let us detest it. not only in word but in deed. A perfect hatred of sin will lead us, by a natural course to the paths of virtue; otherwise how can M 2 we expect, polluted and debased by it. to gain admission into those glorious mansions, where we must live for ever in the presence of that God whose eyes are so pure that they cannot even bhold iniquity? Competed August \, 1806. tlere* Yt.ri uU 165 TO The Master, Wardttis, and Court of Assistant*, of the Worshipful Company of Drapers* GFKTLEMEV, INDEBTED as we are to your bounty, for shelter, Food and raiment; for every comfort here, for every hope of happiness hereafter, we are at a loss how to address you in terms of gratitude and respect adequate to the favours we have received. For many years I and my companions have been trained up in the midst of plenty and comfort, under this hospitable roof, to the knowledge of every pro- fitable acquirement, and of our duty to God and to our neighbour, which may render us honest and useful members of the society to which we shall hereafter belong. Thf above aodress was composed by the younp author at the requsst of the Master ot UancrofVs School, Mntx-ati Road ; aiid spo*r u by cue f tue senior boys. OD Sunday the 8lh October, 18ott, t the annual i cheek, when he nflectt-d that they must look up in vain. Still was Almurad sober, prudent and industrious, and often when he retired at night from the forest, hungry and fatigued, if the fruit of his toils did not satisfy his children's appitite he was as contented without a taste as it he had been seated at the board of pU-nty. But hitherto, although Almurad had suffered the evils of extreme penury, he had not sunk under their weight. The bounty of the rich had in some degree alleviated his misfortunes, and rendered his condition tolerable. But he was now to experience the assaults of poverty in a still heavier degree; a famine afflicted the inhabitants of the land, and not only added to the wants of Almurad, but deprived him of some of his means of support. The rich, who out of their abundance had relieved his wants, being now obliged to retrench some of tluir superfluities, would not give him assistance out of those which remained. He was reduced to a state of complicated misery ; reduced by the want tf a meal, to a itaU ai proachr.ig to distraction, he was fuqunuly tcnijUd to a uagu. r to the bicast c f the j a^ing travdkr 17O and take by force what honesty and industry could not procure for him ; still he had spirit enough to reject the thought, and continued to drag on, as well as he could, a lift- of misery and want. One day as he was pursuing his labour in the forest, he heard the sound of horses comin<* that way; the ax was in the tree, he left hold for a moment, and looked forward to see who it was. that business and pleasure led to penetrate the recesses of the forest ; it was the wealthy Dinar/ad riding to the chase, attended by a splendid equij and accompanied by his friends, who seumd to strive who should pwy him the greatest tribute of respect. Almurad had never witnessed any thing so magnificent before ; he gazed on the scene with astonishment. It seemed to him, that Golconda had poured forth all the treasures of its bosom into the lap of Dinar/ad. He envied bis condition. Short sighted mortal ! he knew not that the smile which appeared upon his brow 171 was forced and habitual, and that content was a stranger to his bosom: he knew not that joy dwelt not in, his palaces, and that the downy pillow of repose was often planted v. ith the thorns of disappointment ; that care, presided over the banquet of festivity, "and that satiety embittered the purple draught of delight, and lurked beneath the farfetched viands of the east; and that a gilded robe did but veil a heart still more, uneasy than his own. This he could not discover; and when the whole train was past by, he left oft' Lis toil, and poured forth the language of impious discontent. " Why has Alia been praised for justice and mercy? His decrees are dictated by pride and caprice ; else why has he showered on Dinarxad the blessings of plenty, whilst he has afflicted me with poverty and want? Have I ever disobeyed the laws of the prophet ? Have I ever committed a crime worthy of this load of misery? Or has Dinarzad greater virtues than myself? No, Alia' Ik would have 172 proceeded but a supernatural spectacle stopped his blasphemous arraignment, of the supreme justice, and arrested his attention. A sturdy oak, which spread its foilage in majestic simplicity on the opposite side of the way, and seemed, by the continued rustling of its leaves, to hear with pain, the blasphemies of Almurad, disclosed by the gradual opening of its trunk, to his astonished view, a female form, the commanding exquisite beauty of which, the feeble imagination of humanity never could figure to itself' A robe of purest white, with a border of gold, covered and adorned a celestial form; an air of manifest superiority instilled a reverential awe into the bosom cf the woodcutter, whilst an air of heavenly condescension, dismissed every ground of fear. It was the fairy Bonama. In perfect submission, Almurad prostrated liiins* It' before her; she sweetly bade him rise, and aa ear to the words of supernatural po\vr; 175 he listened with attention, and she thui addressed htm. " O Almurad, hast thou arraigned the wisdom of Alia? hast ihou accused Omnipotence of caprice, because thine eyes were too dim to penetrate the the mazes of futurity? hast thou ] resumed to call in question the justice of his providence ? know, that the mercy of Alia saved thce from the lot of Dinarzad; still, as thou hast envied Lis lot, I will bestow upon thee all the blessings of wealth and honour, which are the objects of thy dtsire, but if at any time satif-ty should render the gift of my hand* worthless and disgusting, return to this spot, throw the present into the rivulet, which mean- ders gently through the forest, and I shall ap- pear." After these words the fairy drew from her robe a purse of mean appearance, and presented it to Almurad ; then, without waiting to hear farther questions, plunged herself into the rivulet, and 174 disappeared amongst its wcitcr*. A'murad was now left alone, struck with astonishment at tlic scene which had passed before his view. Alter however, the first emotions of surprise had a little subsided, he began to reflect upon his condition* He thought the gift of the fairy was mean and unworthy a superior being; the purse was shabby and light, and he reflected, if it supported his family a few days, he should be after that time reduced to his pristine condition ; and how could that small sum be compared to the wealth of Dinarzad ? Full of these mortifying reflections, he discontentedly poured the contents of the purse into his hands; it contained more than he expected, it filled his hands to an overflow ; in fine, In- discovered it to be inexhaustible, and reproached himself with the injustice of his murmurs. What now could equal the joy of Almurad? he found himself wilh the possession of this seemingly e mtrmjnible purse, the richest man in Syria, ave. lu 175 might say, in the world.