CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. As winds, and storms, and dashing surges roar With dreadful fury on the sea skirt shore; At other times, the gentle zephyrs play, And the unruffled stream pursues its way: 'Tis thus, methinks, it passes in my soul, One day the weather's fair, another foul. Now tempest tost with various doubts and fears, My heart o'erwhelm'd with wos, my eye with tears, Impending clouds of darkness o'er me spread, And in the paths of Hell I seem to tread; My ways all strew'd with thorns, while black Despair Would fill the measure of my days with . And flow'rs of Eden deck this vale of Yet still the same, he wooes this heart of stone, And makes his love by countless mercies known! What can I say, dear Lord, to love so strange? To love that all my rebel acts can change? Language here fails; an angel can't explore ! Be hush'd then, Muse, and silently adore! Or if some zephyr breathe upon thy strings, Or passing angels touch thee with their wings, Let thy best notes resound my Saviour's praise! And all thy themne be his redeeming grace! That shall employ in Heav'n my better pow'rs! That shall on earth solace my captive hours! And then no Heav'n I'll ask but Jesus' That shall my charter be.to worlds above! love! THE DEW-DROP. MARK the resplendent orb of day, Early diffuse his orient ray, G. R. Eoliv'ning all around! That clothes the verdant plains. Nor trust my treach'rous heart. Jesus! to thee my soul would fly, Thou Son of righteousness on high, Thy quick'ning beams impart ! The smallest drop throughout the field Will somewhat of sweet radiance yield, Cheer'd by the rising day; So I, the meanest of thine own, Dear Lord! would dwell before thy throne, And shine with borrow'd ray. ANNETTS. PSALM LXIV. 15. . Let not the water-floods overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up. THE world's a sea; my flesh a ship With lab'ring thoughts, and steer'd' by My heart's the seaman's chart, whereby My loose affections are the greater sails Prayer is the cable, at whose end ap- The anchor Hope, ne'er slipp'd but in our fears: My will's th' unconftant pilot, that com mands The stagg'ring keel; my sins are like the sands; Repentance is the bucket, and mine eye The pump, unus'd (but in extremes) and dry. My conscience is the plummet, that does press The deeps, but seldom cries, O fathom less : Smooth calm's security; the gulph's despair; My soul's the passenger, confused, driv'n My seas are stormy, and my ship doth leak ;. My sailors rude'; my steers-man faint and weak: My canvas toro, it flaps from side to side: My cable's crack'd, my anchor's slightly ty'd; My pilot's craz'd; my shipwreck sands are cloak'd; My bucket's broken, and my pump is chbak'd ; My calm's deceitful, and my gulph's too near; My wares are slubber'd, and my fare's too dear: My plummet's light, it cannot sink nor sound: New-cast my plummet, make it apt to the Where the rocks hurk, and where the quicksands lie: Guard thou the gulph with love; my calms.with care; Cleanse thou my freight; accept my slen-> der fare : Refresh the sea-siek passenger; cut short Thou, thou whom winds and stormy seas. Oh! thou, whose strength reviving arm Thy sinking Peter at the point to perish, the wave; I'll come, I'll come: the voice that calls T. J. N. Written after reading the Accounts What scenes of misery and woe! The busy, careless, and supine, Little Through poverty and grief! Their pains and woes, their wretched state, Some gen'rous purpose, for his sake Who came the lost to save! O Sin, what mis'ry hast thou brought Escape eternal death,-n day, If we on Chrift believe! S EVANGELICAL MAGAZINE. MAY, 1803. MEMOIR OF WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. CONCLUDED FROM OUR LAST.. MR. COWPER'S relapse occurred in 1773, in his fortysecond 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 his 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 determined by an immutable 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 neigh bours 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. Seven years elapsed before he sufficiently reA a XI. |