of doing good is more encouraging than has been the case at any former period. We are requested to acknowledge with gratitude the donations already received from several of the preachers, and a few of the circuits; and to state that donations and subscriptions will continue to be received by the Rev. R. Gower, New Road; and Mr. John Pike, George Lane, Oxford; also by Mr. Higgs, 179, Borough; POETRY. THE SHIPWRECKED MARINERS. A freighted bark was white with many a sail That fill'd its bosom with a homeward gale; But ere on mid-sea wafted, stormy clouds Burst on the mast, fierce winds assail'd the shrouds; Tremendous billows whirl'd it to their height, Then sunk it deep ingulph'd, with stygian might: Lost was all government-dark was the sky A long and awful shriek!-The vessel reel'd! Of lengthen'd bitterness, enwrapp'd from sight Each face of woe; and oft a sudden cry The long departed sun the horizon gain'd, When calls and whistles clear'd the mournful truth, A veteran seaman, and a simple youth Were all that lived. With posture long unchang'd, Their wishful eyes the wat'ry distance rang'd, For some approaching bark, or friendly shore. Where pitying aid their sufferings might implore; Bot all was desolate; a dismal waste Where living floods, and clouds alone were trac'd, Fatigu'd with tension, and benumb'd with cold, One bounding effort made, he strid the mast. near, He rais'd the pallid youth, and bad him cheer. Might from his sightless eye remove the shade. A mute and boding answer from the view. As day advanc'd the stretching prospect clear'd, And far before a black'ning mass appear'd"'Tis land-'tis land-" exclaim'd th'euraptur'd boy, And nearly perish'd in his freak of joy. The helinless bark seem'd now with ease to glide; Hope lent its shining sails, and stood its guide. Apall'd the eye. The sudden shock to save But hunger soon the wand'ring search impell'd; They climb'd: and ridges vast in prospect swell'd: The day was worn, fatigue their frame oppress'd, Yet being none they saw, nor place of rest; Nor grass, nor shrub adorn'd the rougli ascent; In crags the summit parted, widely rent In silent gloom, despair's keen pang they proved: With death's most dreaded form condemned to cope, It seemed a dream fanatical to hope. Night spread her veil; a bleak and howling blast, With doleful murmur, through each crevice passed; And waves beneath, that broke with equal swell, Moaned out faint sympathies, and seemed their knell. New in distress, the youth profusely wept, And held the boatswain, till worn out, he slept. The Queen of silence, clad in robes of light, With whispered consolation calmed the night; Her crescent chariot seemed to speed her way To shed her benediction on the day. The Veteran's eye had marked her earliest beam "A ray of peace," he thought, "where thousands dream "In slumbering ease!-a harbinger of death, "Where hunger preys upon the dying breath!" A plashing sound disturbed his thoughtful mood And banished hope surprised the solitude! He sprang, some friendly oar to meet, with Joy; But soon returned to save the unconscious boy: A shark upon the rock his fin had spread, Raised his long jaws, and turned to grasp his head. A mother's care had once this child inclin'd With Scripture facts to enrich his opening mind; But dire example, and the snares of youth, Had lulled to fatal rest each warning truth: Now death assailed, that mind, so wisely stored, Sought refuge in the hope those truths afford"And, are there not," he said, "by heaven conveyed, "Assurances of providential aid, "To those who ask it from the depth of woe? "Kneel down-that aid kind heaven may now bestow." True worshippers, they found a holy Fane Whence the pure incense ne'er ascends in vain. They rose expectant,-waiting for replyWhen, suddenly, a cloud obscur'd the sky ;Loud cackling struck the ear, and falling round, Faint birds of passage struggled on the ground: Dispos'd in ample heaps, they soon were made Altars of praise, like *stones near Jordan laid. Hunger no qualms allows:-one bird, at first, Ere the blood cool'd, allayed their burning thirst: Then to the water's edge they turn'd their eye, Sought the tough weed, and scattered it to dry. Large stores of plumes they stripped and hid with care, A nightly covert from the chilling air. The weeds were dry; a knife and flint combin'd To raise a flame; and ere mid-day they din'd. Oft on the fronting rock their linen stream'dThe weedy fire, by night, a beacon gleam'd. * With prayer each day was clos'd; each morning brought The grateful offering, and the pious thought. Four suns had set, yet hope would still pre Recording monuments to place on shore, Whose every plume they thought inscribed above, With faithful promise and unchanging love! The boat rowed off, the vessel stretch'd her sail, The boatswain kneel'd, while morning beam'd And flew to Albion on a prosperous gale. around, And from his eyes large tears bedew'd the ground: A tongue, unused to prayer, besought the skies, With broken accents and untutored cries: But ardent was the address, with trust sincere, Prayer such as gracious heaven delights to hear! Joshua iv. 3. D. B. The younger of the mariners related the writer, producing one of the wild-ducks which principal circumstances of the narrative to the fell upon the rock, dried in its asb-coloured feathers. He was living at the time in respectability exemplary life had long evinced the sincerity of as a tradesman, in the West of England, and his the resolutions made in his distress. Printed at the Conferenec-Office, 14, City-Road, London ; T. CORDEUX, Agent. THE METHODIST MAGAZINE, FOR MAY, 1818. BIOGRAPHY. MEMOIR OF MR. JOHN BARBER. His second year in Bristol was not less laborious than the first. At the Conference in 1815, he was, for the second time, chosen President; the indispensable duties of which office, in addition to those of the Superintendent of a circuit and a large society, require exertions, to which few physical constitutions, however firm, at Mr. Barber's age, are equal. For some time prior to the Conference, the writer having observed, with much and painful concern, the serious inroads which had been made upon his health, and apprehensive of a dropsical affection, as the consequence, repeatedly undertook to warn him of his danger; and on one occasion said, "Sir, if you are not more careful, you will certainly leave your bones amongst us." But this, as well as every other attempt on the part of his colleagues, and friends in general, proved futile. Even Mrs. Barber's entreaties were unavailing to her expression of sympathy and apprehension, after a Sabbath of more than usual labour, he replied, "Ah! my dear, in the pulpit I forget all my sufferings.' The following may probably afford additional proof how much he had his work at heart. A short time previous to his death, it having been observed to him that, in the event of some family arrangements taking place, he might be induced to settle in a certain circuit in which he had formerly laboured, and there spend the remnant of his days; he replied, with his accustomed earnestness, "Say nothing to me about settling; I hope God will grant me the privilege mentioned in the hymn, that I may, "My body with my charge lay down, And cease at once to work and live.'" In this he obtained the wish of his heart; terminating, at once, his labours and his life. Notwithstanding the natural strength of Mr. Barber's constitution, it had received a shock which was never recovered. During the latter part of his residence in Bristol, he was repeatedly attacked by severe indisposition; and, for some time previous to VOL. XLI. MAY, 1818. * 2 S * |