none should ever come to be a member of it, or a sharer in its blessings, but by the same faith that he had, fixed on the Seed that was in the promise, to be brought forth from him in the world. On the account of this privilege, he became the father of all them that believe; for they that are of faith, the same are the children of Abraham, Gal. iii. 7. Rom. iv. 11. and thus he became heir of the world, ver. 13. in that all that should believe throughout the world, being thereby implanted into the covenant made with him, should become his spiritual children.

"Answerable to this two-fold end of the separation of Abraham, there was a double seed allotted to him: a seed according to the flesh, separated to bring forth the Messiah according to the flesh; and a seed according to the promise, that is, such as by faith should have interest in the promise, or, all the elect of God. Multitudes afterwards were of the carnal seed of Abraham, and of the number of the people separated to bring forth the Messiah in the flesh; and yet not of the seed according to the promise, nor interested in the spiritual blessings of the covenant, because they did not personally believe, as the apostle declares, Heb. iv. And many afterwards, who were not of the carnal seed of Abraham, nor interested in the privilege of bringing forth the Messiah in the flesh, were yet destined to be made his spiritual seed by faith, that in them he might become heir of the world, and all nations of the earth be blessed in him.

"Now, it is evident that it is the second privilege, and spiritual seed, wherein the church, to whom the promises were made, is founded, and whereof it doth consist, namely, in them who by faith are interested in the covenant of Abraham, whether they be of the natural seed or no. And herein lay the great mistake of the Jews of old, wherein they are followed by their posterity unto this day. They thought no more was needful to interest them in the covenant of Abraham, but that they be his seed according to the flesh; and they constantly pleaded the latter privilege, as the ground and reason of the former.

"It is true, they were the children of Abraham according to the flesh; but, on that account, they can have no

other privilege than Abraham hâd in the flesh himself: and this was, as we have shewed, that he should be set apart as a special channel, through whose loins God would derive the promised seed into the world. The former carnal privileges of Abraham and his posterity, expired on the grounds before mentioned; having answered their end, the ordinances of worship, which were suited thereunto, did necessarily cease also; and this cast the Jews into great perplexities, and proved the last trial that God made of them. For whereas both these, namely, the carnal and spiritual privileges of Abraham's covenant, had been carried on together in a mixed way for many generations, coming now to be separated, and a trial to be made, who of the Jews had interest in both, who in one only; those who had only the carnal privilege of being children of Abraham according to the flesh, contended for a share, on that single account, in the other also, that is, in all the promises annexed to the covenant. But the foundation of their plea was taken away, and the church unto which the promises belong, remained with them that were heirs of Abraham's faith only. The church unto whom all the spiritual promises belong, are only those who are heirs of Abraham's faith, believing as he did, and thereby interested in his covenant."

(To be continued.)

POETRY.

THE SUICIDE.

SENT to the public school to know
All science teaches here below,
Young Hotspur left paternal care,
With plodding skulls their toil to share.

Untutor❜d yet in specious arts,
To practise man's worse-featur'd parts,
Eager he bent his active mind,
The problematic clue to find.

Ambitious he to top the school,
Soon master'd each directed rule,
Each prize he gained, each honour won,
And through the classic circle run.

Now summon'd to his father's board,
From school to active life he soar'd;
His parent, with a father's joy,
Fondly embraced his darling boy.

But in domestic bliss full oft
A cloud of sorrow hangs aloft;
"Twas e'en just so,--for in a day
The sire had chang'd to lifeless clay!

"Wo worth the day," for thee, alas!
Had such a blow not come to pass,
Thou might'st have yet adorned that spot
Where future crimes thy fame did blot.

The tide of sorrow soon restrain'd,
Young Hotspur his possessions gain'd;
And with a rapture, heard 'twas near
Twice fifteen hundred pounds a year.
Awake to each enticing joy,
Too soon the inexperienced boy
Became the dupe of those who sought
To share that bliss he dearly bought.

Vain of his wealth, his listening ear
Each flattering compliment did bear;
And while their poison they infused,
His open confidence abused.

Vice is progressive; else it might
Disgust at once by its own light;
Cautious at first, they slowly led
Their victim to its fountain head.

He, unsuspicious of their art,
Took in each vice an active part,
Quaff'd up the wine-declar'd with oath,
Women or wine-be lov'd them both.

He did, and habit soon confirm'd
Those prepossessions, which return'd,
As day returning, brought to view
Seductive objects still more new.

Thas five years roll'd in giddy round,
For each of all the five had found
The spendthrift still to reason lost,
On seas of dissipation toss'd.