- In the excess of his bliss he left his ax, and the money he had poured out of his purse, on the ground, and with the most transporting thoughts hastened homewards. AVhat a banquet for anticipation ! he had, before he reached his humble cottage, planned and rejected several schemes for his future life. "When he arrived he disclosed to Zimra, the wife of his bosom, the wonderful adventures of the day. She was at once astonished and delighted with the gift of the Fain'. The first care of Almurad was to procure a plentiful repast, to which he had been so many years a stranger. The rest cf the day was spent in delightful conversation, and in forming fresh plans of future happiness. In a week's time Almurad transported himself and his family to a distant part of Syria, where he might enjoy his newly acquired wealth, without ll\e gaze of intrusive observers, who had been witnesses of his former po\< r!y. 176 Almurad on his arrival, made a pur- chase of the sumptuous palace, and delightful gardens of an Omir r whose extravagance had dis- sipated his revenue, and c<>mp< 111 him to sell the palace of his fore-fathers, which he had adorned by his taste and ingenuity, and which had been the seat of his luxury and dissipation. \\'h n Almurad became the possessor of tins new and magnificent mansion, he thought hin.self at the very summit of happiness. Every fai.cied pleasure lhat wealth could furnish him with, lay in his power; "littering vestments, a splendid retinue, a sumptuous table, loaded with every delicacy nature could afford, or art could extort from hr, and eternal parties of pleasures, with that honour und respect which are the sure concomitants of wi-ahh, Almurad figund to himself in abundance; neither was he disappointed: these it was it! his power to acquire, though it was not equally in 177 his power always to enjoy them. When he awoke in the morning he found himself reclining on a bed of down, with a canopy, beautifully em- broidered with gold, with slaves, and officers in magnificent habits, waiting at his call; the air was perfumed with the sweetest odours of Arabia ; every scene displayed taste and grandeur. When he arose, a golden ewer was brought to him, to perform his morning ablution; he then went to tho mosque, where he arrested the attention of the audience on himself, and diverted it from its devotions, by the splendour of his general appearance. Jn a magnificent apartment a banquet was served up to him, loaded witk all the delicacies the east could furnish. He afterwards retired to one fitted up in a still more sumptuous manner, where he enjoyed, in the cool, wine, and a desert fit to be placed before the Caliph himself. He then entered the gardens of the palace, where he hoard, with sensations of extreme delight, the song of the N 178 Nightingale, and the gentle fall of the fountains, xvhich wore scattered in picturesque variety throughout the gardens ; and exhaled the perfumes of the odoriferous plants, which grew as it were, wild in every direction. In the evening a band of female slaves, fairer than the houries of Paradise, joined in concert ; where the sounds of the lute, rningk'd with the most melodious voices, produced a ravishing effect. Delighted \\ith the amuse- ments of the tlay, to which novelty Knt most of her charms: Almurud retired to his couch, ^nd listed the pc-acviul blumbirs of repose. '1 he next day Almurad enjo^id the same pleasures, but without the astonishment with which be had before regarded every object. The third day, the novelty of the scene big-tn a little to wear off, and in a peek's time, hefclt tired of confining himself so long in his palace and gardens, aod panted for more active pleasures. lie engaged in tin pleasures of the chace, and when he viewed the magnificence 179 f bis own equipage, he reflected, with sensations of joy, upon the time when he had envied that of Dinarzad. He was tolerably sucessful, and determined frequently to enjoy an amusement which had yielded him so much gratification. Another time he set out on an aquatic excursion, and reclined on a voluptuous sofa, viewed from his pleasure boat, the picturesque objects on the banks of the lake, while the silver oars plowed the glassy surface of the stream, dashing responsive to the sweet sounds of the lute. The princely magnifi- cence of Almurad soon introduced him to the acquaintance of the Nobles of the land, whom he invited to a banquet, where he dazzled them by the delicacy and profusion of his viands, and the general splendour of his entertainment. But in the midst of this variety of pleasures, Almurad was mindful of the obligations his wealth imposed upon him : the poor found in him a steady friend and benefactor ; and if any of his friends or relations N 2 180 should have chanced to hear of his newly acquired possessions, and came to him for relief, they were nerrr repulsed from the door, and found in the house of Almurad an asylum and a home. In addition to this, whether influenced by the report of his virtues and liberality, or by the preternatural agency of the fairy, the Caliph honoured him with his friendship and protection ; and the favour of Amurath exalted hisslare to the highest pitch of dignity and power. Hut the time was yet to come when Almurad was to feel that the gift of the fairy was far from bfing truly desirable. His former humble condition rendered him incapable of filling any office of importance in the state, and his wealth rendered it unnecessary to engage in any other; every hour was an hour of leisure : and almost every one was an hour of idleness. Pomp and magnificence were now become familiar to his sight, and he no longer considered them as worthy of his attention. A continual course of sumptuous fare had rjtiated 181 his appetite, and taken away from him all relisk for the delights of the table ; by a frequent repetition he became tired of the chase, and his aquatic excursions soon appeared dull and insipid ; finally, a continual enjoyment of every pleasure at length diffused a langour and tedium over all. Nothing hangs more heavy on an active mind than the burden of inactivity, and this Almurad was com- pelled to endure in an excessive degree. He indeed felt it much more than those, who, from their infancy, had been nursed in the bed of sloth. He had , in his former penurious life, risen cheered with the approach of morn, and had retired to rest fatigued with the labours of the day. He now rose late, peevish and discontented, strolled about his gardens, where he found nothing new, and therefore nothing to amuse, or paid a visit to some of his new acquaintance, where he was received with formal expressions of regard, but not with the reality of friendship; for his wealth and magniii- v 3 182 cence had now begotten envy, and before its magic touch his virtues had disappeared, his bluntness and simplicity were converted into ill breeding and vulgarity, his little peculiarities into faults, and his faults into crimes of the blackest dye. After this, in the evening he retired to his couch, tired not with what he had done, but with having had nothing to do. But evils still more deplorable soon arose from his excessive wealth ; he grew not only unhappy in himself, but disagreeable to others. He in time began to be proud and consequential, and pride, engendered cruelty and hard hear ted ness : a tale of woe no longer inspired him with emotions of pity, and he now spurned the suppliant from his door, which had formerly been open to all. He was no longer cheerful, affable and condescending ; and he now regarded the inhabitants of the village, with arrogance and contempt, whom he had addressed in terms of familiarity before. His petu- lance rendered him odious to his slaves, his pride to the poor, and bis parade and ostentations to th rich and great. His slaves executed his orders with slow and sullen obedience; and he seldom rode out in the village but he received marks of odium and contempt, which