POETRY. TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. S. F. WHO FELL ASLEEP IN JESUS, MAR, 2, 1796, TH AGED 33. HE dear immortal's took her flight From shades of sin, to realms of light, No more to mourn an absent God, No more to dread Affliction's ród. She now has pass'd the vale of tears, And bid adieu to all her fears; Outrid the storms of earth and hell, Arriv'd in heaven with Christ to dwell. No more in Meshech she abides, Nor dwells near Jordan's swelling tides, No more she feels the war within No more laments the power of sin. Wrapt in the vision of her Ged, With ecstacy she shouts abroad The vict'ries of Immanuel's grace Display'd to Adam's guilty race. And while she triumphs in the thought, That millions are to glory brought, This is the wonder of the whole, That Jesus has redeem'd her soul. This is the summit of her bliss, To find herself where Jesus is, For ever to behold his face, Encircled in his arms of grace. Now her enlarged mind surveys A Providence in all his ways, And traces every step she took, While here, by that unerring book. And, O what raptures fill her soul, While reading the mysterious roll; No mortal tongue can e'er express, Nor heart conceive, nor angel guess. That which on earth did oft appear A source of soul-tormenting fear, is now made known with its design, And well bespeaks the work divine. Not one affliction that was sent, But had its weight and measurement, First taken in the courts above, Replete with wisdom and with love. The darkness and the conflicts sore, Which she endur'd, and patient bore, Were all design'd to pave a way For Grace to shine in bright array, Thus, thro' the desert and the deep, The tender shepherd of his sheep Watch'd o'er the object of his choice, And made her in his name rejoice. Ah! could this pen describe the whole Just as the last important stroke, SIR, S. F. STOP TOP thy career, and turn thy laughing eye, [joy, Flush'd with conceit of riches, youth, and To Death's sure, rapid, terrible approach. Ah! what will it avail at close of life, The empty boasting of thy vainful heart, Just like a bubble blown up in the air, And breaks whilst glistering with the Tyrian dies! [thy steps, Cease from thy course! nor madly urge Without one wary glance where Ruin lies Ambush'd to strike thee with her barbed darts. Pale Death stalks round thee, whose ful.filment soon [thee; Arrests the rapid wheel of Time with And soon revolving seasons cease to roll. Hell gapes its pond'rous jaws-Heaven stands reveal'd; [on Earth, with portentous struggles, urges Thy rebel steps to seek a happier land. The Gospel, mark'd divine, wide to thy view In living characters bespeaks thine eye; And far and wide, triumphant in its train, It draws the prince, the peasant, and the slave; [the high, Brings down the proud, conceited, and And robs them of their honours in the dust; Lifts up the lowly and the contrite heart, Who sighs for Truth to guide his erring steps, [surround. Free from the thousand whirlpools that Immortal soul! Immanuel waits to save. O! would thy stubborn enmity submit To that blest page, which paints him to thy view! [here; His birth, his life, our joy and comfort His suff'rings, death, our hope for peace and heav'n, Of everlasting bliss, unknown on earth, Where vice and sorrow, with gigantic strides, [sway, Stalk o'er the land, and ho'd a boundless And stretch their baneful sceptre d'er the mind; [guilt, The human mind beclouded wit.. her Where Conscience, with her scourge of tenfold ire, [joy; Proclaims no peace, nor yields one solid Joy to be found alone where heav'n reveal'd, [blood. Gives us a welcome thro' Immanuel's Should he in anger cut thy thread of life, [thoughts And launch thee off!-Send forth thy To dread Eternity's unbounded sea. Then turn them to that Saviour's wondrous love, [heart Which still invites thee to bestow thy Where never-failing streams of pleasure flow. [the lay, There mayest thou join in pouring forth The lay melodious to that sov'reign [found; At whose meek cross, thy soul acceptance Now landed safely where no sin invites, And blissful millions, rebels like thyself, Adore the grace, which snatch'd them from the flame. thron'd, Their boasted pleasures, wealth and fame, THE Evangelical Magazine, FOR APRIL, 1797. BIOGRAPHY. MEMOIRS OF THE LATE REVEREND TH HE Rev. John Carver was born A. D. 1733, at Southill, in Bedfordshire, and was several years a member of the Independent church of that place, of which church his father was a deacon. That piety, and thofe talents which fhone, with increafing luftre, to the close of his life, difcovered themselves at a very early period; but unaffected modefty, and confcientious motives, prevented his entering into the ministry till he had completed his thirtieth year. He began by privately exercifing his gifts before the church, and after wards established an evening lecture among his poor neighbours, to whom he preached after the labours of the day were clofed. He continued these exercises, and fome occafional services, a confiderable time before he relinquished his fecular employment, and devoted himself entirely to the fervice of the church. At length, however, he accepted the unanimous and urgent invitation of a small, but affectionate, congregation at Kirtling, near Newmarket, in Cambridgeshire. With this people he remained till the year 1770, when he removed to Wellingborough, in Northamptonfhire, which fituation he filled near twenty-feven years with great refpectability and usefulness, his life and labours ending on January 31, 1797. Mr. Carver had not the advantage of an academical education; but his understanding, naturally vigorous, was cultivated by reading and reflection. In converfation he was-habitually ferious without gloom, and cheerful without levity. He poffeffed, to an uncommon degree, the happy talent of giving a devotional turn to almoft every fubject. Far from VOL. V. affuming T |