I would rather in exile remain,

Than lead the rash life I despise :

Licentiousness ends but in pain—

The contempt of the good and the wise.

ODE ON THE LOSS OF TIME.

See that ye walk circumspectly; not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time because the days are evil.

Ephes. ch. v. ver. 15.

WHEN I think of the days that are past,

Of the months-of the years-that are flown; When I know not how long they may last,

Or how soon this short life may be gone:

When into my Bible I look,

And see what my life should have been ;

My practice compare with my book,

And view such an opposite scene :

When I read of the regions of bliss

For those that have walk'd in its way;

Or look on the frightful abyss

For sinners that wander and stray:

Whilst I stand on eternity's brink

And reflect what my being has cost;

From the past and the future I shrink,

And weep for the time that is lost!

O Jesus! my Lord and my friend,

Who diedst for my

soul on the cross,

Once more let thy mercy descend

Thy merits recover my loss.

Record not the years so misspent ;--
To kindle thine anger forbear,

Lest I perish before I repent,

And perish alas! in despair.

O grant me thy grace to begin

A life from ingratitude free

A life of abhorrence of sin

A life of affiance in thee.

A HYMN ON THE JUDGMENT-DAY.

From the twenty-fifth Chapter of St. Matthew.

When thou, Great Judge! with glory crown'd

Shalt bid the last loud trumpet sound;

When from their graves the dead shall rise

And trembling millions seek the skies;

Thrice happy they! whose anxious fear,
The dawn of endless bliss shall cheer;

To whom thy gracious love shall say—
"To Heav'n, ye blessed, haste away.

"When hunger drove me to your door; "Or thirsty I besought your store;

"Your hands the kind repast bestow'd,

"And led me where sweet waters flow'd:

"When want compell'd my feet to roam

"A stranger reft of house and home

"Your care my naked state improv'd,

"And all my poverty remov'd:

"When on the bed of sickness laid,

"Or pining in the dungeon shade ;

"Your visits taught me there to pray,

"And wip'd my bitter tears away."

Lord, at that dread tribunal spare!

Let all behold a Saviour there!

There let thy tender mercies shine

And clothe us with a robe divine.

Printed by Manning and Smithson, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row.