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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/medleypfjoygriefOOIady 
 
M1B1M* 
 
 OF 
 
 JOY AND GRIEF ; 
 
 BEING 
 
 » Selection of ©rijjtnal pieces* 
 
 IN 
 
 PROSE AJYD VERSE, 
 
 CHIEFLY ON RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS 
 
 BY A LADY OF NEW- YORK, 
 
 Behold, happy are they whom God correcteth: therefore despise tiot thou the 
 • hasten ings of the Almighty ; for he maketh sore and bindeth up: he woundeth, and 
 his hands make wh«»ie. He shall deliver thee in six troubles: yea, in seven there 
 -hall no evil touch thee. — Job. 
 
 " I will sing of the mercies of the Lord for ever: with my mouth will I make 
 known Ids faithfulness"— And with my heart will I praise him, for he hath made 
 rae a wonder unto many, and hath done wondrous things for me. 
 
 NEW-YORK 
 
 PUBLISHED BY W. E. GILLEY, 92 BROADWAY: 
 Gray 6f Bunce, Printers. 
 
 1822. 
 
 "•->/ 
 
 ^ /r /lis . . ... ~ , >. \ PA 
 
T 
 
 qt > 
 
 H 
 
 SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW-YORK, TO WIT: 
 UK IT REMEMBERED, That on the ninth day of May, in the lorty-sixth year 
 or the Independence of the United ^States of America ,W.B. Gilley, of the said 
 district, hath deposited in this office, the title of a hook, the right whereof he claims 
 as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: 
 
 « A MEDLEY OF JOY AND GRIEF ; being a Selection of Original Pieces in 
 Prose and Verse, chiefly on Religious Subjects. By a Lady of NtW-York. Behold 
 haZ'l are they whom God corrected: therefore despise not thou the chastemngs of 
 tteAbni'shty: for he maketh sore and bindeth up: he woundtth and his hands 
 mukt whole. He shall deliver thee in six troubles: yea, in seven there shcdl no evil 
 tout thee.-J oh. « / xvill sing of the mercies of the Lord for ever : with my mouth 
 will 1 moke hiormi his faithfulness"- And with my heart mil I praise him, for he hath 
 made me a wonder unto many ; and hath done wondrous things for me. 
 
 In comformitv to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An act for 
 tlieSraKement of learning, by securing the Copies, ol Maps, Charts, and Books, 
 to the a" thfrs and Proprietors of such Copies, during the time herein mentioned I,' 
 - ,imto»nact entitled "an Act, supplementary to an net, entitled an Act for the 
 %£&£££& leSSL by securing the Copies ef Maps, Charts, and Books, to 
 JheautnS ana proprietor Pof such copies, during the times therein mentioned, and 
 extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing engraving, and etching his- 
 torical and other prints." JAMK9 DIltj 
 
 Clerk of the Southern District ofJSew-York. 
 
 
PREFACE 
 
 When the subsequent miscellaneous pieces, were 
 penned, I lirttle thought that they would meet the public 
 eye, but my pecuniary circumstances and the advice and 
 persuasion of some judicious friends, have induced me to 
 submit them to publication ; .though they were written 
 from the impulse of feeling, under severe affliction : 1 
 hope, therefore, that these circumstances will be a suffi- 
 cient apology for my oifering to the public liberality a 
 work so humble and imperfect, composed at intervals of 
 comparative ease during a long, singular and distressing 
 malady : a malady which deeply affected my head, and 
 for the most part also, the powers of my mind. 
 
 I hope the friends who have so generously subscribed 
 to this little work will view it with a charitable eye. 
 I am truly sensible that , to a critical reader, many, very 
 many defects will be discernible. One, I myself am sen- 
 sible of, which is, Tautology, or dwelling too often on one 
 subject. If my readers should think with me on this 
 head, their liberality, I hope, will throw the mantle of 
 charity over this fault ; as it is a defect of the memory, 
 which has become exceedingly treacherous, through the 
 violence of my disorder. 
 
 I am conscious of many other defects ; but into what- 
 ever hands they come, I hope the render will feel more 
 
v PREFACE. 
 
 disposed to pity than to censure. In perusing the manu- 
 script, I perceived that many corrections might be made ; 
 but I found my head too much confused and perplexed to 
 make them, and consequently, am obliged to submit the 
 work in its present state ; but with a hope that my reader 
 will make every allowance for the want of the health and 
 vigour which are necessary to prepare such a work for the 
 press. I have read nearly two thirds of it to an aged 
 friend, whose sight would not permit him to peruse it 
 himself: he kindly pointed out some errors. To this 
 friend, and a few others who have assisted in transcribing, 
 my grateful thanks are due. 
 
