Imatges de pÓgina


with tears,


CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. Yet seüll the same, he wooes this heart of As wiods, and storms, and dashing surges


And makes his love by countless mercies With dreadful fury on the seaskirt shore;

known ! As other times, the gencle zephyrs play,

What can I say, dear Lord, to love so And the unruified strean pursues its way:

strange 'lis thus, methinks, it passes in my soul,

To love that all my rebei acts can change One day the weather's fair, another foul. Language here fails; an angel can't exNow tempest cost with various doubts and

plore ! fears,

Be hush'd then, Muse, and silently adore! My heart'o'erwhelm'd with woe, my eye

Or if some zephys breathe upon thy

strings, Imfending clouds of darkness o'er me Or passing angels touch thee with their spread,

wings, And in the paths of Hell I seem to tread;

Lét thy best notes resound my Saviour's My ways all strew'd with thorns, while praise ! black Despair

And all thy there be his redeeming grace! Would fill the measure of my days with

That shall employ in Heav'n my bettes

pow'rs! Oppress'd, cast down, and alınot robl’d of That shall on earth solace my captive hope,

hours ! To the poor sinner's Friend I then look up;. That shall my charter be to worlds above ! Cast at his feet my burden and my grief,

And then no Heav'n l'll ask but Jesus' And there, and there alone, I find relief.


G. R. He says to each rude passion, “ Peace,

be still;" And straight it yields obedience to his will.

THE DEW-DROP. He orders light where darkness reigned before,

Mark the resplendent orb of day, And bids me disbelieve his love no more.

Early diffuse his orient ray, At his command my hope once more ap.

Eoliv'ning all around ! pears,

The dew, soft trembling, then is seen And flow'rs of Eden deck this vale of On ev'ry beauteous spire of

green tears ;

That decorates the ground, To Zion bound, refreshid, I speed my way, As, if the op’oing scene in vile And travel on by night, as well as day. To hail his mild returoing light, At times I sing, but oft my harp's un

Each drop refulgence gais; strung,

The prison's diverging colours tou, Or set to notes which captive Israel sung On ev'ry humid ball we view, When they the Babylonian streams ex

That clothes the verdant plains. plor'd,

But should the sun his glory shroud And Zion's loss in plaintive strains de.

In some opaque obtruding cloud, plor'd.

Soon is their beauty lost : Yet if niy anchor's cast within the vale,

So Christians, it their Lord remove, Tho' now oppos'd by many a boilt'rous The sudden loss of comfort prove, gale,

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Nor longer beauty boast. My little vessel shall the storm out ride, Warn'd by the dew.drop's transient show, Nor fear a wreck, for Jesus is irs guide, All self-depende.zce I forero, How oft has he been better than my fears, Nor truse my treach'rous heart. And with a promise check'd my flow. Jesus! to thee my soul would fly,

Thou Son of righteousness on high, Met my request, prevented my desire,

Thy quick’ning beams inspart ! And curu'd to songs of praise my mournfullyre!

The smallest drop throughout the field Bat ok, what base returns my heart has

Will somewhat of sweet radiance yield,

Cheer'd by the rising day; made! How oft his love by coldness has been

So I, the meanet of wine own,

Dear Lord! would dwell before thy paid ! How oft I've slighted, turn'd away my

throne, face

And sbing with borrow'd ray. Feen all the invitations of his grase !


ing tears,

for port.

Israel way,

e year 1802.

my fare,


New-cast my plummet, make it apo toning

Where the rocks lurk, and where the Let at tbe water-floods over flow me, neither

quick sands lie : bet be deep swallow ing up Guard thou the gulph with love; my The world's. a sea; my flesh a ship calms.with care ; that's manu'd

Cleanse thou my freight; accept my slem With lab'ring thoughts, and steer'd by

der fare : Reason's hand :

Refresh the sea - sick passenger; cut short My heart's the seaman's chart, whereby His voyage ; safe land him in his wish to

she sails ; My loose affections are the greater sails s Thou, thou whotni winds and stormy seas, The copsail is iny fancy; and the gusts

obey, That fill these waqton sheces are worldly That through the deep gav'st murmuring

lusts. Prayer is the cable, at whose end ap- Say to my soul, be safe; and then my eye pears

Shall scorn grim Death, although grims The anchor Hope, ne'er slipp'd but in Death stand by our fears :

Oh! thou, whose strength reviving arm My will's th' unconftant pilot, that coin. did cherish mands

Thy sinking Peter at the point to perish, The staggʻring keel ; my sins are like Reach forth thy hand, for bid me tread the sands;

the wave ; Repentance is the bucket, and mine eye

I'll come, I'll come: the voice that calls The purnp, unus'd (but in catremes) and

will save. dry.


