MARY! list how yonder blast
Loudly roars, and, wildly swelling,
Frequent in its gusts, and fast
Raves around our lowly dwelling!
Yet, secur'd from its intrusion,
Smiles our hearth and cheerful flame;
Far or near the dread confusion,
Sit we here, and chat the same!
O! 'tis mercy from above
Checks our every rising fear;
Guards the little home we love,-
Gives the peaceful blessing here!
All this tumult round our planet,
Moves, some purpose to fulfil ;
Hath no self-control, nor can it,
But effects its Maker's will!

Times, like this, of great distress,
Somewhat of God's power declare;
May it much our minds impress,
While we kneel at evening prayer!
Hark, my love! the tempest rises;
Down in torrents drives the rain:
O! how many this surprises,
Toss'd upon the whelming main!
Ah! methinks, the winds, wild-raging,
Burthen'd come, with many a sigh;
And, each hollow moan presaging,
Tells of many doom'd to die!

Down thy cheek the tear is stealing,
Piteous of the seaman's pain;
Tears are prayers, which Christian feel-
ing

Never sends to Heaven in vain.
Now, if Christ be felt, thy treasure,
Mariner, thou need'st not fear:
Winds and waves fulfil his pleasure;
He prescribes the storm's career!
Happy soul! if grace hath found thee,
Faith shall over fear prevail!
Thou may'st smile, tho' death surround
thee,

There's a "needs be" for the gale! Love still rules, though tempests hide it, (God is merciful as just!)

Trembling worldlings may deride it;
Christians will adore and trust.

God hath given, with hand unsparing;
Man hath reap'd th' autumnal grain;
Comes the blast, new bounty bearing,
Comes the soil-reviving rain!
Torrents! blasts! exhaust your raging,
Not a murmur shall you raise!
Faith, your awful force assuaging,
Faith shall terror turn to praise!

E. A. [English Baptist Magaz.]

BACKSLIDER.

Frowning makes the anguish double,
Nor can ought the pain beguile.
Satan, ere the foul transaction,
Cloth'd the sin in beauteous dress;
But amidst the soul's distraction,
He upbraiding adds distress.
If within our eyes be turning,

There's a heart as hard as stone;
Once with love to Jesus burning,
Now completely callous grown.
Fears of hell the soul tormenting,
Who this agony can bear?
Doubts of e'er aright repenting,

What can follow but despair? Pious youth, the Saviour loving,

Shun the first approach of sin; If you dread the Lord's removing, Keep your garments white and clean Though you now enjoy the morning,

Sin may soon becloud your day; Take, O take, this dear bought warning. And for him who warns you pray. DESERTOR MISER.

Mr. SAMUEL MEDLEY was born at Cheshunt, Herts, on the 23d. of June, A. D. 1738, and educated under his grandfather, Mr. William Tonge, at Enfield, a man of considerable learning and respectability in the religious world.

He early distinguished himself by a lively capacity, and a strong and retentive memory. His learning, so far from being a drudgery, was always his pleasure and amusement; a disposition which followed him far into life.

About the age of fourteen he was put apprentice to an oilman in Newgate-Street, in which situation he inet with many peculiar difficulties, arising partly from the temper of those with whom he had to do, and partly from his active turn of mind. Finding himself entirely cramped in a sphere ill suited to the vivacity of his character, and the extent of his ideas, he resolved to get rid as soon as possible of his irksome confinement. His wishes were much sooner realized than he expected, Vol. I.

50

by the breaking out of the war in 1755; when he entered as midshipman on board the Buckingham, a seventy-four gun ship, in which new situation he immediately strove to recommend himself, by an unremitted assiduity, to the duties of his station. Determined to excel, he never would admit a rival, by which means be soon gained the notice and esteem of his captain and officers. While in the navy,he had an opportunity of seeing much of mankind, nor did he fail to make such observations as were afterwards profitable to him through life; though at this time, it appears, he was in the zenith of his profaneness. How of ten, looking back to this period with contrition and gratitude, has he mentioned the awful lengths he was permitted to run, and how much he was under the power and dominion of his corruptions, being at the greatest possible distance from God, and utterly averse from every serious reflection that might occasionally intrude upon his mind!