 One other thing I would beg leave to observe, that I 
 am naturally fond of contemplating the beauties of crea- 
 tion, and on that account may have touched this subject 
 oftcner than may be gratifying to some ; but I hope, 
 the apology I have already offered will satisfy these. 
 
 Notwithstanding the motives I have heretofore express- 
 ed in this preface, I trust I can say from my heart, that 
 since I have had it in contemplation to publish this work, 
 weak and humble as it is, it has been my constant prayer 
 to God that it may be made instrumental in doing some 
 good, sensible that the HOLY ONE OF ISRAEL is able 
 to bring good out of the smallest things. It is my constant 
 praver that He will condescend to bless it, to all into 
 whose hands it may fall. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Xew-York y April, 1822, 
 
OF 
 
 JOY AND GRIEF. 
 
 ANSWER TO MRS. M. JACKSON'S QUESTION 
 May, 1S21. 
 
 At your request I will, my lovely friend, 
 A small account of my conversion send, 
 And hope your goodness will all faults excuse, 
 Of the sad wand'rings of my humble muse. 
 You ask, what were the Lord's first means and ways 
 He took to teach my sinful tongue to praise, 
 To raise my carnal thoughts from Earth to Heav'n, 
 And seek to have my num'rous sins forgiven ? 
 List then, my Margaret, while the muse doth sing 
 The love and power of our immortal King ; 
 Aid me some kind and blissful power above, 
 To tell his goodness and to sing his love. 
 Not by the terrors of the law, as some, 
 Did God to me in fearful threatenings come ; 
 Not in the thunder did my judge appear; 
 " But in a still small whisper through the ear :" 
 
 A 2 
 
6 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 'Twas with the silken chords of tranquil love 
 He gently drew my grovelling thoughts above : 
 His persevering and unwearied grace 
 For years in my sad bosom sought a place ; 
 He kindly wooed me to his spreading arms, 
 I felt his wooings — and beheld his charms ; 
 The glorious sight o'ercame my wond'ring soul, 
 Which did in waves of constant sorrows roll, 
 His love was strong, its overpowering rays 
 Did in my breast a tender passion raise, 
 A sacred flame, that still exists within, 
 Heavenward burning though enclosed by sin. 
 It came with quick'ning power from above, 
 And made me willing to return his love, 
 "Gladly received the offer of his grace, 
 An J in his heart my weak love gave a place. 
 Thus was a holy God and me made one ; 
 One, through the merits of his righteous Son, 
 Who sought me roving in the highway road, 
 And turned my feet, and brought me back to God. 
 
 But I loved long — and tasted love divine, 
 Ere I well knew this wretched heart of mine ; 
 But God my ignorance did in time remove, 
 And my sad blindness kindly did reprove. 
 He by degrees unfolded to my view, 
 The hidden evils I before ne'er knew : 
 But ah ! how slow to learn, how vain a fool, 
 The dullest scholar in the Christian school ! 
 What various means my gracious God did take 
 To show my nature, and my sense to wake ; 
 I saw in part, but did not in the full 
 See the huge crimes that stained my guilty soul ; 
 At length one day a sudden shining light 
 Brought the great catalogue of guilt to sight. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 7 
 
 Walker* I held ! and God's most holy book ; 
 Each in their turn, I search'd with earnest look ; 
 There found God's word and Walker both agree, 
 Proving the depth of my depravity. 
 
 mighty depth ! it made the volumes drop, ' 
 And, for the moment, almost lose my hope. 
 
 But Oh ! Christ's love, on whom my hopes were built, 
 
 Was deeper still than my vast depth of guilt ; 
 
 He saw, and on the wings of mercy flew, 
 
 Revived my hopes, and did my strength renew, 
 
 Cancell'd my sins, increased my faith and love. 
 
 Thus did my Saviour's tender pity move ; 
 
 Thus did my Jesus, through his servant lead, 
 
 My soul to see its sins, and feel its need. 
 
 Maclay's entitled to my grateful love, 
 
 His preaching did through grace sweet blessings prove. 
 
 Ne'er will my soul forget the happy day 
 
 When Walker's works did my vast sins portray, 
 
 And God's blest word approved the truth they bore, 
 
 My pardon spoke, and bid me sin no more. 
 
 Margaret, I loved ere I griev'd much for sin, 
 
 Or felt the guilt I since have felt within ; 
 
 Or ere I clearly understood the plan 
 
 Of God's Salvation to poor fallen man. 
 
 Till in the well remember'd blessed hour, 
 
 The Lord display'd his all victorious power, 
 
 1 was, alas ! a stranger to my heart, 
 Had not for sin oft felt a pungent smart ; 
 But when I saw myself a captive chain'd 
 By Satan's fetters, then my soul was pain'd, 
 And cried to God to send me quick relief, 
 Which I obtain'd of Jesus through belief. 
 