could not but forcibly affect the sensible mind of Almurad. As for the rich, they took every opportunity of declining his invitations, and received his visits with such uniform marks of distant civility, as soon drove him for ever from their roof. Almurad was now heartily tired of his condition. A life of tedious inactivity, joined with the hatred and contempt of all classes, was beyond bearing. ' Fool that I was," cried he, 44 to rejoice at the possession of that which has made rae unhappy for ever. My former life was a life of happiness compared with this. And if the beneficent bciny, who, in compliance with my foolish petition, presented me with this execrable purse, would take it back again, and reinstate me in that condition, when 1 gained my own and my w 4 134 children's existence by the sweat of my brow, I should never trouble her with my wishes and my murmurs. It is yet in my power to retrieve my lot; I will proceed to the lake in the forest, where I toiled so long in happier days, return the fairy her present, and submit to her direction. In pursuance of his intention, Almurad left his household and estate to the management of his wife Zimra, to whom he disclosed the object of his journey, and after a few days travelling, attended only by one slave, arrived at the lake, the scene of his labours, his murmurs, and his unfortunate present. He threw it with indignation into the water ; out of which rose the fairy, with mildness and complaisance in her look, to the surprise and delight of Almurad, who expected to sec pictured on her countenance the anger his folly had deserved. He hung down his head to conceal the silent blush which tinged his cheek, while the fairy thus spoke. " O AJmurad, as in the bitterest herb of the plain 185 are found the most salutary medicines, so in the rigid school of experience hast thou acquired the treasures of wisdom and instruction ; and from the sufferings of thy youth hast learned the wisdom of the dispensations of the Omnipotent. Speak now, and disclose the wishes of thy breast; if it is in ray power to fulfil thy desires they shall bf once more executed. But remember, this is the last time that supernatural power shall carry them into effect. Let therefore moderation govern thy wishes, for in the extreme of wealth or poverty miser} 7 alone is to be found." " O great and munificent being 1" returned Almurad, " since thou hast deigned to put my future lot into my own power, I will return to the spot where I spent the gift of your hands in vain splendour and magnificence ; I will dispose of the dazzling bubbles I possess, retire to the place of my nativity, and support myself and children in comfort, and even opulence, by gentle industry." The fairy smiled approbation, and pulled from her 186 yobe a small book, which she told Almurad to preserve with care, as a jewel more precious than the fairest diamond in the mines of Golconda. Then plunging into the rivult t, instantly disappeared. Almurad hid the book in his bosom, and disappeared to execute his intention. He sold his palace, gardens, and estate, and with the produce n turned to the place of his nativity, where he lived long in peace and content, happy in himself, and diffusing happiness around; f-r in the gift of the fairy he found a lesson to purify the heart, amend the manners, and guide him through life, in the paths of virtue and integrity. 6, 1807. Eleven years old. 187 POETRY. HIS ELDEST BROTHER'S BIRTH-DAT. -1 HE Powers who watch o'er the fate Of each of us mortals below, Were assembled, in solemn debate, The lot of their charge for to know. Some argu'd the blessings of wealth, And the honour which riches procure- Some said that the blessings of health Were only possess'd by the poor. 188 They said that the cottager's brow Was never a stranger to rest : That labour that rest did bestow, And therefore the peasant was blest. Some said that the tent corer'd plain Should be the proud scene of his fame ; And some that the boisterous main Should re-echo the sound of his name : That an ardour his breast should enflame, With the greatest and bravest to vie ; A niche in the temple of Fame, Near a SIDNEY or NELSON, to buy. And various means they propose, To health, and to power, and to ease, Life's stream to glide down in repose, Impell'd by a prosperous breeze. 189 When midst the assembly was seen A nymph still more fair than the rest; So modest and graceful her mein, The powers gave way as she prest. They gaze on her form with delight, They admire the more as they view ; Her neck as the lily was white, The rose-leaf might envy her hue. To her they agreed to refer The cause of their solemn debate ; To fix, without longer demur, The lot which her choice should dictate. Not a murmur or a whisper was heard : She granted the humble request ; And blush'd at the honour conferr*d, And thus the assembly address'd : 190 " Tis not in the palace or tow'r, Tis not on the high gilded throne Tis not in the mansions of pow'r That happiness only is known " How passes the heroes renown, How quickly the lauril may fade; How soon all the honours we o\' r n Obscurely may die in the shade! u Nor there does true pleasure abound, Where the wealthy, and thoughtless, and gay, The night spend in Luxury's rouud, In frivolous pleasures the day. * But his be the blessings of peace; May Virtue enlighten his road : For there must true happiness cease, Where Virtue forsakes her abode. 191 " Tho' none of the blessings of wealth, Nor honour, nor grand; nr, attend; Yet quit t, and freedom, and health, Kind Fortune, indulgent, shall send. " Tho' humble and lowly his dome, His besom with charity fir'd ; The traveller, far from his home, Shall think it the home he desir'd. " May his open and liberal heart, Delight in assisting the poor; Relief to th ir sorrows impart, And soften the woes they indure. " Such blessings without an alloy, If you give your gracious consent, In peace may he ever enjoy, And join to the blessings Content." April 9, 1808 THE POT-BOY. LET poets sing the high flown praise, Of shepherds and of rural joys ; Whilst I direct my humbler lays, To town, its bustle and its noise. The Pot-boy's joys shall be my theme, Nor shall a barren subject be; When rising from some lightsome dream, Whitechapel streets he treads with glee. Bliss is not always join'd to wealth, Nor dwells beneath the gilded roof; For poverty is bliss with health, Of that my Pot-boy stands a proof. 