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sionally sent, to visit this quarter of the Island; but, from causes unknown, those invitations had never been accepted. By the Conference this year, he received his appointment to the city of New-York, and prepared accordingly to leave New-London. He had already engaged a passage, put his trunk on board the Packet on Monday morning, and was ready to embark, when, in consequence of a contrary wind, it was thought necessary to defer the departure of the vessel until the next day. Brother Lee returned, and spent the evening in his room. While pouring out his soul in secret devotion, he felt in his heart an unusual glow of love to God and concern for the salvation of Men, an impression, which no reasoning could remove, weighed with force upon his mind, that it was his duty immediately to visit Southold, and there proclaim the crucified Saviour. The struggles of his mind, kept him awake the greater part of the night, but at length he yielded to the sacred impulse of duty: The state of Long Island, being presented to his view, in a point of light, so vivid and interesting that he determined, forthwith to pursue the path which divine wisdom appeared to designate. To excite your admiration of the disposals of an all intuitive and superintending providence, I need only remark, that these exercises of the zealous minister of Christ took place exactly at the same time, and on the same evening, that the little company were pleading with God in the grove at Southold. How nearly parallel with the case of devout Cornelius related Acts 10.

In the morning Brother Lee applied to the presiding Elder, or more probably to Bishop Asbury, who it is supposed was at that time in town, for permission to change his destination and make a visit to Southold. This permission obtained, he crossed the sound on the same day, landed a short distance from the town, and was soon conducted to the house of Mrs. Moore. His arrival was no sooner announeed, than the pious lady came herself to the door, and welcomed him with the Christian simplicity of former times, "Come in thou blessed of the Lord, come in." Brother Lee entered, but his heart was too full for utterance, he could only vent his feelings with tears of wonder and joy. After the lapse of a few minutes, he related the manner and cause of this unexpected visit; and heard, from the lips of Sister Moore, a recital of what had occurred, relative to herself and those associated with her, particularly on the previous evening. Both, struck with the remarkable coincidence of facts, united with grateful praise, to adore the astonishing goodness of God.

Brother W. Lee spent four or five weeks among the affectionate friends, which he found in this place, and then repaired to his station in New-York. In the following Spring, Brother J. Clark formed a Class of about twelve members, some of which remain to the present day, but others have departed to a glorious reward in the skies. The little band struggled for many years through innumerable difficulties. But the auspicious day has arrived, "The set time to favour Zion has come," and the happy remnant, who went forth with weeping, bearing precious seed, return with rejoicing, bringing their sheaves with them. From this beginning arose the present society of sixty members.

The gospel of the Kingdom flourishes. I have told what God has done only in one solitary corner; But it is no new thing to hear that God pours out his spirit upon his people, in these latter days. The tidings of new accessions to the cause of religion, daily, salute our glad ears, and add fresh vigour to exertion. I cast my eyes with interest, over the wide field. Delightful prospect! abundant harvest! Honoured reapers !-Honoured to serve the King of kings. Happy do I feel myself, very Dear Sir, if even permitted to follow the more skilful and experienced reapers, and collect the gleanings of a Harvest so glo

rious.

I am Dear Sir, respectfully Yours, &c. REY. S. MERWIN.

JOHN M. SMITH.

POETRY.

For the Methodist Magazine.

THE DAY OF

WAKE heavenly Muse, attune thy noblest lay, And sing the glorious, long predicted day, When, rob'd in majesty, our God shall come, Thron'd on a cloud, to call his children home.

JUDGMENT.

Judgment begins; the books are open'd wide
On either hand the gathering crowds divide;
While all in heav'n, in earth, and hell draw near,
Their great, decisive, destiny to hear.

The time shall come, when num'rous years are Rang'd on the right, the just in order stand,

o'er,

Th' eternal day shall dawn, to close no more;
O glorious day! O morning most sublime!
The brightest era of revolving time!

Driv'n from their orbs, th' affrighted stars shall fly,

Like angry meteors, down the troubled sky;
Bright lightnings flash, and awful thunder roll,
And peals on peals reverb'rate to the pole.

Fierce storms shall beat the lofty mountain's side,
Back to its source each rapid river glide;
The sun grow dim, the moon be turn'd to blood,
And all creation, trembling own her God.

Hark! from the skies, the trumpet's piercing sound,

Rends the dark tombs, and cleaves the solid

ground;

An angel voice proclaims, " Ye mortals come,
Attend the judgment, and receive your doom."

Rous'd by his potent voice, the dead obey,
And life re-animates the torpid clay;

The graves yawn wide, the tombs give up their dead,

And ocean heaves them from his deepest bed.

In crowding ranks, the deathless forms arise,
While awful thunders rend the vaulted skies,
And, rob'd in terror, from his bright abode,
The Judge descends, th' eternal Son of God.

High seated on a throne of heavenly hight,
Above the sun's meridian splendor bright;
Millions of Seraphim before him fly,
And angel-bands attend him down the sky.

A starry diadem his head adorns,

That once was circled with a wreath of thorns,
When the blest herald of redeeming grace,
He veil'd in flesh the brightness of his face.
When erst, by bland compassion's influence mov'd,
A pilgrim sranger o'er the earth he rov'd,
A life of pain and suffering he led,
And had not where to lay his sacred head.

Now round that head a sun's bright glories blaze,
In arrowy circles and unnumber'd rays ;
Beneath his feet, careering storms are driv'n;
And in his train are all the host of heav'r.

Rob'd all in white, and palms in every band; 4
While on the left promiscuous crowds appear,
Pale with affright, and chill'd with torturing fear.
Judgment proceeds, the Saviour claims his own,
And graceful rising from his glitt❜ring throne,
"All hail ye blest," he cries," to you are given,
Crowns of bright glory, and a seat in heaven."
Your race is run, the conflict well sustain'd,
The warfare over, and the prize obtain'd;
You who have borne the cross, the crown shal

wear,

You who have shar'd my shame, my glory share.
For you shall streams of joy eternal roll,
And floods of glory burst upon the soul;
For
you angelic choirs their harps employ,
And heaven's high vaults resound with songs ef
joy."

He speaks, and lo! the happy millions raise
Loud hallelujahs, and immortal praise !
Angelic harps the grateful strain prolong,
And heaven's high arches echo with the song!

But, O unhappy race, to wisdom blind,
Enslav'd to sin, to endless woe consign'd!
In vain for grace and mercy now they cry,
The time is past, the guilty soul must die.

In vain, in hopeless agony they call,
"Hide us ye rocks! Ye mountains on us fall !”
Once mercy call'd, but these refus'd to hear,
Now justice frowns, in majesty severe.

Down, down they sink to realms of endless night,
Where anguish wails aloud, and spectres fright!
Where no bright beams of hope or mercy glow,
To gild the shadows of the house of woe!
Oh, if the Judge from his eternal throne,
Shall not condemn the deeds that I have done,
Oh, if I find my humble name impress'd
In the bright archives of my Saviour's breast;

Then shall my heart in grateful transport raise,
Harmonious anthems of extatic praise;
With joy divine, my God and Saviour meet,
And cast my blood-bought triumphs at his feet.
CAROLINE MATILDA

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Revival of Religion in Baltimore,

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RELIGIOUS AND MISSIONARY INTELLIGENCE.

Letter from the Rev. Ebenezer Henderson to

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