Possessing a considerable share of classical learning, great wit, a fine constitution, and an unbounded flow of spirits, he was at once the life of the giddy circle in which he daily associated, and universally prized as a companion in mirth. This lively and volatile turn of mind, he has many times said, was at this time his greatest snare, and led him into more evil than any other temptation. Thus flattered and caressed by his light and prof ligate companions, he gave full scope to his reigning propensities; acknowledging that he had neither the fear of God, nor man, before his eyes.

But, though lost to every serious impression, he was not totally without some flashes of conviction, which, in spite of all his mirth, would sometimes cast a momentary damp upon his pleasure. As an instance of this, he one day, in the height of his profaneness, casting his eyes on a favourite dog belong ing to the captain, that lay by his side, suddenly wished he was that dog, that he might have no soul to

be lost.

During his service he was engaged in several actions, but the most considerable, and the last, was the battle fought off Cape Lagos, on the memorable 18th. of August, 1759, under admiral Boscawen, against the French fleet commanded by M. de la Clue, Chef d'Escadre. This was a hard fought and obstinate engagement, and the slaughter of the enemy, owing to their custom at that time of crowding their ships with men, was particularly affecting. On board of many of the French ships they stove in their barrels of flour, to absorb the blood that flowed on their decks, in order to prevent the sailors from slipping. The station which Mr. Medley occupied during this action was on the poop, where he had a table and chair to take the minutes. From this elevated situation he had not only an opportunity of observing every cir

cumstance that happened on board the Intrepid, but could perceive the enemy drop as they were killed or wounded, the action was so close. Thus surrounded by death, and in imminent danger, he has often said he was so callous, that he had neither fear nor care. The first thing that startled him was observing a shot shiver the mizenmast, while the captain, first lieutenant, and master, were conversing together, the former leaning with his arm against the mast. None of them however were materially hurt.

Not long after this the master, turning himself round, cried out, Mr. Medley, you are wounded. On his looking down and seeing a quantity of blood, and the muscles of his leg torn, his spirits felt a damp for the first time. Being a wound of such a nature as required immediate assistance, owing to the loss of blood, great part of the calf of the leg being shot away, he rose from his seat and walked down to the surgeon.

Mr. Medley was now entirely incapacitated from attending the duties of his station, and ordered to keep his bed; which to one of his active disposition proved a very severe trial. His wound, instead of healing by the means used, daily grew worse, which, together with his close confinement, tended much to lower his spirits. The surgeon at length was under the necessity of informing him, that there was every appearance of gangrene, and that he feared the only means left of saving his life was amputation, which must be finally determined by the state of the wound the next morning. This was stunning news, which at once overwhelmed his spirits; disconsolate and alone, he now began to think soberly. Revolving in his mind the education, the advice, and the example he had had; the kind admonitions of his pious father and grandfather, their counsels and prayers began to find a place in his memory. He recol lected also with what importunate

anxiety they had constantly inculcated upon him the duty of personal prayer, as well by example as precept.

Considering his case as desperate, it occurred to his mind, that prayer to God must be his last resource. This reflection was somewhat encouraged by what he had often heard his parents say, respecting GOD's hearing those that called on him; conceiving there was no other course left for him, all human help now failing, he resolved to betake himself to this experiment. At this juncture it struck him, that he had once seen a Bible in his chest, by whom deposited, or when, he knew not; but he supposed it was by his father, or some of his relations. For this long neglected book, which he, like many others, had never opened while in health and strength, he now in trouble began to find a use. Immediately calling his servant, he gave him the key of his chest, and told him to bring a Bible he would find there: he opened this sacred book in the devotional Psalms, and read for a considerable time, but never could recollect which of the Psalms it was he read on this occasion.

The great agitation of his mind preventing his rest, he spent the principal part of the night in wakeful anxiety, praying to God in his way very fervently for the restoration of his limb, and the preservation of his life; these were indeed his only objects, for at this time he had not been taught the far greater danger he was in of losing his soul. As the morning approached he trembled for the consequence. On the wound being opened, the surgeon, lifting up his hands and eyes, exclaimed, the change was little less than a miracle. Pleased and surprised at this unexpected event, he did not fail to set it down as an answer to his importunate, and as he thought prevailing petitions; verily believing, that God had

This was one of the Society's Bibles.

heard him on account of his prayers. At least he could not help thinking, that there was something more in what his friends had told him about religion, than he had been in the habit of conceiving. From this time he began gradually to recover; but as his health and strength returned, his serious im pressions in proportion wore away

The fleet being ordered home and being still confined to his cabin, on his arrival in England he was permitted to leave the service, till he was perfectly restored; and to return, or not, at his own option. But he still entertained the Lighest sentiments respecting his favourite profession; and, flushed with the thoughts of so signal a victory, in the honours of which he was now sharing, he resolved he would never quit the service, till he was made an admiral.

