Imatges de pÓgina

SATURDAY EVENING. - Olney Hymns, Book 2, Hymn be

Set by the Rev. Dr. Hawker.

Safe-ly thro' a - no other week, God hath brought us on our way.

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Great, condescending husbandman !

Behold the lurking seed; And grant, 0, grant thy saving band,

To crush the deathiul weed! T. E



Gen.jij. 17, 18. Cursed is the ground for thy sake: thorns also and thistles shall it

bring forih tu thee.
AH! go, ve sad remembrancers,

Obedient to the Lord;
And scattor down to future years

The signets of his word.
If whirl'd upon the stormy west,

Or sailing with the breeze,
Or scarce alloat on Eve's calm brcast,

Still speaking his decrees.
Hover round in delity,

Wave slow before his eyes ; Press him to own, fulfill'd in thee,

The message of the skies.
Wing'd by the curse, spread want around!

Preach vengeance as ye fiy !
Then bid the troub!d thought rebound

To peaceful Calvary!
Aloud denounce the righteous woe

On Eden's exiles laid :
But louder yet, where'er ye go,

Proclaim the ransom paid!
Bosom'd in down, lo, curses rave,

On silent pinions borne !
Our least suspected cornforts prove

The parents of a thorn.


JUDG. V. 20, 21. Lord of the starry hosts,

Let them for Britain fight! While angels mighty guard our coasts,

And put our foes to fight. If they invade ourisle,

Lot Nature rise in arms: . In mercy on our navies smile,

And frown on Gallia's swarms. Stretch out thy pow'rful arm,

And wield the sword of war; Britannia shield from threat'ning harm

And spread her commerce far,
Here may religion shine,

And piety increase ;
So shall our thankful hearts be thine,
And praise the God of Pcace.


An affectionate Tribute to the Memorġ When the last hotr of life dsates nights

of Mrs. Bailey, lately the amiable And Merty summons me on high, : Wife of James Bailey, Esq. of I'll think of thee and learn to die, * Bristol.

My mother.

B. H. D.
Turn hither, torn, my streaming eges,
This is the spot ye so much prize ;
Beneath this turf, fespected, lies

HYMN, . . My mother. : Occasioned by à sermon preached When I beheld thee borne away,

.: Aug. 28th, 1803, by the Rev. I marka'd the melancholy day,

G. B----, from Psalm lii. 1. And ev'ry tear appear'd to say, '

My mother!

Wly. boastest tirou thyself in mischief, O ; And when upon thy dying bed

mighty 'mán ? the goodness of the I saw thee gently drop thine head,

Lord endureth continually. 1 kiss'd thy lovely cheeks, tho’ dead,

AMBITION thro' the human breast,
My mother.

Infuses oft its madd’ning fire ;
Sorrow o'erwhelms my weary brain ;

And men, with ease and safety blest, Thou cansi not listen to my sraia ;

To pow'r unlimited aspire. Thy pulse will never beat again,

My mother.

Some, uncontroal'd dominion gain,

. And prostrate slaves exoking view i in vain the moroing shines for me ; O'er vanquish'd hosts despotic reign, A gloom encircles all I see;"

And boast the irischiers which they do. I piae and languish still for thee,

My mother.

Man, following thus his impious will,

His soul to wickedness insures ; My heart, a stranger once to pain,

But God's unbourded goodness still Now can do porbing but complain

The same eternally endures. And sight for thee, and sigh in vain,

My mother.

The countless worlds which roll on high, The Sun emits his golden fire,

• Unite his goodness to declare ; Aud robes the fields in gay attire ;

And all his wond'ious works supply But 'tis thy presence I require,

Fresh proofs of his paternal care.

*My ndother. The mist events which hourly move, 0, could thine eye behold iny fear!

Unfold his bountiful designs ; O, might the winds my wailings bear!

But chietig in redeeming love Perhaps thy spirit sill might hear,

His everlasting goodness shincs !

Kly mother. Here saints enjoy a rich repast And can I thos in vain deplore !

Cr blessings in profusion storld : Is thy ondering form no more?

And here their joyful spirits taste Arithou not on some happier shore,

? he fost'ring goodness of the Lord.

My mother? Shall Christians then mistrust his aid Yrs, chou art there, un fetterd, free,

His providential care forget? Glowing with immortality;

Shall they an earthly tyrant dread, Think of thy child, think of me, i Or tremble at a morial's thrt at:

My mother! No: God's right hand can conquer those Soon as morn lifts his porile eye

Whose mad ambition knows no bounds; Respiendent n the eastern sky,

And England, midst a thousand foes, I'll speak thy name, and look on high,

Is safe, if God her shorcs surrounds.

My mnother. Here let the Christian fix his trust, Arnoon, reclin'd beneath the shade,

Nor frar the Gallic boaster's might; Fancy shall wander where thou’re laid,

Tho' oft his foes have lick'd the dust, And strew her flow'rs around thy head,

And vict'ry crownd the lawless fight.

My mother Tho'foreign lands his conquests feel, Wheneve, in sable garmeots dress'd,

Where mischief mark'd his mad careers Invitas me to my wcuted rest,

TheChristians' pray’rs for England's weal l'il thick how richi; thou art bless-d,

Shall frustrate all his efforts here.
My another. -

Lord, hear our pray'rs! on thee alone. Han Ad when I tread the blooming green,

We fix our hopes in dinger's hour; With aching heart and pensive mieri,

Help us to make thy glories known,
I'll think thou'rt with me, iho' unseen,

And crush the mighty boaster's pow'r I
My mother,


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The Rev. John Clark was the offspring of pious parents, who were members of a Baptist church at Frome, in Somersetshire, under the care of a Mr. Sharp. He was born December 29, 3711, and was put to school to a woman, who taught hiir to read; and as soon as he was able, he was set to work. At about fourteen years of age, he was apprenticed to a cooper at Frome, who soon after removed to Axbridge, where he kept a public-house. Here his situation became so uncomfortable, that he was discharged from his master in the fourth year ; and returned to his father's house. In consequence of the conversation he witnessed between his parents and their friends, together with what they said to hiin about eternal things, bie was sometimes led to think of the state of his soul; yet stiil he proceeded in the ways of sin, though often reproved by his conscience, and frequently promising amendment.

It pleased God, however, about his nineteenth year, to exert the power of bis effectual grace, and to decide the protracted conflict. This will best be expressed in his own words, extracted from a paper which he drew up for the satisfaction of his friends, about two years before his death.

" I was convinced," saith he,“ of my sinful ruined state, and- was filled with distress, bordering on despair ; so that i expected nothing but eternal misery in Hell. I thought the clouds appeared charged with the wrath of God; and feared they would burst on iny head and sink me into endless ruin. In this awful state' I continued about eighteen days; but one day; being alone, lamenting my miserable helpless condition, these words occurred to my mind, “ My grace is sufficient for thec.” The impression was so forcible, that I verily thought some one behind me had spoken thein, and turned round to see who it was; but no one was there. I was greatly surprized;

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