 , * Walker's Letters to Knox. 
 
8 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 'Tvvas then I saw my condemnation clear, 
 But the great view did not excite my fear; 
 My state amaz'd me — but more 'maz'd I stood, 
 To read the love, and clemency of God ! 
 To read the goodness of offended heaven, 
 And feel the mighty score of sins forgiven. 
 
 The Scriptures now again I did explore, 
 And found them new, though read them oft before ; 
 God's love and mercy with new eyes I saw, 
 And lov'd the justice of his holy law : 
 I felt mj'self, what I ne'er felt before, 
 The vilest wretch that rov'd Columbia's shore ! 
 Thus self abas'd, and Christ exalted high, 
 I felt as though I could with angels vie ; 
 Though angels kept their perfect state above, 
 They did not, could not, taste redeeming love ; 
 And though my soul was still beset with sin, 
 Angels ne'er felt what I then felt within. 
 
 Auspicious hour, that set the captive free, 
 And thus espous'd my dearest Lord and me ! 
 Transporting moment ! sweet remembered day ! 
 When God such wondrous mercy did display. 
 Would now it were, as in those happy days, 
 When first he taught my heart and tongue to praise ; 
 Could I recall those blissful hours again, 
 My longing heart should never more complain ; 
 Could I as sensibly behold his face, 
 Feel the exquisite workings of his grace, 
 My panting soul would spare no toil nor pain, 
 Could that the much desired bliss obtain. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 How time has fled ! 'Tis fifteen years this May, 
 Since God the joyful tidings did convey 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 
 
 Of free Salvation to tliis sinful breast, 
 
 And gave my mind for heavenly things a zest; 
 
 Since first I saw such excellence in Christ, 
 
 My Saviour, Prophet, King, and great High Priest, 
 
 Should any ask, what I in Christ could see, 
 
 To give such deep impressions made on me ? 
 
 My muse replies ; his noble nature stole 
 
 The strong affections of my smitten soul, 
 
 The perfect beauty of his works and ways 
 
 Ravish'd these eyes and moved these lips to praise ; 
 
 I saw such virtues in his heavenly face, 
 
 Beheld such wonders in his wond'rous grace, 
 
 Discern'd such mercy in redemption's plan, 
 
 Such matchless love displayed to fallen man, 
 
 That all my confidence in self was lost, 
 
 And God alone became my humble boast; 
 
 My constant theme, my sure and steadfast hope, 
 
 A prop that bore my soul 'midst sorrows up ; 
 
 The peace, the joy, the life, the all and all, 
 
 Of my free ransom'd never dying soul. 
 
 As the fond ivy round the branches twine, 
 
 So did my Saviour round this heart of mine : 
 
 I from the womb had been his constant care, 
 
 But now I in the children's bread did share : 
 
 My guilty soul with more than crumbs was fed, 
 
 It eat, and fatten'd on the choicest bread. 
 
 Though hell deserving — and with pain chastis'd, 
 
 And for my love to God by some despis'd ; 
 
 Yet Oh ! how grace and mercy did abound ! 
 
 What comfort, peace and strength in God I found : 
 
 But since how oft has this perfidious heart 
 
 Acted a roving and ungrateful part. 
 
 Yet still I love him, still new beauties see 
 
 In that dear man who shed his blood for me ; 
 
10 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 The more his character unfolds to view 
 My love increases, and my hopes rise new, 
 Each rising day some lovely traits I ken, 
 Which my blind eyes before have never seen. 
 When to the heav'ns I lift exploring eyes 
 In silent admiration, and surprise, 
 To seek new wonders in the sparkling skies, 
 My thoughts still soar, and long to rend the wall 
 That veils from view the sun that transcends all ; 
 And fain would enter in the holy vale, 
 And have full range within the sacred pale. 
 I long, my Margaret, more than ere before, 
 To fly from sin and rove the heavenly shore, 
 Where God resides and sin is felt no more. 
 
 And now, my friend, a short account I've gi( r en 
 Of the kind dealings and vast love of heav'n. 
 Behold in me a child of Satan's race, 
 Snatch'd from the brink of hell by sovereign grace, 
 And join with me to propagate his fame, 
 To tell his love and praise his lofty name. 
 I bless the Lord that I was born to die ! 
 Oh ! what a miracle of grace am I ! 
 
 A RETROSPECT OF PAST AND PRESENT MERCIES. 
 
 January 1st, 1819. 
 
 Have twelve months more so quickly pass'd away, 
 
 And usher'd in another new year's day ? 
 
 Time, O how short ! — its wheels roll swiftly round 
 
 Yet I am spar'd, and still on praying ground. 
 