193 See him with steady footsteps here, How straight he bears the brimful jug, And sips with thirsty lips the beer, Which high o'ertcps the pewter mug. When night resumes her gloomy sway, The object of his fond desire; How happy then he'll sport and play, Around the blazing kitchen fire. Then to beguile away the time, He tells the kitchen nymphs his tale ; His left hand bears some doggrel rhime, And in his right's a pot of Ale. And hard must be that kitchen fair, Who could his am'rous tale neglect ; And often Moll or Jenny dare, For him some stouter swain reject. O 194 Then weary to his garret hies, Or if the beds perchance be spare, Upon the straw he'll close his eyes, And sleep with Dapple or the mare. Composed August 12, 1806. II even years old. These Lines were occasioned by a Copy of Verses presented to the young Author upon the trite snd familiar subject of the Plough-Boy , he thought he could not offer a better companion to it than that of tin Pot- Boy. 195 ON A FIECE OF IVY Taken from the ruins of Tiutern Abbey, in Monmouthshire. WHAT ruins are those I survey, Aiul which strike with such reve'rence my eye? The tcr.vVs of old Tintern are they, 'i he tow'rs on the banks of the Wye. i The Abbey once flourishing stood, And wiih Monmouthshire's proudest might vie, When lii_ih, it o'ershadow'd the flood, Which laves the green banks of the Wye. But Tintt-rn's noiv mould'ring away, Her prosperous days are past by ; And fallen in utter decay Are the tow'rs on the banks of the Wye. 02 196 Yet still as the travelers advance, And the Abbey's grey ruins descry, They cast many a wandering glance At the tow'rs on the banks of the Wye. But the fortunes of Tintorn are gone; No more rises its head to the sky ; And the Ivy stands witness alone, To the tow'rs on the banks of the Wye. The Ivy which grew on its wall, When Tiritcrn was flourishing high ; The Ivy which grew at its fall, On the tow'rs by the banks of the Wye. A slip of that Ivy remains, Nor, with tenderness propt, shall it die, But stand witness for ages again, To the tow'rs by the banks of the Wye. To reflection and memory dear, Tb.p Ivy shall be in my eye ; When I see it, I think with a tear, Of the tow'rs by the banks of the Wye. Compoied, August, 33, 1808. Eleven years old. These Lines were written at the request of a young Lady, who in her Jonrntv into Wales, on admiring the beauties of Tintern, was in- duced to take a slip of its Ivy growing on the wails, and plant it ia her uced to take a slip o er Father's grcu-. 198 VIRTUE AND VICE, An Allegorical vision, IT was on one mild autumnal eve I ?at Within the shady limits of a bower Glad to retire from Phcebus' piercing heat, And taste the sweets which nature's works afford : A boVr it wa? with nature's choicest sweets, 5 And her most precious gifts to man, bedeck'd ; The ivy clinging to the sturdy oak, And Jcsamine were there, the woodbine here; And there the spreading honey suckle grew. 'Twas here J sat and read, whilst the quick hours 10 In swift succession roll'd away beside, The rise, the increase, a d the fall of Rome; Imperial Rome, the Qurcn of Nations, And admiration of a womi'ring world. I read her rise, so studiously conccul'd; 15 199 From guilty loves and broken vestal vows, How meanly sprung. I read those conquests then, Which raised her to her grandeur's highest pitch, When virtue triumph'd, and when justice ruled The high all-ruling fasces of the state. 20 I read her fall, by sloth and lux'ry caused, And all the hideous retinue of ills Attending on them. Then injustice came, And stern oppression, with its iron rod ; Then from the north a fierce unnumber'd band 25 Of Goths and Vandals rushing came, and rill'd Her streets with carcases of slaughter'd citizens, And inundated Rome with Roman blood. Thus 'twas I read, and laid aside the book, And foil into a train of thought profound, 30 Upon the instability of all That man or human art has made. How chang'd That forum where the strains of Tully once Infus'd fresh vigour in each Roman breast, And crush'd in embryo the foes of Rome. S3 04 No more through captive rows of King's subdued The iv'ry chariot bears the victor chief In proud procession to the capitol. No more resounds the crowded amptitheatre, With long applauding shouts of gazing Romans. 40 The trav'ller treads the unregarded path Where once the vengeful gladiator's arms, In savage triumph, pierced his comrade's breast. Nought but the name, alas ! of Rome remains ; Her fame, her fortunes are for ever fallen ! 45 By thoughts like these combining, overcome, I yielded to the influence of sleep. I sat, me thought, upon some mountain's brow, Revolving in my mind I know not what, When two celestial beings straight appear'd, 50 Of figure graceful and majestic mien ; But in the one shone forth a majesty Superior, and which scem'd to claim from all Respect and admiration justly due. The other, in return, an air possev-M 55 201 Which fix'd on her each gazer's wand'ring eye, And won its entrance into ev'ry heart. And that, glitt'ring veil her charms conceal'd And hid her seeming beauty from my gaze. The other then, whilst \vith attention fix'd 60 A list'ning ear I lent, her speech began : " Child of the earth, attend and lend an ear, To that my love to you dictates ; My name is Virtue ; my abode is here, My final mansion of repose is heav'n. 65 There stands my hated rival, Vice by name, And many a hapless wretch, by her deceived, Too soon hasfollow'd those deceitful paths Which lead to mis'ry and to ruin sure, And plunge the victim in that dark abyss 70 Whence 'tis not in the pow'r of man to rise. I come in time to warn you then to fly The paths of guilt and mis'ry; follow me; Though rough and strew'd with thorns, the path you'll tread Is safe, and surely leads you to that source 75 02 Of bliss ineffable which ought to be Man's chief, man's only aim ! make then your choice; Choose bliss with me, or misery with her. Words such as these the awful goddess spoke, And soft persuasion sat upon her lips. 80 I rose to follow where she chose to lead, When Vice, enrag'd to see her purport thus Defeated, on a sudden interven'd, And stopp'd me in the path, before me stood, And thus in words of well fcign'd anger spoke : 85 " Rash mortal, will you thus submissive yield A dastard slave to yonder tyrant there ? Shall virtue's charms attention claim alone, While mine, neglected, pass in silence by? Her paths with thorns and briars strew'd she owns; ,90 No care intrudes upon the joys of mine; Mine are the pleasures ofthe festive board, The splendid retinue, the purple robe, And gilded palace, tow'ring to the skies; -Mine cv'ry pleasure wealth or honours give ; 95 205 But see, she beckons, haste, attend her call ; Leave all the pleasures which my votaries taste, For her dull rules, instruction, and advice, Till wearied out at length with stern command, With cares unceasing, and with fruitless hopes, 100 In tears and anguish you bewail the day, When, leaving me and all my pleasures thus, You yielded to her execrable wiles-." Words such as these the wily Goddess spoke. Doubtful I stood, which path I ought to shun, 105 Or which to tread : I cast a wary glance Upon the path of virtue, dull and barren, And unalluring seem'd it to my eye ; The other full of joy and pleasure seem'd, And ev'ry object joined to draw me there. 1 15 Vice saw me tempted, and with gentle force, She drew me to the fatal flow'ry path ; Thus far I'd gone, I could not now retract, And not unwilling bent my steps. Virtue a glance of kind'ling anger sent, 120 204 Which mild reproach' d me for the path I chose; Then from my sight she vanish'd into ; Still on my mind her words impression made And as I thought on them I cast a glance Of keen suspicion on my comrade fair ; 125 Rut soon the sight of objects sweetly join'd For pleasure and for comfort sweetly join'd, For pleasure and for comfort lull'd asleep Each dark suspicion as ircross'd my mind. Softly the rivers flow'd through verdant banks. 