Enraptur'd there the mind unweary'd roves
Through flow'ry paths, and ever-verdant groves;
Such blissful groves not HAPPY EDEN knew,
Nor fancy's boldest pencil ever drew.

No fun departing, leaves the scene to mourn,
To droop and languish for his kind return;
Or with short vifits chears the wintry hours,
And faintly smiles on nature's drooping powers.
But there the DEITY himself. displays
The bright effulgence of his glorious rays;
Immortal life and joy his fmile bestows,
And boundless blifs for ever, ever flows.

THE BARREN FIG TRE E.
LUKE XIII. VI. &c.

M

Y barren foul, like this unfruitful tree, Brings forth no fruit of righteousness to thee; Yet, Lord, let me thy kind indulgence share, One year at leaft, if more thou wilt not fpare. Gently diftil thy grace-prolific fhowers, And sweetly water all my lifeless powers; The dormant fap fhall then spontaneous flow, And kindly fuccour each diftended bough: Each flender twig fhall then its bloffoms bear, And speak the wonders of thy fertile care.

WRITTEN

WRITTEN ON SEEING A PRINT, entitled, THE BAD MAN AT THE HOUR OF DEATH.

" WHEN A WICKED MAN DIETH, HIS EXPECTATION SHALL PERISH." PROV. X. VII.

So

OJOURNING here below, immortal man,
Enjoys the compass of life's narrow span;
Expires to live; yet lives afraid to die,
Struck with the import of eternity!

Say, whence this fear? or why this awful dread? To fleep, unnumber'd, with the mouldering dead; Why tugs weak nature, with th' expiring breath, To wage a conflict with the conqu❜ror Death? Or why reluctant yield to his demand, Since fent to execute God's juft command?

'Tis waking confcience, that fharp fcourge within, That fmites and wounds the outward man of fin; 'Tis guilt, inflicted on the finner's breast,

That robs his bofom of its downy rest. 'Tis fin, the parent of eternal shame, That ftrikes conviction through the languid frame; "Tis this, which ftands uncançell'd, unforgiv'n, That kills his hope, and bars his way to heav'n.

See, ghaftly Death, his pointed jav'lin rears, And frights the hardy wretch almost to tears; He ftarts!-he fhrinks !-uplifts the trembling hand, To fee the conqu'ror, clad with terror, ftand, Diftending horrors feize the starting eyes, And fpeak aloud, what want of fpeech denies. D 2

See

See how he dies!-The fpeaking nerves proclaim
What ftrong convulfions rend the tortur'd frame;
What palfy'd agonies of guilt inspire,
When parting nature bids the foul retire!

THE FOLLOWING LINES WERE WRITTEN BY A GENTLEMAN ON HIS WEDDING-DAY, TWO AND THIRTY YEARS AFTER MARRYING HIS WIFE, BEING NOW SICK AT BATH.

PAR

ARENT of health, to thee I awful fue,
Accept the tribute to thy goodness due';
A thankful heart I on thy altar lay,

An offering facred to this joyful day!

Thou haft with growing mercies bless'd my life,
And ev'ry mercy crown'd in fuch a wife;
As MARTHA careful, yet as MARY wife,
Endu'd with all the gifts which husbands prize:
If cares arife (for who from cares are free?)
My comforters are near-my God and the;
My troubled mind in prayer obtains relief,
My joys fhe doubles, and divides my grief;
Thou God of mercy, diffipate my fears,
And heal the much lov'd clay, thy image bears;
Confirm her health: in bleffing her bless me,
And let the BATH to her BETHESDA be:
Heaven has on earth no greater bliss in store,
And I no greater, next to heav'n, implore:
Preferve her then, my God-I ask no more!

}

RE

REFLECTIONS AT AN INN BY THE SEA-SIDE, AFTER A DANGEROUS VOYAGE.

BY THE REV. MR, JONES, VICAR OF CALDICUT.

BR

RING me, O bring me to my Juliet's arms, Whose beauty glads me, and whofe virtue charms: O fnatch me swift from these tumultuous fcenes, To where love knows not what affliction means: To where religion, peace, and comfort dwell, And chear with heavenly rays my lonely cell: To where no ruffling winds, no raging feas, Disturb the mufe amidst her penfive ease: Each paffion calm; each mild affection mine; Each focial grace; each human; each divine; Unknown in private, or in public ftrife, Soft failing down the placid ftream of life: Aw'd by no terrors, with no cares perplex'd, This life-my gentle paffage-to the next: Yet if it pleafe thee beft-thou power fupreme! To drive my bark thro' life's more rapid stream; If lowring storms my deftin'd course attend, And ocean rage till this black voyage end; Let ocean rage-let ftorms indignant roar, I bow fubmiffive; and refign'd, adore; Refign'd, adore; in various changes try'd, Thy own lov'd son, my anchor, and my guide: Refign'd, adore; whate'er thy will decree, My faith in JESUS, and my hope in thee. D 3

O hap

O happiest lot! if thro' a sea of woes,

I reach that harbour where the just repose!

A THOUGHT IN A GARDEN.

R

ECLIN'D I lay, where thro' my garden glides The smooth canal, and laves its verdant fides, While, vex'd with fecret melancholy pain, Thus to the glittering mirror I complain : "Why, envied ftream, when you fo clearly fhine, "Smiles not my bosom as ferene as thine? "O whisper, gliding to my anxious breast, "Why fighs it thus, and wifhes to be bleft?" Still penfive I complain'd; th' unanswering stream Still tinkled on, and lull'd me to a dream : There I beheld a beauteous nymph arife, Smiling her looks, and languishing her eyes; Startled I know my Partheniffa's air, And fly enraptur'd to the promis'd fair. So in the new-created Eden plac'd, With all th' Almighty's lavish bounty grac'd, God faw the folitary Adam grieve,

And want the sweet society of Eve;

A gentle flumber on his eyelids laid,
And Eve's bleft image in a dream convey'd.

THE