 Surprising mercy, that a worthless worm 
 
 Is not cut off, and cast into the tomb. 
 
JOY AND GRIL* , 11 
 
 Now, O my soul, recount thy mercies o'er 
 
 Of the past year, and all the years before ; 
 
 'Twould fill huge volumes to sum up the whole 
 
 Of God's vast goodness to my worthless soul \ 
 
 But yet, his kindness, and his tender care, 
 
 I'll tell the world, if he my life should spare : 
 
 My pen shall now describe, my tongue shall tell, 
 
 How his kind hand hath kept me out of hell : 
 
 I'll speak his mercy and his glorious name, 
 
 Declare his goodness, and his love proclaim. 
 
 Awake, my tongue, and sound his praise abroad, 
 
 And speak aloud the faithfulness of God : 
 
 Break forth, my heart, with joyful accents rise 
 
 In grateful strains to reach the lofty skies. 
 
 O where shall I begin a theme so vast, 
 
 His present goodness, or his goodness past ? 
 
 Speak glowing muse, O speak, and loudly swell 
 
 The theme, on which I could for ever dwell ; 
 
 Begin, and let the saints his goodness hear, 
 
 That they may learn to trust and never fear. 
 
 Ye mourning Christians hear his gracious ways, 
 
 And let your mournings all be turn'd to praise, 
 
 For once, like you, I wept the night away, 
 
 But now I sing the glories of the day. 
 
 Celestial muse, direct my feeble pen, 
 
 And teach my thoughts where they should first begin 
 
 Amidst those troubles and affliction's night, 
 
 Thy love and mercy shone around me bright : 
 
 'Midst sharp diseases, and perpetual pain, 
 
 My mind doth still its faculties retain : 
 
 From year to year, though in the furnace doom'd, 
 
 I'm like the burning bush, not yet consum'd : 
 
 Though in the furnace still, he holds my frame. 
 
 My soul adores amidst the burning flame. 
 
12 A MEDLEI Ob 
 
 love divine, accept my highest praist 
 Amidst the tempest, and the scorching blaze ; 
 For though thou yet protract my pain and wo, 
 And cause the storm still fiercer now to blow, 
 
 1 own thee just, all faithful, wise and good, 
 For I have much deserv'd thy chastening rod : 
 But not in wrath severe — in mercy mild 
 Thou dost correct thy poor unworthy child. 
 When'er my feet, or hands, or e} 7 es did wrong, 
 Thou didst forbear, and suffer with me long ; 
 When sharp my conflicts, and when dangers stood 
 Threat'ning my ruin, then I saw thee good : 
 
 In all my sickness, still thy light did shine 
 With beams of love and mercy all divine ; 
 Thine arm sustain'd beneath the sharpest pain, 
 And grace constrained my lips to praise thy name 
 Before thy foes, and caused their eyes to gaze, 
 Confess thy power, and marvel at thy ways. 
 O bless the Lord my soul — O bless the power 
 That hath sustained me to the present hour ; 
 That led me first to seek a throne of grace, 
 And mercies suited to my needy case. 
 I've felt God's mercies in ten thousand ways ; 
 In providence, I've seen his hand could raise 
 Kind friends in number, who my wants supplied, 
 And nothing, for my comfort, was denied : 
 They still are friends, and still my friends will be, 
 If so directed gracious God by thee, 
 Indulgent parent, author of all good, 
 With thy kind blessings richly spread their board £ 
 Let each thy choicest, heavenly dainties share, 
 Each be thy love, and each thy faithful care : 
 O mark their footsteps, and supply their need, 
 And may their souls on heavenly manna feed : 
 
JOY AND GRIEK 13 
 
 Grant each may rise to sing redeeming love 
 In the bright realms of bliss and joy above. 
 
 Smile kindly on my benefactor's* head, 
 And richly feed his soul with living bread ; " t 
 May heavenly comforts from thy hand come down 
 To cheer his hopes while striving for the crown ; 
 May smiles and peace o'erspread his dwelling round, 
 And plenty ever in his hands abound : 
 Bless him, O God ! in all his works and ways. 
 Be his support and strength when life decays ; 
 When the grim tyrant, death, appears in view, 
 May he triumphant bid the world adieu, 
 And then by angels be conveyed on high. 
 To join the songs of love beyond the sky. 
 