130 Which flow'rs of various hue and soft perfume Enamell'd ; kindly my fair comrade spoke, And if perchance a spectre glanc'd across, And terrified me with its horrid view, She would encourage me, and say 'twas nought 135 But the mere phantom of my brain, disturb'd By Virtue's foolish precepts. On we went, Till to a lofty splendid dome we came, Of purest marble, built like that which once The God of Delphi's splendid fane adorn'd, 1 40 205 Of marvellous construction, and within Bedeck'd with gold and silver ornaments, In order fair and seemly rank arrang'd; Such on the whole it was as justly claim'd My wonder and surprize. Senseless awhile 145 The wonders of the fabric I survey'd, And thought the boasted works of Eastern art Were but a rude imperfect sketch of this. Thus as I thoughtful gaz'd, ten damsels fair Of graceful air and modest mien, approach'd, 150 And did with softest courtesy invite My entrance in the dome I long admir'd. A banquet there I saw of choicest viands, And costly wines from distant climes compos'd, The sprightly dance and song succeed the feast 155 And fill my soul with rapturous delight. Heated, at length, with wine and costly food, And by the minstrel's lawless songs inspir'd, And dancers intermingled revel'ry, Sudden I rose, and pray'd my comrade fair, 160 206 To draw aside the glitt'ring veil that hid The charms of ev'ry feature from my vu-w. Shi- granted my request, when straight appeai'd Not youth and beauty's complicated charms, But all the horrors i f deformity, And siiff contracted front of dull old age, If55 And vice in all her terrors then was seen ; A laugh malign of horrid triumph then Diffus'd itself o'er all her haggard feature;, And made deformity still more deform'd. Amaz'ci I stood, and woruk-r'd at the change, 170 And turn'd in mute disgust my face away ; " Rash fool," she cried, " and could you, not content With all the joys my favour heap'd upon you, Dare to impose upon my kindness more ? Such as I am you sec me now, receive 175 The pains your folly richly has dcserv'd." She said, and waved her wand with mischief fraught, When lo the fabric with unheard of crash, From the once splendid edifice was chang'd 207 Into, as 'twere, a dungeon's thickest gloom. 180 Who shall describe the feelings of my mind, When thus I saw myself with horrors dark, And thickest gloom, surrounded ? On I went ; Through rocks and quagmires bent my dang'rous path, O'erwhelm'd with anguish and repentant tears. 185 Thoughts of remorse my actions past excite, My present state the horrors of despair. Deep I repented of my foolish choice ; And if e'er more I saw the light of day, Resolv'd to be fair Virtue's constant friend ; 10 And often would imagination active Conjure up horrid phantoms to my view; The serpent's hiss, and ven'mous adder's bite, When no such real ill awaited me : And oft the furious workings of despair 195 Would point the dagger to my panting breast, When some kind ray, of hope would intervene, And bid me sheath the fatal blade again : When, lo 1 an instantaneous blaze of light, 208 And a melodious symphony, announc'd 200 Some goddess coming from the realms of air; When swift descending in a silver cloud, Virtue before me stood, and thus began : Rash son of Adam, you have tasted now The joys you sought before, the joys for which 205 You left the pure immortal bliss of Virtue ; The flow'ry path, the high and splendid dome, The costly feast, have all been your's in turn ; Vice has display'd each pleasure she possest, And now has left you sunk 'midst all her pains. 210 This dark and dreary cavern's gloom presents A horrid contrast to the brilliant sight Which late regal'd your view. Where now is fled The soft delusion u Inch detained you slave To the fell syren's too destructive charms ? 215 Unknowing where to fly for refuge now, Repenting of your ill-directed choice, To me you bend a suppliant for life. Tis well, repentance comes not yet too lat, 1109 And you may yet enjoy the bliss you seek." 250 Grateful I rose to thank the goddess, here, My action broke the silken bands of sleep, 1 found with sorrow 'twas a dream alone. Night o'er the earth had spread her sable wings, And Cynthia shed her soothing lustre round ; 225 Unveil'd by clouds, in vain the twinkling stars, To emulate her pallid splendor, strove. All was serene, not e'en a zephyr's breath Dar'd to disturb a single leaf's repose. No voice was heard, save when the evening lay 230 Of Philomel resounded through the grove, Whilst Echo warbled back her tuneful notes. Homeward 1 went, deep pond'ring in my mind The strange events which fancy's pow'r had wrought. Compoted August 27, 1806. Eleven yf.'. 210 THE PLEASURES OF HOPE. Pi AIL thou whose pow'r can stop the source of woe, Thou who canst bid the stream of comfort flow, Receive my humble pray'r with me to dwell, Nor scorn to visit this my humble cell. Drive from my breast each dark intruding care, Teach me with smiles misfortune's stroke to bear Inspir'd by thee, henceforth by night and day, Thy praise shall form the theme of ev'ry lay. See there, the sport at once of wind and wave, No mortal pow'r yon wretched bark can save; Above, the thunders roll, the lightnings fly, And blackest clouds obscure the azure sky : Beneath, appears the horrid vast profound, Far is the dicvring sight of native ground. 1211 Now rising high they seem the clouds to sweep, Then sink again in ocean's hollow de-op. On cither side two liquid mountains rise, And hide the heavens from their longing eyes ; Dark is the prospect round, a wat'ry grave Seems opening for them in each rising wave ; -And each surrounding object's horrid gloom, Portends their final lamentable doom : Yet still with heart unmov'd, with eye serene, The sailor views the horrors of th-c scene ; Though life hangs trembling on one slender thread, No base unmanly tear of terroi's shed. What is't sustains him in this trying hour? Sure it must he some more than mortal pow'r. Tis Hope, the first of human bU swings here ; Hope from his breast excludes each rising fear; 'Tis hope which lightens all his load of pain; He hopes to see his native land again, To taste the joys he once possess'd before. And brave the perils of the sea no more. I 212 A noble youth, the matron's only pride, Fell by the ruthless chance of war and died : But still, unconscious of her future cares, The anxious dame a sumptuous feast prepare'?, When leaving all the toils of tented fields, The hero's heart to joy and pleasure yields. But, lo ! the day gives way to sable night, Nor comes the youth to bless her longing sight. Alarm'd and sad she now retires to rest, But sleep's a stranger to her throbbing breast. Soon as the rosy morn illumes the east, She leaves her couch with wild disorder'd haste ; Hastens with steps unequal to the door, And once again displays her choicest store. She thinks she sees the lung expected face, In fancy folds him in her fond embrace; But now a post arrives, the battle's won, But the relentless ball has pierc'd her son. Tears now the matron's aged face bedew, When hope soft whispers, this may not be true. With joy the dame the pleasing thought receives, 'Twixt hope and fear she moderately grieves, Till the dead corpse display'd beyond relief, Her soul becomes a prey to certain grief. See yonder wretched slave, compell'd t' obey A cruel master's rude tyrannic sway. Wild in his native woods he chanc'd to roam. And in its mazes lost his much lov'd home; A band of Britons near in vain he flies, They overtake, and hail him as their pri2c. His noble spirit now hy slav'ry broke, Sad, but resigu'd, he bends beneath the yoke. Cheerless to him, the sun's returning ray But wakes him to the labours of the day ; To hardest toil, to coarse and scanty fare, To stripes a wanton lord compels to bear; His warmth repress'd, his service ill repay'd, Nor friends nor kindred near to grant him aid ; There, there's the wound which rankles in his heart, From wife, from children, from each friend to part. $14 Though wiie nor child for twelve Inng years he's seen, He still forgets not that such things have been ; He still remembers round the blazing fire, How his boy's prate would oft amuse his sire And to his view as fresh ris<> Zani's charms, As when he first had pr/st her to his arms. When thoughts like these of pleasures