On his arrival in London, he was carried to the house of Mr. Tonge, his grandfather, where he continued for many months to keep his room.

Mr. Tonge was now retired from public life, having left Enfield, and was at this time a deacon of the Baptist church, under the pastoral charge of the late Dr. Gifford. Mr. Medley, thus surrounded by his pious relatives and friends, was forced, much against his inclination, to hear many a faithful admonition, and many a solemn warning. His grandfather's manners, being rather rigid and strict, made him, to one of Mr. Medley's temper, but a disagreeable companion, which was an additional reason for his earnestly desiring his liberation, by returning again to the duties of his station.

His wound being nearly healed, and his wonted vivacity begin ing to return, he was pondering in his mind the most eligible mode of securing his preferment. At this critical juncture, while he was lay ing his plans for this world, it pleased God to engage his heart for his own service, by effectually calling him from darkness to light and

from the power of Satan to Gon. It has been hinted above, that his mind had relapsed into its former state of levity on one hand, and inveterate dislike of religion and the things of God on the other, which appeared more particularly in his rooted dislike both of the company and communication of any serious person.

It had been the custom of Mr. Tonge, frequently to read some religious tract to him in his chamber, particularly on the Lord's day. Mr. Medley being anxious to know one Sabbath evening, whether his grandfather were going out to worship, inquired of the servant, who told him, that Mr. Tonge was looking for a sermon, and was coming to read it to him. Upon which he exclaimed, "Read a sermon to me, he had better be any where else:" heartily wishing the old gentleman had some more profitable employment, than spending his own time, and wearying his patience, with such uninteresting stuff. However disagreeable these intrusive services were, he had still sufficient pru. dence, to preserve a respectful outward deportment.

The piece chosen on this occasion, was a manuscript sermon of Dr. Watts, which was read to him alone. The words of the text were in the forty-second of Isaiah, and the sixth and seventh verses. "I, the Lord, have called thee in rightcousness, and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles: To open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison-house." He heard at first with his usual indifference. His attention was gradually raised, as the subject was opened; but when those parts of the text, about opening the blind eyes, and bringing those that sit in darkness out of the prison-house, began to be explained, he heard, he more than heard, for every sentence described his own case and every word sunk deep into

his heart. At once convinced of his awful state as a sinner before God, and the imminent danger he was in as such, with a heart broken under a sense of his guilt and impenitence, and the astonishing forbearance of God towards him, as soon as he was alone he fell down before the Lord, and spread before him his mournful, dangerous case.

He now began to go out, and as often as he was able heard Mr. Whitfield, and Dr. Gifford, accompanied by his grandfather. It appears from a few lines written in a manuscript book, dated July 5, 1760, that he soon received the comforts of the gospel, by a believing view of the fulness and sufficiency of the atonement of the Lord Jesus, a sense of which followed him through all his labours to his dying day.

The change was visible and striking, and soon began to operate by altering his views of the navy, where he had so fondly built his hopes of future greatness. He had been promised a lieutenant's commission immediately on the expiration of his time, of which there were but a few months to fulfil. This, flattering as it had been, was now voluntarily relinquished. His natural disposition receiving a new bias, he commenced a lively, zealgus, and warm hearted Christian. His excellent father had just survi ved long enough, to see his earnest petitions answered in the conversion of his now only child, as he died about four months after this pleasing event. In the month of December, 1760, Mr. Medley made a public profession, by joining the church in Eagle-Street, under the pastoral care of Dr. Gifford. Thus he, who was before a blasphemer and injurious, obtained mercy, which almighty and sovereign grace he did not fail to recommend by his conversation and example.

During his long confinement, he had employed many of his solitary hours in refreshing his memory by a study of the classicks, a complete