fpeaks, and it is done: He commands, and it ftands faft: He fays, I will, be thou clean," and immediately the leprofy of Sin departs: "I am thy Salvation,"-and we are faved to the uttermoft, "Behold! I make all things new," and lo! a new Creation of pure light, life, love, peace, joy, harmony and heaven, arifes in the foul. And Oh! what matter of thankfulness and praife, that this Salvation is the privilege of every child of God: "That he gave himself for us, to redeem us from all iniquity and purify us unto himself a peculiar people; " and that he is conti nually faying unto us all, Be ye holy, for I am holy. Happy, thrice happy are the people who are in fuch a cafe. "Who is like unto them, a people faved of the Lord?" Glory be to God, this Salvation is to my foul more defirable than gold, and sweeter far than the honey-comb. The image of the bleffed Jefus appears infinitely amiable. Its divine beauty captivates my heart, I hardly know what part of his fair character, which feature in his heavenly countenance, to admire moft: His deep Humility, which made him not only to take upon him the form of a Servant, but content to be a Worm and no man; his perfect refignation, which made the Will of his heavenly Father fo welcome and delightful to him, even in his bittereft agony; his lamb-like patience, which all the contradiction, fury, and barbarous cruelty of his bittereft enemies could extort nothing feverer from, than "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do;" or his infinitely tender love and compaffion for his poor, wretched, perifhing creatures, which moved him, after he had laboured early and late, in public and in private, for their good;-after he had poured out cries and prayers, for whole nights together, in their behalf, to go, and pour out all his blood, and lay down his precious life on the crofs, to redeem and fave them. Well might St. Paul fay, "Put ye on the Lord Jefus Chrift." Oh! my bleeding, loving Lord, help me to put thee on! Let me be filled and clothed with thee. Be thou my All in All; for then, and only then, fhall I be a perfect Chriftian, throughly furnished unto all good works. T. R.

CHARITY and PHILOSOPHY UNITED

A

H! what are honour, virtue, fame,
Sincerity and truth;

But cunning fictions of difguife,
Which knaves and hypocrites devise,
To cheat unknowing Youth.

And what is friendship, but a name
Which mocks our fond defires,
The vain deception of a day,
To lead unguarded hearts aftray;
It wounds and then expires i

Tem

TH

Ten years thrice told, in vain I've fought,
These phantoms of the brain,
And oft as they appear'd in view,
Like morning clouds, or early dew,
They vanish'd foon again.

'Twas thus in melancholy gloom,
A philofophic fage,

Complain'd of Man, and figh'd, and mourn'd,
Till reason fail'd and paffion burn'd,

With heart confuming rage.

Come, vice, he faid, poffefs my heart,
I woo thee to these arms,
Let envy, fpleen, and malice be,
The Glories of the mind to me;
Farewell, falfe virtue's charms.

When lo! an heav'nly nymph appear'd,
A native of the sky;

Ten thousand graces round her play'd,
And yet she feem'd an artless maid,
And heaven was in her eye.

He gaz'd, he trembled;-fond furprise
Poffefs'd his throbbing heart;

Oh! would't thou come with me, he faid,
Divine, angelic, heavenly maid,
And we shall never part!

My name is CHARITY, faid the;
Then fmil'd the foft confent;

Her charms bade all his fortows ceafe,
His heart was fill'd with balmy peace,
And joy, and fweet content.

JAMES LYONS,

VERSES WRITTEN BY A YOUNG LADY. :

HOU Power fupreme! by whofe command I live,
The grateful tribute of my praise receive:
To thy indulgence I my Being owe,

And all thofe joys which from that Being flow.
Author of Life, in vain my tongue affays,
For this immortal gift, to fpeak thy praise;
How fhall my heart it's grateful fenfe reveal,
Where all the energy of words must fail ?
Oh, may its influence in my life appear,
And every action prove my Thanks fincere!

Teach

Teach me betimes to tread thy facred ways,
And to thy fervice confecrate my days;
While on thro' life's perplexing maze I ftray,
Guide thou my feet into the narrow way;
Conduct the fteps of my unguarded youth,
And point their motions to the paths of Truth.
Protect me by thy providential care,

And warn my foul to fhun the Tempter's snare ;
Thro' all the fhifting fcenes of varied life,
In calms of eafe, or ruffling storms of strife;
Thro' each event of this inconstant state,
Preferve my temper equal and fedate.

Give me a mind that nobly can despise
The low designs and little arts of vice;
Be my Religion fuch as taught by thee,
Alike from pride and fuperftition free.
Inform my judgment, regulate my will,
My reafon ftrengthen, and my passions still.
To gain thy favour be my first great end,
And to that point may every action tend.
Amidst the pleafures of a profperous ftate,
Whofe flattering charms the natural heart clate,---
May I reflect to whom thefe gifts I owe,

And blefs the bounteous Hand from whence they flow
Or, if an adverse fortune be my share,

Let not its terrors tempt me to despair;
But fixt on thee, a fteady faith maintain,

And own all good... which thy decrees ordain.
On thine unfailing Providence depend,
The best protector and the fureft friend:
Thus on life's ftage may I my part fuftain,
And, at my exit, thy applaufes gain !

WRITTEN

Under an HOUR GLASS, in a Grotto, near a ftream of Water.

THIS

HIS babbling ftream not uninftructive flows;---
Nor idly loiters to its destin'd main;

Each flower it feeds that on its margin grows,
And bids thee blufh whofe days are spent in vain.
Nor void of moral, though unheeded, glides
Time's current, flealing on with filent hafte,
For lo! each falling fand, his folly chides,
Who lets one precious moment run to waste.

ARMINIAN MAGAZINE.

Ridley foulp

M JOHN HICKLING,

Aged 26.

Preacher of the Gospel.