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For when, in all the charms of language drest,
A manly grief flows, genuine, from the breast,
What gen'rous nature can escape the wounds,
Or steel itself against the force of melting sounds?

0! could I boast to move with equal art
The human soul, or melt the stony heart;
My long-lov'd friend should through my numbers shine,
Some virtue lost be wept in every line;
For virtues he had many....'Twas confest
That native sense and sweetness fill'd his breast.
But cooler reason checks the bold intent,
And, to the task refusing her consent,
This only truth permits me to disclose,
That in your own, you represent my woes;

F. HOPKINSON.

Gollege of Pbiladelpbia, September 5, 1754.

ON THE SAME, BY A FELLOW STUDENT.

AND is your Martin gone? Is he no more,
That living truth, that virtue seen before?
Has endless night already hid the ray,
The early promise of his glorious day?
That grief, great Mourner! in such strains exprest,
Shews he was deep implanted in your breast.

Yet hark! soft-whispering reason seems to say,
Cease from your sorrows, wipe these tears away.
He's gone, he's past the gloomy shades of night,
Safe landed in th’eternal realms of light.
Happy exchange! to part with all below,
For worlds of bliss, where joys unfading flow,
And sainted souls with love and rapture glow.

S. MAGAv. College of Philadelphia, September 6, 1754.

ON THE SAME, BY A FELLOW STUDENT.

WHILE for a pupil lost, your sorrow flows,
In all the harmony of finish'd prose ;
While melting crouds the pious accents hear,
Sgh to your sighs, and give you tear for tear;

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We too, in humble verse, would treat the theme,
And join our griefs to swell the general stream.
For we remember well his matchless power,
To steal upon the heart, and cheer the social hour.

Ah! much lov'd friend! too soon thy beauties fade !
Too soon we count thee with the silent dead!
Thou, late the fairest plant in virtue's plain,
The brightest youth in wisdom's rising train;
By genius great, by liberal arts adorn’d,
By strangers seen and lov’d, by strangers mourn'd;
Blest in a tender brother's friendly breast;
And in paternal fondness doubly blest!
Art thou now sunk in death's tremendous gloom,
Wrapt in the awful horrors of a tomb?
Ah me! how vain all sublunary joy!
Woes following woes, our warmest hopes destroy !

But hark .....some voice celestial strikes mine ear,
And bids the inuse her plaintive strains forbear.
“ Weep not, fond youths,....it cries, or seems to cry....
“ He lives, your Martin lives, and treads the sky;
“ From care, from toil, from sickness snatch'd away,
46 He shines amid the blaze of heaven's eternal day.

J. DUCHE. College of Pbiladelpbia, September 7, 1754.

ON THE SAME.

CHECK, mournful preacher! check thy streaming woe, Pierce not our souls with grief too great to know; He joys above whom we lament below. Snatch'd from our follies here, he wing'd his way, To sing HOSANNAs in the realms of day. With him, the fight of life and death is o'er, And agonizing throes shall pain no more; No more shall fell disease, with wasteful rage, Blast the fair blossoms of his tender age ; Transplanted now, he blooms a heav'nly flow'r, Where spring eternal decks yon Amaranthine bower.

Thy pious sorrows, SMITH, to future days,
Shall bear his image, and transmit his praise.

Still, still I feel what thy Discourse imprest,
When pity throb'd, congenial, in each breast :
When deep distress came thrilling from thy tongue,
And sympathizing crouds attentive hung.

To mourn for thy lov'd Pupil all approv'd;
On such a theme 'twas virtue to be mov'd.
Whoe'er these tender pages shall explore,
Must learn those griefs the Pulpit taught before.

T. BARTON. College of Philadelphia, September 7, 1754.

ON THE SAME.

O DEATH! could manly courage quell thy power,
Or rosy health protract the fatal hour;
Could tears prevail, or healing arts withstand
Th' unsparing ravage of thy wasteful hand;
Then Martin still had liv'd a father's boast,
Nor had a mother's fondest hopes been lost ;
Then, Smith, thy darling youth, thy justest pride,
With virtue's first examples long had vy’d.

But he is blest where joys immortal flow;
Cease tears to stream, be dumb the voice of woe.
Releas’d from vice, in early bloom set free
From the dire rocks of this tempestuous sea,
The youthful saint, in heav'n's ambrosial vales,
With glory crown'd, etherial life inhales.
No more let grief repine, or wish his stay,
In this dark gloom, this twilight of our day.
Rather we'll hail him fled from night's domain,
Array'd in light to tread the azure plain.
There science dwells ;....before the mental eye
Nature's stupendous works unfolded lie;
There wisdom, goodness, power diffusive shine,
And fire the glowing breast with love divine.

P. JACKSON, College of Philadelpbia, September 7, 1754.

PERSONAL AFFLICTION AND FREQUENT REFLECTION

UPON HUMAN LIFE, OF GREAT USE TO LEAD MAN TO THE REMEMBRANCE OF GOD.

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PREACHED

IN CHRIST CHURCH, PHILADELPHIA,

SEPTEMBER 1, 1754.

ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED PUPIL.

PSALM xliii. 6.

O my God! my soul is cast down within me, therefore will I

remember thee. IT is elegantly said by the author of the book of Job*, who seems to have experienced all the dire vicissitudes of fortune, “ That man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards.”

These Troubles, however, as the same author further observes, serve the wisest purposes, inasmuch as they are not the effects of what is called blind Chance, but of that unerring Providence, which graciously conducts all events to the general good of the creature, and the final completion of virtue and happiness. " Affliction comes not forth from the dust, neither does trouble spring out of the ground.” Very far from it. At that great day, when the whole council of God shall be more perfectly displayed to us, we shall be fully convinced, that all his dispensations have been wise, righteous, and gracious; and thatt “ though no chastening for the

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present seems joyous, but grievous, nevertheless it afterwards yields the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that are exercised thereby.”

Of the truth of this we might indeed soon be convinced, at present, were we but wise, and suffered ourselves to reflect on what we daily see. 'Tis with the greatest injustice, that men ascribe their sins wholly to worldly temptations, and inveigh upon all occasions against this life on account of its vanities. These, if well attended to, would perhaps put us on our guard against sin; and, upon inquiry, it will be found that the great and general cause of all iniquity, is a stupid listlessness, or want of consideration; which, like some vast weight, oppresses the more generous efforts of the soul, and bears all silently down before it, unless checked by the powerful hand of affliction.

I sincerely pity the man who never tasted of adverse fate; and were I capable of wishing evil to any person, I could not wish a greater to my greatest soe, than a long and uninterrupted course of prosperity. A flattering calm portends a gathering storm; and when the stream glides smooth, deep and silent on, we justly suspect that the sea or some declivity is near, and that it is soon to be lost in the vast ocean, or to tumble down some dreadful fall or craggy precipice.

Such appears his state to be, who never knew an adverse hour, nor took time to consider whence he came, where he is, or whither bound. There is room to be apprehensive lest, being drunk with prosperity, he should swim smoothly from joy to joy along life's short current, till down he drops, through the pit of death, into the vast ocean of eternity! If we

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