 Lord, bless his partner, and uphold her ways, 
 And cause her aged lips to speak thy praise : 
 O may her faith in thee more vigorous grow, 
 As age advances in this state below ; 
 In her last moments, Lord, display thy power, 
 Let gi;ace and victory crown her latest hour ; 
 And, by a living faith, in Christ repose 
 When death shall come the final scene to close ; 
 Then angels waft her soul to realms above, 
 To sing the praises of redeeming love, 
 To join the saints, and chant the heavenly lay, 
 And wear a crown that fadeth not away, 
 To sing the glories of redeeming grace, 
 And there behold her Saviour face to face. 
 All gracious Father, thy paternal hand 
 Preserves this couple, still my friends to stand : 
 O let me ever feel a grateful sense 
 Of thy kind love, and their beneficence ; 
 
 * Mr. Withington. 
 B 
 
14 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Forbid, my heart should e'er ungrateful prove 
 To thee, and those I have such cause to love : 
 Eternal source, from whence these blessings flow, 
 Kindly thou dost on me thy gifts bestow, 
 And though thy common blessings, yet, they are 
 Conferred on subjects of thy special care : 
 Yet still, far greater mercies than these all, 
 Now, for my highest praises loudly call, 
 I mean his great compassion to my soul, 
 When troubles did in all directions roll. 
 When I look back, — Ah ! I remember well, 
 How the fierce billows o'er mv head did swell ; 
 When pains and fears confined me to my bed, 
 His healing wings expanded o'er my head; 
 When Satan plunged his darts and made me feel,- 
 He then my bleeding wounds did bind and heal; 
 When under darkness, and assailed by foes, 
 He, like a faithful friend, repelled their blows : 
 Amidst these storms, my weary soul reclined 
 By the still waters that refreshed my mind ; 
 On the green pastures feasted through the da} 
 Shielded by night from evil fiends of prey ; 
 And when my soul hath faint and weary been. 
 The Lord hath nourished it with food unseen ; 
 In every station he has been my prop, 
 And kindly borne my sinking spirit up. 
 Almighty God, thy goodness O how great 
 Through the last year, and from my infant state ; 
 E'en whe i I did against thy laws rebel, 
 And turned my feet toward the brink of hell, 
 Thy mere}' still to me was opened wide, 
 And spread its wings my sinful soul to hide, 
 Till the black clouds of danger past my head. 
 And sore temptations with the serpent fled. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. j 5 
 
 Amazing love, and O, surprising grace, 
 
 That undertook for me in every case • 
 
 For me a child of frailty and of sin ; 
 
 O, what a glowing fire I feel within, i 
 
 While I review the goodness of the Lord, 
 
 And thus the wonders of his love record. 
 
 My God, these latter blessings far surpass 
 
 Whate'er the mind can think, or tongue express : 
 
 Here then I'll raise my Ebenezer bold 
 
 In honour of thy love, though not half told : 
 
 My pen shall raise a monument to God 
 
 For a memorial of perpetual good ; 
 
 He hitherto hath helped me, and doth prove 
 
 A God all faithful, and a God all love. 
 
 Yes, Lord, thou art a friend, a friend indeed, 
 
 And one that stickest close in time of need, 
 
 Nor wilt thou leave me when my foes assail, 
 
 Nor suffer once thy faithfulness to fail ; 
 
 In thee I trust, commit my soul to thee 
 
 In life, in death, through all eternity. 
 
 Dear Lord, thy goodness melts my stubborn heart. 
 
 And makes it feel its hardness to depart, 
 
 Lifts up my voice in more exalted praise, 
 
 Constrains my lips ajoyful song to raise, 
 
 My soul to mount and soar on eagles' wings, 
 
 And try « to reach the notes that Gabriel sings • 
 
 But my lips fail," in vain they strive to rise * 
 
 To touch those glorious themes beyond the skies. 
 
 What shall I render then to thy dear name 
 For such vast favours ? Lord, can 1 refrain 
 io offer P ra!§ es and a grateful heart? 
 Repeat the love of my immortal part ? 
 O no! accept, thou condescending Lord, 
 These poor attempts my passion to record : 
 
i6 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But shall I dare, poor, weak, unworthy dust, 
 To love thee, Lord, Almighty, wise and just, 
 Dare to repeat my passion at thy throne, 
 And thus my warmest, tenderest feelings own? 
 'Tis with a deep and humble sense I hope 
 In thee alone, — to thee my soul looks up, 
 And breathes her ardent and her warmest praise. 
 Which grace r and grace divine can only raise * 
 'Tis grace alone creates in me this love, 
 And raises my adoring thoughts above: 
 To grace I'm. debtor, but for precious grace, 
 My nature, Lord, would curse thee to thy face j. 
 My God^'tis grace emboldens me, a worm, 
 To say I love with deep affection warm. 
 Say, why then now these passions all awake ? 
 No common charms such deep impressions make 
 And cause such deep-felt love to glow within ; 
 
 where, my soul, O ! where shall 1 begin ? 
 
 1 want a David's harp to sound his praise, 
 Paul's eloquence my ardent thoughts to raise,. 
 But since my mind can neither these attain, 
 I'll touch the subject in a feebler strain. 
 