past occur, Thou, gentle Hope, dobt then exert thy pow'r, Thy pow'r to soften woe, heal rach disease, And set at once the aching heart at ease ; He hopes his cruel lord may yet relent, If not, he thinks to fly without consent ; To leave a scene of sorrow and of pain, Once more to see his native land again ; Again to press his Zara to his breast, And taste once more his former ease and rest. When rash Pandora rais'd the fatal lid Which ev'ry source of human mis'ry hid, Confus'd, astonish'd, sunk the trembling maid. And call'd on Jove and ev'ry pow'r for aid. 215 Then look'd if ought might still perchance remain. Whose flight she could with hasty hand restrain, Hope, from beneath, a form angelic, rose, To heal the curious maid of all her woes. And thou beneath each bitter cup art found ; And thou canst heal and soften ev'ry wound ; Nor till forsaken, gentle nymph, by thee, Can any mortal truly wretched be. Composed. October I, r' Jr.'i'wn Yt.irs nhl. 216 CHARACTERS OFTEN SEEN BUT LITTLE MARKED. A SATIRE. Ri den tern decere veruin, Quid vetat ! HOT. WHERE sage advice and grave instruction fail, Satire, well turn'd, and keen, will oft avail ; Folly and vice their heads confounded hide, When the laugh turns on injur'd virtue's side; And the rash youth, who call'd his father fool, Who gravely tried to make him bend to rule, Will own the stronger influence of wit, And yield to reason, and to rule submit. Such pow'rs of wit I claim not, nor pretend An age of folly by my song to mend ; sir Some outlines here I've drawn, rough sketch'd, but true, Though few can boast their origin as new ; And if a feature here and there appear, To make the faint resemblance rather clear, Success my fondest wishes then has crown'd, The humble object of my search is found. When pride and passion prompt the poet's song, His wit then ranges on the side of wrong ; For me, nor passion, prejudice, nor prick-, Shall make me deviate from virtue's side ; Vice not the vicious, manners not the men, Shall call forth all the efforts of my pen. Cease thus my prologue, without farther stay, I'll open now the subject of my lay. In Dives vice and folly held their seat, To make a haughty vicious fool complete ; He'd vice enough to make the proud asham'd, With pride enough to make e'en virtue blam'd; 218 A fool approv'd, in word, in deed, in thought, A silly self conceited thing of nought ; By all survey'd with disapproving eyes, The poor detest him, and the rich despise ; Lastly, in him no good, no noble part, Can veil from view a black and treach'rous heart; Still, strange to tell, where'er he chanc'd t' appear, Applause and flatt'ry ever followed near : He mov'd, attentive roll'd each gazer's eye, As if some man of sense and wit were by. You think 'tis strange a fool attention draws ; To solve the myst'ry, I'll explain the cause, Dives is rich ; his purse not fill'd with lead, Far longer, and far deeper, than his head ; And were his wit as ample as his gain, He might have some pretence for being fain. To gold, Dives, that applause is due, Which your self-love ascribes alone to you. Plutuj is blind, his only just excuse For turning thui his power to such an use. 219 And here I cannot in my heart withhold, To pay my tribute of applause to gold; Gold is the friend of ev'ry rogue in pow'r, He feels its value each succeeding hour. Want you to stop a jarring hostile throat, "What better pleader than a ten pound note? Thickens each flimsy veil, each vague pretence, Makes wise men fools, the fool a man of sense ; Wealth, can in short, supply the vacant place,' Of manly features, of a handsome face, Of wit, of virtue, eloquence, and grace. And when old Rome her sway tyrannic bore, Thank heaven these bad times are now no more, I leaven against the poor and honest clos'd, The wealthy sinner's entrance ne'er oppos'd. Colax has not a single grain of pride, But cannot bear of friend or foe to chide ; See what he will, detest whate'er he see, His neighbours' words and his are sure t* agree. Comes up an artful knave, to Colax hies, Joyful to meet an all complying prize ; Colax submits, an unopposing prey, And has not heart to drive the rogue away. Colax has seeds of virtue in his bivast, And there for Colax will they ever rest ; His fear of saying what he thinks offends, Makes cv'ry rogue and him most constant friends. That Colax has good parts no doubt is true, If Colax would but call them out to view. His casting vote a worthy friend desir'd, He gladly gave the easy boon rcquir'd; Another socn appears the same request, He hates the man, his principles detests; To sooth him yet, he blames the man he loves, And disayows the choice his heart approves. 'Tis thus a faiee mistaken sense of shame, Impairs his fortune, and destroys his fame; To cv'ry rogue he bends o servile tool, And all desire a mild compliant fool : 221 And thus will Colax sink into the grave, The friend of truth, but error's greatest slave. Celia has ev'ry requisite and grace, Which can adorn a truly Christian face ; A 'meek, discreet, unalterable look, And always by her some good holy book. Does she stir out, 'tis but to take the air, Stays she at home, she's always found in pray'r. At sermon time, the fan before her eyes, Tells all who do not know, that Celia cries ; But some far more incredulous than wise, Pretend to say we must rot trust our eyes ; That spite of all we hear and see without, Inside she's far from perfectly devout, And were her face an index of her mind, We should sec features of a diff'rent kind. Still Celia's wisdom, and her virtuous life, Make this appear the mere effect of strife ; All think the supposition can't be true, Till lately all the truth for certain knew, 222 When Celia, leaving virtue in the- lurch, Led a young beau of twenty-four to church. Things now are chang'd, and Celia with her name, Has lost each remnant of her former fame ; In sad retirement now she's left to grieve, She can no longer, if she would, deceive. Meet Febro how and wheresoe'er you will, You'll never find him walking slow and ."till : To see his rapid and unusual pace, The hasty look apparent in his face, You think he's surely business on his hands, Which more than usual care and speed demands ; But ask him where he's hastening thus to go? Febro stops short, declares he does not know. Febro was once requested by a friend, A trifling message on his part to send ; Before this message was one quarter o'er, Febro was off, and shut the passage door. With hasty motions Febro cross'd the street, And jostled every man he clwnc'd to meet ; 223 Febro, where this same friend in question lives, Tir'd with his walk, or rather run, arrives, His business ask'd, he stares, and stammers out He's quite forgotten what he came about; To learn his message then returns a train, O .