Five years bad sped, the sixth had dawn'd,
Nor saw he yet the gulf that yawn'd

So wide before him, to devour
The last frail remnant of bis power.

Yet soon he started from his dream,
For stern conviction's flash did gleam
As horrible as when on high
The swift-wing'd lightning rends the sky.

Yes, he repented, but, say when?
When all was squander'd?-Yes, 'twas then!
When friends deceitful bade adieu,
When all his wealth had vanish'd too.

'Twas then too late-ah! so he found,
As ventur'd he to cast around
His swimming eyes on all that track,
Which vain desire would rescue back.
Tumultuous passions fill his breast,
Nor this nor that place finds he rest;
Hope might inspire him, but despair
Within his soul held empire there.

Ah! would he peace of mind obtain,
And from his loss experience gain?
Religion then would give him more
Than all he wish'd or had before.

But pride lit up that scorching fire, 'Twas pride that rais'd its flames still higher, 'Twas this that urg'd him to that wave Which roll'd upon his sea-wash'd grave.

But Lucifer, who, for his pride was hurl'd From heaven's bright portals to the flaming world,

To dwell in galling chains, and penal fire,
Envied the happiness of our first sire;
Seduc'd him by temptation's magic skill,
To violate his sov'reign Maker's will;
To plunge himself and all his helpless race,
In guilt, in sorrow, and in deep disgrace.
But God, whose mercy is immensely great,
Pitied the culprit in his fallen state;
Contriv'd a plan to rescue him from thrall,
And cleanse his heart from sin's envenom'd

gall;

A plan in which his wisdom, truth, and love, Should shine resplendent, while the hosts above Stoop from their pearly thrones in deep amaze, To view with wonder man restor❜d by grace.

That cheering promise which Jehovah made, "The woman's seed shall bruise the serpent's head;"

Inspir'd with humble hope the guilty pair, Assuag'd their anguish, and allay'd their fear; When banish'd Eden, and condemn'd to go And till the ground, and bear the curse of wo. After four thousand years had wing'd their flight,

And men were sitting in the shades of night,

That star arose upon our rebel fold,

To patriarchs promis'd, and by seers foretold,
To chase the gloom of hellish night away,
And turn our darkness into gospel day.
Let us, Eliza, view with wond'ring eyes,
That radiant orb upon our world arise.
Messiah comes! but where his stately throne,
His splendid equipage, his golden crown?
Where are his posts of honour to bestow,
And mighty armies to subdue the foe?
Does he appear with thousands by his side,
To raise the Jew, and quell the Roman's pride?
Ah! no-a servant's form he meekly wears;
No earthly grandeur in our sight appears.

Though 'twas his plastic mandate which gave

birth

To sun and moon, and stars, and verdant earth;
Though lord of all th' angelic host above,
Who bend before the throne of heav'nly love,
To save our guilty race from endless wo,
He left the realms of light for realms below.
For us he wore a crown of prickly thorn,
For us his limbs were pierc'd, transfix'd and

torn;

For us the rugged cross to Calv'ry bore;
For us he stain'd the grass with purple gore;
For us he bow'd his sacred head and died;
For us a fount was open'd in his side;
For us he clos'd the mouth of hell's abyss:
For us he op'd the gates of endless bliss.
He drew the sting of death, perfum'd the grave,
And rose on high, a simple world to save.
O love divine, unparallel'd, supreme,
Be thou my solace, and my constant theme!
And may Eliza, too, this love adore,
That when to heav'n's bright world our spirits

PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS, OR
CHOICE SWEETS.

How sweet to rove at opening day,
When May's choice flow'rs are springing;
To catch the morning's early ray,

And hear soft warblers singing.

How sweet to seek the shady grove,
When summer suns are shining;
To deck with flow'rs the gay alcove,
The tender buds entwining.

The happy moments, oh ! how sweet,
When lovers' vows are plighted;
And all their hopes and wishes meet,
In heart and soul united!

Sweet, then, is the responsive sigh,
From the soft bosom stealing;
Sweet, too, the pledge and tender tie,
Their fond affection sealing.

How sweet is liberty to those

In dungeons dark and dreary;
And sweet the hour of soft repose,
To pilgrims weak and weary.
And oh! how doubly sweet must be
The joy that follows mourning;
And, to the parent, sweet to see
A long-lost child returning,

rose

Swift as a pouncing tiger, and in form As horrid-black Despair!-then with his wing,

Dark as the depth of that profound abyss Where all are his curst slaves, hideous as death,

He hid the mighty spirit. Then a gloom,
Worse than the darkness fated to the blind,
Shrouded his mind, and ignorance again,
More watchful by his former acquisition,
Weighed sorely on him, and oppress'd his soul.
Then the strong spirit, like a hero wounded,
Striving for life against a powerful foe,
Wrestled and grappled with transcendent
power.