 I love the Lord, because he first loved me. 
 And taught my soul its ruined state to see; 
 He taught my soul, when in a wretched case. 
 To seek for mercy at a throne of grace y 
 I sought and found, and blessed be his name, 
 His love to me has ever been the same. 
 How great that love in giving Christ his Son 5 , 
 To die for crimes that sinful man had done: 
 Herein is love, O could I love him more, 
 And with a zeal I never felt before : 
 He knows my heart, and all my ways reviews. 
 Heals my backslidings, and my strength renews* 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 17 
 
 For food and raiment I his name adore, 
 
 And joys divinely good laid up in store, 
 
 For chast'nings and a sanctifying rod 
 
 I love, and still adore my Father God, 
 
 He gives me grace to hope for scenes to come, 
 
 And the sweet promise of a better home. 
 
 But far above ail this I hope and trust 
 
 That I, a poor, weak, frail, unworthy dust, 
 
 Do love from motives of superior kind, 
 
 And with a nobler principle of mind ; 
 
 I trust a. purer passion burns within, 
 
 And from thy grace these higher feelings spring ; 
 
 I trust I truly love a righteous God, [cord. 
 
 With whose blessed ways my wondering thoughts ac- 
 
 To love thee, but for mercies, Lord, I own 
 
 Would be to love, from selfish views alone. 
 
 But no — thy spirit witnesses with mine 
 
 I am thy child by grace and love divine ; 
 
 I'm now espoused to Christ, thy only Son : 
 
 Jesus and I for ever now are one ; 
 
 The tie is binding — Jesus I am thine, 
 
 Thine by redemption, thou by promise mine ; 
 
 Transporting thought, that I should Jesus love ; 
 
 Dost thou such deep confessions well approve ? 
 
 Or hath thy handmaid spoken things too high f 
 
 If so, reprove, and pardoning grace apply ; 
 
 If not, let me repeat my love again ; 
 
 I love thy law, and I revere thy name ; 
 
 cause this passion in my heart to glow. 
 And self to sink in self abasement low : 
 
 1 love thy power and wisdom with delight, 
 
 Thy works and ways, O Lord, are just and right ; 
 
 I long to love thee as the angels do ; 
 
 I love thy nature, and thy justice too -, 
 
 B 2 
 
18 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But O, I do not love thee as I ought, 
 
 Nor ever can I here — sad painful thought t 
 
 But if my powers were equal to my zeal, 
 
 My tongue would speak all that my heart can feel 
 
 Accept my feeble strains, ye saints, and tell 
 
 If I too much on such a theme can dwell ; 
 
 'Twas love that brought the Lord of glory down. 
 
 And thus the riches of his grace made known : 
 
 " O bless the Lord, let all within me join, 
 
 And bless his name whose favours are divine I" 
 
 He grants me blessings suited to my case * 7 
 
 I'm still preserved a monument of grace : 
 
 But whence, my soul, do these affections rise, 
 
 Which seem to soar away beyond the skies ; 
 
 Spring they from self? — I humbly answer, no ! 
 
 In nature's garden no such fruits do grow ; 
 
 The spirit breathes, and through its mighty power. 
 
 Amidst the weeds there springs an humble flower, 
 
 And from that flower rich odours rise to heaven, 
 
 From whence the sacred seed at first was given. 
 
 Grace is the seed, the flower is heavenly love, 
 
 And praise the fragrance that ascends above ; 
 
 The heart's the soil that Jesus tills and sows, 
 
 And love the passion-flower that buds and blows. 
 
 It blooms below — transplanted then on high, 
 
 It ripens fully in eternity : 
 
 O glorious grace ! to thee belongs the praise, 
 
 And glory too, through everlasting days. 
 
 Fourteen long weary years, this tottering frame 
 
 Has languished sore with tedious fits and pain ; 
 
 But the just hand that doth my strength consume,. 
 
 Has the same power to renovate my bloom ; 
 
 Though every med'cine, herb, and mineral fail, 
 
 I'll not despair, for prayer may yet prevail ; 
 
JOY AND GRfEF. M 
 
 And you, my friends, who long have wished my good ? 
 
 Join your requests with mine in prayer to God ; 
 
 To hear his children's prayers he never fails ; 
 
 But O, the prayer of faith alone prevails ; 
 
 And when you do retire for private prayer, 
 
 O think, and bear me on your memory there ; 
 
 " Effectual fervent prayer availeth much/' 
 
 Remember this, and O may ours be such ; 
 
 The time will soon arrive, when we shall meet 
 
 Around the throne, at our ImmanuePs feet. 
 Thou great physician of physicians all, 
 
 Who hast so often healed — once more I call j. 
 
