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While some Epictetus or Sterne esteem,
A gracious Saviour is the gospel theme!

It should be mix'd with many an ardent prayer,
To reach the heart, and fix and fasten there;
When God and man are mutually address'd,
God grants a blessing, man is truly bless'd.

It should be closely, well applied at last,
To make the moral nail securely fast:
Thou art the man, and thou, alone, will make
A Felix tremble, and a David quake!

Passages for the Memory.


Bread of the world, in mercy broken!
Wine of the soul, in mercy shed!
By whom the words of life were spoken,
And in whose death our sins are dead!

Look on the heart by sorrow broken,
Look on the tears by sinners shed;

And be thy feast to us the token,
That by thy grace our souls are fed.



Forgive thy foes ;--nor that alone;
Their evil deeds with good repay;
Fill those with joy who leave thee none,
And kiss the hand upraised to slay.

So does the fragrant sandal bow
In meek forgiveness to its doom;
And o'er the axe at every blow,
Sheds in abundance rich perfume!



Know'st thou the value of a soul immortal?
Behold this midnight glory: worlds on worlds!
Amazing pomp! Redouble this amaze!

Ten thousand add; add twice ten thousand more;
Then weigh the whole :-one soul outweighs them all;
And calls the astonishing magnificence

Of unintelligent creation poor!


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"Who shall avenge the slave?" I stood and cried. "The earth, the earth!" the echoing sea replied. I turn'd me to the ocean, but each wave Declined to be the avenger of the slave. "Who shall avenge the slave?" my species cry-"The winds, the floods, the lightning of the sky. I turn'd to these,-from them one echo ran"The right avenger of the slave is man Man was my fellow; in his sight I stood, Wept, and besought him by the voice of blood Sternly he look'd, as proud on earth he trod, Then said, "The avenger of the slave is God!" I look'd in prayer towards heaven-awhile 'twas still, And then methought God's voice replied-"I will." HOLLAND.


There is no God, the fool in secret said— There is no God that rules on earth or sky: Tear off the band that folds the wretch's head, That God may burst upon his faithless eye.

Is there no God?--the stars in myriads spread,
If he look up, the blasphemy deny,

Whilst his own features, in the mirror read,
Reflect the image of Divinity.

Is there no God?-the stream that silver flows,
The air he breathes, the ground he treads, the trees,
The flowers, the grass, the sands, each wind that blows,
All speak of God: throughout ONE VOICE agrees,
And eloquent His dread existence shows:

Blind to thyself, ah! see Him, fool, in these.



This book, this holy book, on every line
Mark'd with the seal of high divinity,
On every leaf bedew'd with drops of love
Divine, and with the eternal heraldry
And signature of God Almighty stamp'd
From first to last, this ray of sacred light,
This lamp, from off the everlasting throne,
Mercy brought down, and in the night of Time
Stands, casting on the dark her gracious bow,
And evermore beseeching men, with tears
And earnest sighs, to read, believe, and live.



Wilt thou fly

With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles,
And range with him th' Hesperian field, and see,
Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove,
The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step
Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters glow
With purple ripeness, aud invest each hill,
As with the blushes of an evening sky?



In the vast and the minute, we see
The unambiguous footsteps of the God
Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.


Father! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee!
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we.

The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death :
In Christ I live! in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life! Let then earth, sea, and sky
Make war against me! on my front I show
Their mighty Master's seal. In vain they try
To end my life, that can but end its woe.
Is that a death-bed where the Christian lies?
Yes! but not his--'tis death itself there dies.



THESE, as they change, Almighty Father! these
Are but the varied God! The rolling year
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart, is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the summer-months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year:
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks;
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined,
And spreads a common feast for all their lives.
In Winter awful Thou! with clouds and storms
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd,
Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing,
Riding sublime, Thou bidd'st the world adore,
And humblest Nature with thy northern blast.
Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combined;
Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade;
And all so forming an harmonious whole;
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee; marks not the mighty Hand
That, ever-busy, wheels the silent spheres ;
Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring:
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day;
Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest forth:
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature attend! join every living soul,
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join; and, ardent, raise

One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes;


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Oh, talk of Him in solitary glooms,

Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely-waving pine
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe!
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven
Th' impetuous song, and say from whom you rage.
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills
And let me catch it as I muse along.

Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,


Sound His stupendous praise; whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.

Soft-roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him; whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests, bend, ye harvests, wave, to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Great source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,

From world to world, the vital ocean round!
On Nature write with every beam His praise.
The thunder rolls; be hush'd the prostrate world ;
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks,
Retain the sound: the broad responsive low,
Ye valleys, raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake; a boundless song
Burst from the groves! and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm
The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! In swarming cities vast,
Assembled men, to the deep organ join

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