The shades grew darker, and his fierce opponents

Pressed with more force, and seem'd yet more

terrific.

He turn'd and struggled, and the clanking fetters

Creaked thro' their rusty links. He writh'd, he wrestled,

But all was vain. The adamantine chains Bound his Herculean nerves, and kept him helpless,

But yet he rested not; he strove for freedom,
As a fierce lion in the huntsman's toils,
Struggles, and paws, and rages, in despair,
To gain his liberty, just so he struggled.
And like the savage fainted not for fear,
But firm, unceasing, strove to gain his end.

A ray of light shot through the vault of heav'n.

Its luminous appearance shocked the spectres. A powerful beam piercing the dreadful dark

'Twas then he heard the songs of distant days, Telling, in notes enchanting, glorious deeds. Recounting to his ears the names of heroes, And their surprising feats, in lays melodious. "Twas then be felt desire arise within

To know these ancient glories; but the chains Which bound him, and the spectre pair which watch'd

Unceasingly around, thwarted his hope.
Concentrating within him all his force,

And gathering all his powers for one strong struggle,

As men besieged, for their last desperate sally, He lay a moment-suddenly he movedWrestling against his mighty enemies,

And with enormous strength, seizing his chains, He snapt the iron bond, it yields before him, As the green withs and cords to Samson yielded.

At sight of this, Despair, all panic-struck, Stood for a moment, like a statue fixt, Half-wild, half-stupid with astonishment. At length recovered from his fright, be fled. The spirit struggled still, and Ignorance Had fallen victim to his dire revenge, But she fled also. Nymphs and shades of yore Flutter'd with buoyant wing around his head, And he, struggling for liberty and life, Broke with gigantic might the other chain.

But scarcely was he free, when there arose, From the deep shades beneath, a ghastly form, The sire of Ignorance and dark Despair, With frown terrific. He cast forth a gleam Worse than the three-fork'd lightning of high heaven.

Its hideous rays alighting on this spirit, O'erpower'd his eyes, and caused a short-lived darkness.

Then flew the monster, binding him again
With the strong chains of poverty awhile.
But as the phoenix from its ashes rises

A creature fresh and strong, renewed through

bond;

Again was free, with life and bliss before him.

But as I gazed to see how he improv'd
That life, that liberty, he just had gain'd,
Wondering what such an intellect would do;
I saw a being from the skies descending.
The plumage of this heav'nly messenger
Reflected the sun's rays with tenfold lustre;
Its golden hues were interspersed with sable.
His name on earth is called Futurity.

He came, and, for a moment, bound my eyes.
(To me it seem'd a moment, though an age,
Including a whole life.) He left his hold--
I look'd for him whom I had viewed so long,
But he had left his station, and was gone,
Where every human being gropes his way
Through that extensive ever rolling stream,
Time's mighty river-he has passed its bounds,
And gained the ocean of Eternity.

TO THE EVENING STAR. GLITTERING Spark! refulgent orb! Well mayest thou my thoughts absorb; While I view thee rais'd on high Like a diamond in the sky: Like a diamond?-No, thy light Far more glorious and bright

Than the purest costliest gem
In a monarch's diadem.
Much I love on thee to gaze,
When the sun's receding rays
Faintly tinge the distant blue
With a lovely golden hue,
And each cloud that sails along
Seems his visit to prolong;
Then I view thy silvery light
As the harbinger of night,
And reflect upon the grace
Which sustains in boundless space,
Suns, and stars, and worlds, and spheres,
Through infinitude of years.
Yet the glorious Lord of all
Deigns to hear me when I call,
And invites me still to bring
All my sorrows to my King.
May I own his gentle sway,
May he help me to obey!

He who form'd yon starry sky,
He who placed the sun on high,
Sovereign source of heat and light,
And the moon that rules the night,
As my Maker I adore.
Form'd by his almighty power,
Into being first I came,
He sustains my feeble frame :
While the planets' course he guides,
O'er my actions he presides,
Marks each secret rising thought,
Each to judgment will be brought.
Heav'n and earth shall pass away,
At the great decisive day;
Every glittering star shall fall,
And this vast terrestrial ball
Into chaos shall return;

But this glorious truth I learn:
E'en the feeblest child of man,
Whose brief life is but a span,
Shall the wreck of worlds survive,
By his Maker kept alive;
An eternity to spend,

Where his praises shall ascend,
With the countless myriads bright,
To his Saviour, thron'd in light;
Or, descending far below,
Suffer endless, hopeless wo.
They who sought the Saviour's face,
There shall gain a happy place,
With him they shall ever reign,
Free from sorrow, sin, and pain;
Of his matchless love they'll tell,
And the song of triumph swell;
Evermore they'll praise his name,
And his matchless love proclaim.
He redeem'd them by his blood,
They receiv'd him as their God;
He deliver'd them from hell,
With himself in bliss to dwell.
Still they'll praise him, still they'll sing
Of their sov 'reign Lord and King;
Safely brought through all their cares,
Answer'd all their anxious prayers;
All their tears are wiped away,
And throughout an endless day
Praise shall form their sole employ,
Happiness without alloy
Shall their glorious portion be,
Blest throughout eternity.