 O deign to listen to a suppliant worm 
 
 Who oft times hath, and now again doth come 
 To cast her worthless body at the pool, 
 
 Where thou hast often cleansed her lep'rous soul : 
 At thy command the waters now shall move. 
 And on my frame their healing virtues prove ; 
 Then will 1 sound thy glorious name abroad, 
 Sinners shall hear, and praise a pardoning God, 
 Thou hast done wonders for me, O my Lord, 
 But still be gracious, and more strength afford ; 
 Too much I've looked to man, with shame, I own, 
 And not enough to sovereign grace alone ; 
 And O, I fear, I have more praise bestowed 
 On mortal skill, than on the power of God j 
 If so, I pray thee, Lord, my sins forgive, 
 And cause my soul in thee to trust and live ; 
 Revive me Lord, and let me hear thy voice, 
 Which kindly speaks, and makes my heart rejoice, 
 Which whispers pardon in my listening ear, * 
 Bids me confide in thee, and not to fear ; 
 Lord I will trust, and through thy grace believe 
 Whate'er I ask in faith, I shall receive ; 
 
 _■ .< 
 
20 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 O heal these wounds, and make distempers flee, 
 Renew my strength — O God I look to thee : 
 Bat if so ordered by thy gracious will, 
 That I endure those pains and feelings still, 
 Thou great refiner — should'st thou so design, 
 In scorching flames, to lengthen out my time, 
 O sanctify the fire, my gracious God, 
 And make me patient while I feel the rod ; 
 Deal gently with me as in years now past, 
 When my disorder raged and bound me fast, 
 When clouds arose, and tempests loudly howl'd, 
 And wave on wave of trouble o'er me roll'd ; 
 Strengthen my soul thy dealings more to trace. 
 And grant a larger portion of thy grace ; 
 Give me some clearer, brighter views of thee, 
 And more of my deficiencies to see ; 
 Enlarge my thoughts, and more expand my heart. 
 More of thy love and holy joys impart ; 
 Inflame my love, my little faith increase, 
 And fill my mind with calm and heavenly peace ; 
 Possessing this, I shall be truly blest, 
 My soul, 'midst storms, will find an ample rest. 
 Support me Lord, as thou hast heretofore, 
 O grant me this, and I desire no more. 
 
 Whate'er, O Lord, thou dost for me ordain, 
 Whether scenes adverse, prosperous, health or pain- 
 Bless every dispensation, dark or bright, 
 And make me see that all thou doest is right. 
 O gracious Spirit come with holy fire, 
 And in my heart create a pure desire : 
 Come condescending Saviour from above, 
 And warm my frozen heart with heavenly love, 
 O let me fee] thy gracious presence now, 
 To cheer me in this wilderness below. 
 
 
JOY AND GRFEF. 21 
 
 Thou once a female's faith regarded much, 
 When she thy garment only, could but touch ; 
 Thy virtue, Lord, at once her sickness cured, 
 And soon, in language sweet, these words she heard — 
 Daughter, take comfort — all thy fears dismiss, 
 Thy faith hath made thee whole — now go in peace. 
 Like that poor trembling female, Lord, would I 
 To thee the great physician now apply ; 
 O let thy healing virtue bring relief, 
 Remove my sorrows, and assuage my grief; 
 O speak the word— thy all commanding voice 
 Can make my poor desponding heart rejoice ; 
 That cheering word, on which my hope relies, 
 Can give new life, and make my joys arise, 
 'Twill cause this painful malady to cease, 
 O speak the word, and bid me go in peace. 
 
 When I look back, with shame, on some past years.. 
 The retrospection drowns my eyes in tears, 
 My guilt returns, and O, a conscious smart 
 Is felt in this vile, base, ungrateful heart. 
 O what kind patience hath the Lord displayed 
 To me, who often from his fold have strayed ; 
 Still left a monument of mercy here, 
 To see the dawning of another year. 
 O wonderous love ! with such a wretch to bear, 
 And still preserve me with parental care : 
 Like a kind shepherd, when I went astray, 
 He turned my feet from off the slippery way, 
 He touched my heart, and gave repentance deep, 
 And I, like Peter, bitterly did weep ; 
 Like Paul, 1 called upon his saving name, 
 When smitten with a sense of guilt and shame 5 
 Like David, when the faithful prophet told 
 To him his guilt, and did the crime unfold, 
 
A MEDLEY OF 
 
 1 wept aloud, his mercy did implore, 
 
 And prayed for grace that I should fall no more. 
 
 How my reflecting thoughts in sadness swell, 
 
 When my weak mind doth on its follies dwell ; 
 
 Ten thousand ways my wandering feet have rov'd. 
 