^7 And has a second journey for his pain. Febro's wit, virtue, warm and gen'rous heart, Are render'd useless by this one frail part. Febro drives nearly all his friends away, And can't amend his fault for those who stay ; His foes ascribe it to a mad caprice, Which knows not where, or at what point to cease. But Febro's friends and foes are scarce alike, Though all laugh at him, few can e'er dislike ; His faults, the fruit of inconsiderate haste, Are soon committed, and as soon flown past. And when a high-rais'd heap of clay Shall hide poor Febro from the light of day, His virtues rising from this transient gloom, Shall bear him past the limits of the tomb- 224 All women will talk fast, and all talk long, But mischief holds its seat on Clara's tongue, Upon the ruins of her neighbour's name, Clara builds all her own ill-gotten fame. Studious to learn, and willing to reveal, Clara heeds not the pain which others feel. A friend of Clara was about to vfed A spouse well suited to the marriage bed ; To break this match, and disappoint the fair, Was a fit object of our Clara's care. The marriage eve arriv'd, she chanc'd to meet The unsuspecting lover in the street, Begins an artful, simple tale to tell, " I'm glad to see your future spouse so well; But I just heard" "What? cries the curious swain. " You jnay not like it, I must not explain. " \Vkat was the dear delusive creature at ? " O nothing, nothing, only, private chat, A pack of nonsense, it cannot be true, As if, dear girl, she could be false to you. A imilc of joyillumines Clara's eyes, To see the lover's jealous spirit rise. Jealous, alarm'd, he now desires to know All she has heard, and when, and where, and how ? AVhy nothing; but last night she just was seea Walking with young Leander on the green; The spiteful creatures say she walk'd too long, But I dare swear there could be nothing wrong. The lover heard enough, and off he flew, And found what Clara said was nought but true; "With her young cousin saw fair Leda walk, Engag'd in harmless, but familiar talk; Noted each step they took, and how both more, .And turn'd each smile into a suja-of love. No further scenes he waited now to view, But each suspicion quite coHlinn'd, withdrew; The match broke oft', the profferM gift refus'd, And the fair maid with blame -unjust abust'd. 'Clara's malicious triumph was complete, Ai> if she'd done jerac brave heroic feat; 226 This is but one exploit, and thousands more Of such base triumphs Clara gain'd before. Clara, with Titus, thinks she's lost a day Which some new source of scandal don't display. Tftis talc once heard, she calls her coach and pair. Tlie welcome tidings with her friends to share ; The fame of all, the good, the great, the wise, At Clara's mercy undistinguish'd lies. Clara is fame's ticegercnt here in town, And amply shares the lying dame's renown ; Her hundred tongues in Clara hold their scat, And make a one-tongued chatterer complete ; Till death, the terror of both rich and poor, Made, in his walks, a rap at Clara's door; Clara reluctant yields her fleeting breath, To the stern importunity of death. But what true mourner holds up Clam's bier? Or what true friend o'er Clara sheds a Uar? The foil disturber of her neighbour's peace, Who but is glad her slanders now must cease? 227 Grant but indulgence, this one portrait o'er, I'll lay aside the brush, and paint no more:. Thraso's red coat, cock'd hat, and long bright sword, Denote the fiery temper of their lord ; Tis not enough abroad to meet his foe, He must at home his useless valour shew ; And has in peace more widows, orphans, made, Than any warrior by his lawful trade. Thraso himself will boast each lie he's told, As if to lie's the same as to be bold j But if his friend the self-same truth darM ay, He'd not be sure of all his brains next day. ; Tis lucky Thraso has few friends to slay; He has kill'd half, and will drive all away. Whene'er he speaks, impell'd by idle fears, With mute attention, ev'ry coward hears ; Elate with praise they dare not but bestow, He'll say both what he does, and does not know. 22$ Whilst Thraso thus his auditors addrest, A stranger passing heard kim spout his best; Disgusted with his ignorance and pride, The stranger all his arguments denied. A warm dispnte arose, compcll'd to yield, Thraso with much reluctance quits tke field. The stranger soon receires the usual note, To meet again, and cut his rival's throat } But thou, ful monster, shall not here succeed, The cut-throat, throat-cut in his turn shall bleed To peak more plain, a deep, a mortal wound, Extended Thraso lifeless on the ground ; In bloom of youth, false honour dug hit grave, In death her victim, as in life her slare. False honour, chiefest source of human woes, Thou that turn'st bosom friends to mortal foes; Thy altars, daemon, human victims crown, And death and murder is thy sole renown. When reason yields her mild and mod'rate sway, Thy rule the gen'rous and the warm obey,. Tis then alone thon canit that power exert, And the best feelings of the mind pervert; Domestic peace and comfort fly from thce, And strife succeeds where love and peace should . be, Here stop my saucy muse, with wings of load, Too fur your dull presumptuous flight you've sped ; Reproving manners and reforming men,. Was a fit theme for Pope and Dryden's pen, And hast thou dar'd to tread the sacred ground, Where Pope and Drydcn fame immortal found. Hast thou e'en hop'd in this dull nerveless strain, The meed of conquest or applause to gain ? Groundless such hopes, thy only just pretence, To here and there a trifling grain of sense ; Still, though the critic, with disdainful frown, Cast, half perus'd, my little volume down ; Nor with one disapproving stroke shall deign To shew how lifeless and absurd my strain, 30 Still there arc some in whom, if I judge right,. My youthful labours will produce delight ; Though dull each thought, and languid ev'ry lay, With partial eye will some my linos survey. The torch of friendship shall supply the place Of warmth poetic and poetic grace; Friendship shall fondly call my numbers sweet, My thoughts sublime, my work in all complete; Such be my lot, however dull my lays, I care not, if the voice of friendship praise j Still can I not give up my muse entire* Still to poetic warmth in vain aspire, On fam'd Parnassus' ever blooming brow, Still must I seek the various flow'rs that grow, Still shall I seek Apollo's shclt'ring ray, To direr my spirits and inspire my lay. Complied 0<.ttber 8, 180ft. KIMS. LIST OP ATKINS, Miss, Mile End. Aiming, Mrs. 40, Michael's-place, Brompton. Armstrong, Rev. Geo. M. A. Winchester. Atherly, Arthur, Esq. Southampton. Atherly, Lady Louisa, ditto. Atherly, Arthur, Esq. Jun. dilto. Atherly, Miss, ditto. Aubery, Rev. Edward, M. A. Oriel College, Oxford. Archer, Mrs; South Moul ton-street, Queen's-squarc. Adam, John William, "Esq. New Grove House, Bromley-^ Middlesex, two copies. Arnold, Mrs. West Cowes, Isle 01" Wight. Adams, Miss, Dulwich. Adolphns, John, Esq. Pump-court, Temple, Adolph-is, Mrs, ditto. 11 B. Uletehyngdon, Miss, Great JamesVstrect, Bedford-row Bletchyngtori, Arthur, Esq. Calcutta. Bletchyngton, Master James, Great James's-street, Bedford-row. Crown, Thomas, Esq. New Grove, Mile End, five copies. 'Binmore, Mrs. Stepney-green. Bell, Mr. Enfield Highway. Bedwell, Philip, Esq. St. John-street, two copies -Bell, Henry, Esq. Kingston Gore. Barnfield, Mr. Ratcliff. -Brawn, R. Esq. Windsor. B.-awn, Miss, ditto. Burgess, Mrs. Enfield. Burgess, Miss, ditto. Barnouir, Mrs. Southampton. Barnouir, Miss, ditto. Waynes, Mr. Mile End. Brown, Master, Russel-strect. Blunt, Miss, Woodford. 