T. J. N. My conscience is the plummet, that does press

Written after realing the Accounts The deeps, but seldom cries, O fathomless :

published by the Strung erse Friend Smooth calm's security; the gulph's despair;

Society, for the
My freight's corruptions and this life's What scenes of misery and woe!

Alas! What blasts of sortow blow's
My soul's the passenger, confused, driv'n Unheeded by the throng!
From fear to fright; her landing port is The busy, careless, and supine,

Such visits and such scenes decline ;
My seas are stormy, and my ship doth

Nor dwell they on their tongue !

Little ye rich and prosp'rous think My sailors rude's, my steers-man faint How many fellow-creatures sink, and weak :

Through poverty and griet! My canvas fori), it flaps from side to side : O from your treasure kindly spare : My cable's crack'd, my anchor's slightly A trifle let the wretched share,

To bring them kind relief. My pilot's craz'd; my shipwreck sands Their pains and woes, their wretched states

are cloak'd; My bucket's brokeri, and my pump is

O think, it might have been your 'fatè, choak'd ;

Unworıhy what you have : My calm's deceitful, and my gulph's-100 Some gen'rous purpose, (or bis sake

Then let their miseries awake near;

Who came the lost to save! My wares are slubber'd, and my fare's too dear:

Great God, with blessings e'er sufround My plummet's light, it cannot siók nor

Those who in works of love abound, sound:

Who visit scenes of woe: O, shall iny rock-be-threaten'd' soul be

To Death, nor to Disease a prey, drown'd!

O keep and bless them in the way

In which they kindly go. Lord, still the seas, and shield my ship from harm,

Crown their endeavours to reclaim Instruci niy-sailors, guide my steers-man's Poor guilty sinners through thy name,

And bring them back to God. Touch thou my compass, and renew my

W’isdom, and Strength, and Health afford,




While thus they imitate thur Lor!! Send suffer courage, or send milder gales;

This path the Saviour trod. Make strong my eable, bind my anchor O Sin, what mis'ry hast thou brought

On wretched manz noriougue nor thoughs: Direcf my pilot, and be thou his master. Canell or e'er conceive. Objeci che sands to ny more serious view; O awful view but now we may Make sound any bucket, bure iny pump Escape eternal death, - day,

If we on Chritt believe!

sails ;





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MAY, 1803.





Mr. Cowper's relapse occurred in 1773, in his fortya second year. His derangement so completely subverted those doctrinal sentiments which had afforded him, for the last nine years, the most transcendent comfort, that he considered himself as cast off for ever from the hope of mercy, although he never disputed the divine change which had been wrought in bis mind. Through the depths of his distress, Mr. Newton attended him with unfailing tenderness of friendship, and once entertained him fourteen months at the vicarage; but he was deaf to consolation or encouragement, while he supposed the ear of his Creator to be shut against his complaints and requests. He ceased not only from attending public service, but likewise from joining in domestic worship, or attempting private devotion. His

judgment was equally convinced as ever of the glory of Christ, and his desires for communion with God were as fervent; but apprehending his own perdition to be de. termined by an inmutable decree, he regarded it as blasphemy in him to ask for mercy. His pious neighbours were struck with terror, as well as with compassion, at so awful a change. He was inaccessible to all, except Mr. Newton; but all, like him, longed to contribute to his relief. After the first dreadful paroxysm of his disorder, although his unhappy persuasion remained unalterable, he was induced to admit some diversion of his mind from melancholy. Estranged from human society, he was inclined to domesticate a young leveret; and his neighbours instantly supplied him with three. The choice of their food, and the diversity of their dispositions, amused his mind; and their occasional diseases called forth his tenderness. Two of them died; but the third was his companion throughout his abode at Olney, Seren years elapsed before he sufficiently reXI.


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