But the awful contrast view: They who Jesus's mercy knew,

And despised his wondrous grace,
Then will sink to that dread place,
Where the worm shall never die,
But, throughout eternity,
Each succeeding age will bring
With it this corroding sting.-

Through my own neglect I came
To this dire abode of shame;
Once I scoff'd at Jesus' blood,
And despised the wrath of God;
Now my day of grace is past,
In this doleful region cast,
I must bear the vengeance due
To my sins of deepest hue.
But if I had sought his face,
He had not withheld his grace;
Life was given to seek the Lord,
But I scorn'd the heav'nly word;
Rov'd in sin's bewildering maze,
And despis'd religion's ways,
Till the sovereign mandate came,
• Dust thou art,' and to the same
Thou must speedily return,
Fit companion for the worm.
Forc'd to listen, to obey,

The body sunk, to worms a prey;
But the principle within,
All defil'd and stain'd with sin,
That was hurried swiftly on
By a fierce relentless throng,
Upward; to continue?-No,
But to sink to endless wo;
Where each lucid fiery beam,
Which may o'er the darkness gleam,
Will the dreadful future shew,
Of this dire abode of wo.

Then the righteous will enjoy
Peace which nought can e'er destroy,
And the wise more highly shine
Than the painter's art sublime
E'er in liveliest colours drew,
Or the cloudless ether blue
E'er adorn'd. But brighter they
Who had found the heav'nly way,
Leading them to joy and peace,
And endeavour'd to increase
Their Redeemer's happy train,
And the sinner's heart to gain,
For their Lord and Saviour dear,
To instruct them in his fear;
Taught them that he died to save
Them from an eternal grave.
These shall shine with greater light
Than the glittering planets bright;
Oh, may I, and all I love,
Join that heav'nly host above;
There to praise the Saviour's name,
And his boundless grace proclaim;
These are thoughts I love to trace,
When I view thy silv'ry face.

REVIEW.-The Deserted City; Eva, a Tale in two Cantos; and other Poems. By Joseph Bounden. London. Longman, Hurst, and Co. 1824. pp. 226. THE "Deserted City" is a simple and elegant poem; though too close a resemblance of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village." Hence it is unfortunate, because it cannot but form a contrast with that most exquisite performance.

The commencement is a fair sample of this obvious similitude,

"Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain," &c. GOLDSMITH.

"Proud Urburgh! once fair city of this land," &c. DESERTED CITY.

It never rises far above mediocrity, and it seldom sinks beneath it. The lines are smooth, and the cadences harmonious; but it is spun out too far, giving rise to numerous unnecessary digressions. It extends to eightysix pages, each containing, on an average, twenty-four lines. The following are among the best.

"Now let me turn my lonely wand'ring feet Amidst yon ruins of a noble street.

What melancholy silence slumbers here, Where busy tumult lately fill'd the ear! Day-dreaming owls in desert chambers sleep;

And birds obscene thro' useless temples

No feet save mine remain to tread the ground; No other voice invades the still profound. Nor neighing steeds nor rattling wheel is beard:

Nor midnight sound, except the shrieking bird:

No more the proud cathedral's deep-ton'd bell

Proclaims the circling hours with solemn swell

No more the punctual tradesman marks the day;

Nor idler loiters his long hours away:

In vain the sun his morning beams bestows; Here none are left to rise from night's repose;

The moon in vain her softer radiance pours; None-none remain to hail the pensive hours;

Time treads his round, unreckon'd and unknown;

And deathlike silence claims this spot her

own

Here holds her speechless reign,-here builds her midnight throne." p. 19-20.

The second in order is "Eva," a most charming poem. We have seldom, in later years, read more exquisite poetry; we could hardly persuade ourselves that the same author had written both. The poem opens with a description of the beautiful Eva; of her romantic habits, and of the magnificent scenery through which she loved to wander. fond of moonlight scenery; so are we. The following stanza, for instance, is exquisite.

Mr. B. is very