'Blunt, Miss Eliza, ditto. Blunt, Master John Elijah, ditto. Blunt, Master Charles, ditto. Banford, Mr. Upper Norton-street. Brown, Robert, Esq. Gloucester Terrace, St.G*orge' Isted, Mrs. Istcd, Master Ambrose. K. Kent, Rev. Samuel, M. A. Southampton. Jvnox, Rev. D. G. M.A. Trinity College, Cambridge. Kemp, ?.Ir. Mile End. Kcyscr, J. Esq. Euytoiistonc. Knowics, Mr. .Southampton-place, four copies Xneller, J. Esq. Baker-street, Portrnan-square. Kitchiag, Mrs. Darlington. Kitching, Mr. Whitechapel. Kneller, Miss S. York-place. L. London, Lord Bishop, four copies. Liptrap, John, Esq. Bethntil-green. Law, Mr. Southampton-street. Law, Mrs. ditto. Lewis, Mrs. Southampton. Lintott, Mrs. ditto. Lindsay, Mrs. White Lion-street, Pentonville, Lambert, Mrs. Cowes, Isle of Wight. If. Mellish, William, Esq. M;P. four copies. Medley, Mr. Mercier, Col. Merceron, Joseph, Esq. Bethnal-green. Marshall, Thomas, Esq. Monkhorn, Thomas, Esq. Jermyn-street, two copies. Manbey, William, Esq. Stratford. Mackie, John, M. D. Southampton. Mant, Rev. R, D. D. ditto. Mears, Rev, Thomas, M. A. ditto. Middleton, Edward, M. D, ditto. March, Mrs. Gosport, Hants. Moore, Master. Milne, Mr. Leadenhall-street. Munday, Miss, Clapham Common, two copies. MTherson, Mrs. Col. Blairgorie, Scotland, three copies Mackentine, Mrs. Col. ditto, three copies. Milne, Rev. Mr. Enfield. Maynard, Mr. Isle of Wight. Moore, Miss, Edmonton. Maccauhey, Mrs. ditto. Morgan, Mr. Cowes, Isle of Wight. Maxwell, Mr. Parson's-green. Marsham, Mrs. Claphzm. Maton, Dr. Spring Gardens. Maude, Mrs. Mark-lane, two copies. Milner, Miss, Darlington. M'Nabb, Esq. Leake's Grove, Mile End, four copies. Meade, Hon. and Rev. Mr. Meade, Hon. Mrs. Meade, Master John P. Meade, Master Thomas Percy. Meade, Miss Theodosia B. Meade, Master Edward R. Meade, Master Henry H. N. Naytor, Mr. Enfield. Naylor, Mr. Ponder's End. Newham, Mr. Homerton. . XI Nichol, Mr. Nixon, Rev. Robert, Crayford, Kent, two copies. Nelson, Mr. Coleman-street Nash, Mrs. West Cowes, Isle of Wight Nesbit, Mrs. Tavistock-place. P. Packer, Mr. Jun. Mile End. Pyefinch, Mrs. Bow Road, two copies. Porter, Rev. Mr. Vicar of Enfield. Porter, Mrs. Enfield. Peache, Mr. Bancroft's Hospital, two copies Pensam, Mr. Amic.Soc. two copies. Proctor, Rev. Mr. Alnwick. Paulin, John W. Esq. Ratcliff. Poor, Rev. John, M. A. Kitchen, Hants. Packer, Mr. Jun. Mile End, two copies. Paulin, Major, Ratcliff. Pallet, Mr. four Copies. Pearson, Rev. W. Parson's-green, 12 copies. Price, Mr. Ratcliff, two copies. Pickering, Miss, Stepney. Philips, Mr. Frenche, near Bristol, two copies. Pilkington, Rev. C. Prebendary of Chichester. Packer, Mrs. Charlotte-street, Bloomsbury. Pease, Mr. Thomas, Darlington. Pyefinch, Mr. Fish-street-hill. Percival, Mr. Wadham-College, Oxford, R. llecordor of London, five copies. Reynolds, Mr. St. Jolm's-sJireet, two copies. Rigaud, Air. Upper Thornhaugh-strcet. Rashfield, .Miss, Chancery-lane. Rogers, Mr. Mile End. Ricardo, Mr. Bow, two copies. Ricardo, Mrs. Bromley, two copies. Rigaud, J. F. Esq. London-street, Fitzrcy-square. Rapcr, Robert, Jim. E,q. Chiccster. Ross, Mr. Bishopsgate-stieet. Ross, Mrs. ditto. Miohards, Rev. George, Cowes, Isle of Wight. Roberts, Rev. J. R. Upper Norton-street. Ratcliff, Rev. Mr. Rector of Limehonse, four copies. Repto, Mr. WestC'owcs, Isle of Wight. Ridley, Rev. Dr. Isle. of Wight. Ridley, Mrs. ditto. Ridley, Mr. II. J. ditto. Read, Mr. Circus., IMackheath. ItoLson, Mr. Edward, Jun. Darlington. llawes, Rev. Mr. lloughton Le Spring, Durham. Richie, John, Esq. Beaufort Buildings. Ran kin, Mr. Mile End. S. Steward, Miss, Whitehall. Steward, Miss L. ditto. Xlll Spain, Captain, EastCowes, Isle of Wight. Spain, Miss, ditto. Stable, Mr. High-street, Holborn. Saver. Miss, Assembly House, Laytonstone, two copies Stokes, Mr. Shorter's-court. Stephens, John, Green-streer, Grosvenor-square. Starey, Benjamin, Esq. Cheapside. Shackleford, Dr. Vicar of St. Sepulchre. Stephens, Mr. Chelsea. Spiccr, Mrs. Bow Road. Stables, Mrs. Ann, High-street, Bloomsbury. Snow, Mr. Ratcliff, two copies. Smith, Mr. Poultry, two copies. Smith, Mrs. ditto. Smith, Mr. E. \V. ditto. Stannard, Mrs. Chancery-lane, Snelgrove, John, Esq. Stratford Grove, Smith, Miss, Stratford. Sadler, Richard Yernon, Esq. ditto. -Smith, Joseph, Esq. Purbrook, Hants. Smith, Miss, ditto. Sarauda, David, Esq. Grove House, Tottenham. Scott, Mr. New Bridge-street, two copies. Stevens, William, Esq. Lambeth. Strong, Thomas Limvood, Esq. Limpsfield, Surrey. Saver, Mis, Mile End. Scroby, Mrs. Cranborne-ailey. Snell, Mr. Hanover-street, Drury-lane. XIV Sheddon, Mrs. Cowes, Isle of Wight. Shedden, Mrs. Geo. ditto. Slater, Mrs. Green-street, Enfield, two copies. Smith, Rev. Jennings, Dulwich-Collcge, four copies. Sier, Miss, Cowes, Isle of Wight. Stamper, Mr. Blackwall, near Darlington* Selby, Miss, Swansfield, Alnwick. Stephens, John, Esq. Old Jewry. Stanley, Mr. Maddox-street, Hanover-street, two copies Stillingfleet, Mrs. College-green, Worcester. T. Thirlwall, Mr. St. John-street, four copies. Thirlwall, Mr. Alnwick, two copies. Thompson, Mr. Winchmore Hill, two copies. Thompson, Col. Stepney, two copies. Taylor, Mr. Clapham Rise. Thompson, Mrs. Trinity House. Tennant, Mrs. Bromley, Middlesex, two copies. Travers, John, Esq. Russel-square. Travers, Miss, ditto. Trattlc, Mrs. Cowes, Isle of Wight. Turner, Mr. Mile End. Turner, Mrs. ditto. Todd, Mrs. Darlington. Topham, Rev. Ja. Darlington. Thorp, Miss, Alnwick. Thorp, Master, ditto. XV Theobald, Mrs. Great James-street, Bedford-row, two copies. V. Unwin, John, Esq. Shadwell, two copies. Vachell, Samuel, Esq. Bromley, Middlesex. Vachell, Mrs. ditto. Vachell, Miss, ditto. Vandil), Mrs. Orange-row, Whitechtipel. W. Weems, Mr. St. John-street, three copies. Williams, Rev. E. Curate of St. George, Hanover- square, 4 copies. Wilson, Stephen, Esq. Whitehall, four copies. Windle, Thomas, Esq. New Grove, Mile End. Watts, D. P. Esq. Portland Place. Whittaker, Rev. George, Southampton, two copies. Whitelock, Mr. Old Change. Wells, Thomas, Esq. Cheapside. Ward, Matthew, Esq. Somers-place. Watkins, William, Esq. Michael's-place, Williams, Mr. Strand. Williams, Mr. W. S. Strand. Walker, Miss, Mile End. Walker, Mrs. Stepney-green. Williams, Rev. George, Limehouse; Wightman, Robert, M. D. Southampton: XVI s, Rev. George. M. A. SouthamptoB, William, Alexander, Esq. Charlotte-street, Bloomsbury Wilkinson, Mr. Bow, Middlesex. Wedderburn, Sir David, Baronet, M. P. two copies. Wrench, Rev. 11. Kew. Wright, Miss, Woodfurd. Wollarton, Mrs. G. Clapham Common, six copies, Wallace. Mr. Edmonton. Watson, Col. two copies. White, Mrs. Stepney. Warner, Mis?, Dulwich. Williams, Mrs, Blackhcath. Wi!>fn, Mrs. Great Ilussel-street, Bloomsbury. A\ "iilium, ?drs. 1'}]>T Urrkley-street. Watt, James, Esq. Great (int'cn-stircr. W:.rnr-r, .Miss, Bridg:iiorth, four copies. William*, .".'.r. (ioo. Limchousc. Woodcock, Mr. IVlilcEud. Woodcock, Mrs. ditto. Y. Voting, Rev. Pr. Nt. d, Windsor Tcrrarc, City ERRATA, Page Line fil _ For Soiomo,,, TP - f <\ JUal u m. 1(0 r? lor Outer, re.vd Later 1*9 13 Head, or f/i/v^;-. 198 1 for /T *-,/, rrad'r,vr7 5 201 lor .-I/id in'd. 12 17 Forjj6zi, mil iiu. CIS 17 Krad, O /;. $''3 17 litid, wulpiur'd /icn;v la Octavo, Price 6s. in Boards, or, for the Use of Schools, in Urao. Price 4s. bound, INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, BIELBY, LORD BISHOP OF LONDON, BIATESSARON, OR THE HISTORY OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, Compiled from the Four Gospels, According to the authorized English Version, WITH BRIEF NOTES, PRACTICAL AND EXPLANATORY; To which are prefixed, A MAP OF THE HOL1" LAND, AND AN INTRODUCTION. BY T. TI11RLWALL, A. M. Pubksfied by the same Author, for the Use of Schools, In ICmo. Price 3s. 6d. hound, B3ATESSARON, SEU IXTEGRA HISTOR1A DOMINI NOSTRI JESU CHRISTI LA TINE, E* Quatuor Evangeliis inter se collatis ipsisque Evangelistarum verWs apte ft oidmate dispositfs confecta, VERSIONE PRSCIPOE CASTELLIONIS CASTIGATE ET EMENDATA. Cui Pracuguntut Tabula Palestina: Geographic*, necnon Ordo ilcruin. LONDOff; PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, And sold by Messrs. F. and C. Rivingtoii, St. Paul's Church Yard; J. Rob ?o n, JJew Bond-Street; C. 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