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MR. EDITOR, BY way of rescuing the name of a pious nd Atudious man from oblivion, I send

you he foliowing pieces of Poetry, wriiten by Ir. John Lagniel, of Sindwich in Kent, vho died in 1728. . He left behind hin a arge quantity of poetical writings, none of vhich have ever yet appeared in print. Many of them (transcribed from the origiials) were lately entrusted to my hands, rom which I have selected several pretty pieces; and, by the consent of the friend who favoured me with them, I design to ransmit copies of them for the Evangelical Magazine. Take the following as a specimen for the present, which I hope you will Lafert, and you will oblige



When distempers oft annoy it,

Can we hope for quiet here?
When grim Death will soon destroy it,

Can we think its end not near?
When new troubles daily vex us,

Can we hope for rest on earth? When our guilt does more perplex us,

Can we melt our hearts in mirthi If we fancy'd Death ftill by us,

Should not we for Death prepare ! If we still thought troubles nigh us,

Should not we then better bear ? If the world we rightly prized,

Should not we its joys disdain ? If we once the world despised,

Should we of its frowns complain ! If we then would live contented,

Should not we expect the worft ? If we would not die tormented, Should not death be minded first ?




'HEN Tyro his green years did

In mirth, excefles, games, and strife ;
Him Philo counsel'd as a friend,

To think of death, and mend his life, But he reply'd, “ 'Tis yet too soon;

Youth calls for frolics, sports, and wine ; My days have yet noticách'd their noon;

'Tis time for this when they decline," To this said Philo, 'Have you then

A lease of life, with years in store ?" "As much," said he, 65 as other men,

Who yet to seventy live, or more. This said, he smiled, and parted so ;

But ah! in two months time he dy'd ; * And Ob! that I had liparkend to Good Philo's words !” he dying cry'd.


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HEN our life's a lighted taper,

Can we wonder it should watte ? When it is but like a vapour,

Can we fancy it should last ?

EVIVING Spring once more appears

To chase the colds and damps away, To dry up Nature's wintry tears,

And clothe the trees in blossoms gay: The fun each day his smile prolongs, And every grove is fill'd with fongs. Now sporting on the scented gale

The infect tribes their clase pursue,



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Or creeping o'er the Row'ry dale,

Collect their sweets, and sip the dew.
And spangled bright, the finny broods
Repeople the trantlucent foods.
Their vig'rous shoots the herbage raise,

And paint with flowers the filvan scene, While flocks and herds the pasture graze,

And feast upon the living green : Each grain shoots through the moisten'd soil, And hope repays the farmer's toit. Nowspringing from their new-trimm'd beds,

Ang ting'd with nature's varied bloom, The garden's beauties lift their heads,

And fill the zephyrs with perfume.
Now men and beasts with joy repair
From wintry holds to rural air.
O ye! whose lot is mean and low,

Whose state is win er all the year :
Who is it makes the grass to grow,

Or bids the lily's bloom appear?
Lift up to him the tearful eye,
He knows, and, will your wants fupply.
O ye! who doubt the sacred

page When faith expects a rifing morn, Who, proud of Reason's boalted age,

Reject the Christian's hope with scorn, In nature, your own book, perceive How God can inake the dead to live, Oye! whose weeping spirits mourn

Your absent fun, your wintry itate, Soon fhail his cheering beams rerurn,

And a new joyful spring create : The precious feet bedew'd with tears, At length abundant harveft bears.


Thought pleasure's course was just begung
Nor dreamt how soon life's glass is run.
Child like, he's pleas'd with gilded toys,
Bealt like, he lives on sensual joys;
Nor eye, for heart to heav'n is bent,
Solely on earth and sia intent.
“ Long shall I live," he vainly cries,
“ T' enjoy my luft, and fealt my eyes;
Of pleasure's bowl l'll drink my fill

, Nor dream of care, or worldly ill,” When lo! from heaven a voice proclaims, “ Thou fool, give o'er delusive dreams; Thy day of grace is now expir’d, This very night thy soul's requir’d." This call admits of no delay; 'Tis vain to mourn, 'tis vain to pray; So lives, so dies the gracelets foo!, Who loves the world, and damns his foul.

J. T. &

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Another fings, how happy's he

O'er bowls of sparkling wine, And join'd with merry company,

Who bless the fruitful vine. But Christ, the most renown'd and good,

Is very rarely sung ;
Men seldom make their Saviour's blood

The mulic of their tongue.
But did they know his worth like me,

Nought but his righteous praise Would fill their lips; his praise would be

The theme of all their lays.
O mighty Hero ? glorious King!

More than ten thousand fair !
Thy praise let me for ever fing

The while I tarry here.

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Evangelical Magazine,





[CONCLUDED.) THE former part of the Memoir of Mr. Shrubsole, in

the preceding Magazine, was concluded with a recital of the failure both of his bodily health and mental energy; but it was observed, that his inner-man'was greatly renewed and invigorated, and that his desire to depart and to be with his Divine Mafter, was cordial, conftant, and animating. These observations, it is presumed, will be exemplified in the following extracts of letters, which are the laft written memorials of his life, and which were addreffed to his Son in London.

On the 28th of December, 1796, he thus wrote: “ I find the negotiations for peace are quite ruptured :: This gives me great concern, and looks very frowning on the nations. I know not how fatal the event may be, but I am happy to think that I shall not long abide in this Mesec, nor continue my habitation in these tents of Kedar. How desirable is the Christian's hope at such a time as this ! I often anticipate my future company and enjoyments, with unspeakable' delight. O may I much more anticipate and realize the great and glorious scenes before me! I know whom I have believed, and am disposed to submit to his will, whenever he Thall command me hence. I have nothing to live for, but to fee Christ's kingdom come with power, and that will be best seen from above."

During the month of January, 1797, his health fluctuated; but, upon the whole, he seemed better than he Vol. V. 3C


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