 In numerous ways I have ungrateful proved ; 
 
 Like Israel, oft my adamantine heart 
 
 Would rise, rebel, and from the Lord depart; 
 
 Such was my state, sometimes my heart would siglr. 
 
 And, like frail Jonah, even wished to die. 
 
 Yes, I repined because a gracious God 
 
 Would often make me feel his chastening rod ; 
 
 But still when 1 review my guilt and shame, 
 
 I know his love is still to me the same ; 
 
 He whom I've griev'd, for such as I hath died. 
 
 To him Pve long with godly sorrow cried : 
 
 So Israel's king forgiveness did obtain, 
 
 And God in mercy gave him peace again ; 
 
 But he who is all holy, just and wise, 
 
 In tender mercy did his soul chastise ; 
 
 And Peter, when his Master did reprove, 
 
 Received forgiveness, and a sense of love ; 
 
 But Peter often met with chastening looks ; — ■ 
 
 Whom Jesus love?, in mercy he rebukes, 
 
 Though he reproved, he sanctified the rod, 
 
 And both the wanderers closer walked with God, 
 
 And since the Lord doth all my sins forgive, 
 
 Like them, to Him, O may I nearer live. 
 
 Now, O my soul, since He doth kindly choose 
 To let thee live and sec the old year close, 
 A new une entered on the ii-st of time, 
 Mark well thy steps, let vigilance be thine ; 
 As constant as the daih" rising sun, 
 Be thou found prostrate at thy father's throne ; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 23 
 
 Like Daniel, morning, evening, night and uoon. 
 O let thy heart with Zion's God commune ; 
 Watch and be prayerful, lest the tempter's art 
 Deceive and make thee act a grievous part ; 
 Look up to God to have thy thoughts controlled, 
 Lean on his arm, and on his strength take hold : 
 To Him devote thy time and talents all, 
 With the warm zeal and spirit of a Paul ; 
 Like him, let true ambition rise to Christ, 
 And daily glorify thy great High Priest. 
 Seek not vain knowledge that will fail and die, 
 But seek that wisdom which is from on high; 
 Be daily taught a task in wisdom's school, 
 The Word of God— be that thy guide and rule ; 
 Like Christ possess a temper meek and mild, 
 In all things imitate that holy child : 
 If thou be spared to dwell still longer here, 
 Be this thy line of conduct through the year ; 
 Walk circumspectly, keep the heavenly way,' 
 No self reproach shall then thy conscience slay, 
 No sting of guilt shall in thy breast be found, 
 To cause thy heart to feel a bleeding wound \ 
 Keep close to Jesus with thy present zeal, 
 And then thy heart no pungent thorn sha'll feel. 
 Give me, O Lord, a larger store of grace, 
 That I may wisely thy blessed footsteps trace, 
 Then, when another annual sun rolls round, ' 
 And I should with the living still be found, ' 
 I'll then adore thy holy name, and give 
 The praise to thee, by whom alone I live. 
 
 Idolatry has been my greatest sin, 
 And given my foolish heart the deepest sting ■ 
 Israel with troubled hearts confessed their crime- 
 And God, in love, forgave them numerous times 
 
24 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Mercy hath torn the idols from my heart, 
 Forgiven my sins, and healed the painful smart. 
 Now will I sing thy mere} 7 , love and grace, 
 And warn idolaters to seek thy face 
 Christians, beware of idols — creature-love 
 Will oft seduce our thoughts from things above ; 
 Of worms not only, we may idols make, 
 But many things of neither form nor shape, 
 Intemperance, pleasure, hatred, lust and pride, 
 Self-will, self-love, and thousand things beside 5 
 All these, and more, may draw away the heart, 
 And hardly leave to God and Christ a part: 
 Beware my soul, O my weak soul, take heed, 
 Lest idols cause thy heart again to bleed. 
 
 TO EDWARD H , AGED THREE YEARS. 
 
 1821. 
 
 Sweet emblem of a lovely flower, 
 Which blooms and withers in an hour ! 
 What wonders I am led to trace 
 In that fair form and beauteous face. 
 
 But I'm delighted more to find 
 Some bless'd traits mark thy infant mind ; 
 Some growing charm each hour I view, 
 Which makes my hopes of thee rise new. 
 
 How would it gratify my mind, 
 Could I thy early steps attend, 
 And teach thy tender thoughts to rise 
 In prayer, and praise, toward the skies. 
 
JOY AND GRIEh 25 
 
 But ah ! dear interesting boy, 
 I'm not to have that sweet employ ; 
 'Twill not, I fear, to me be given, 
 To lead thy infant feet to heaven. 
 
 But O ! for thee my prayers shall rise, 
 For thou art lovely in mine eyes; 
 Dear is thy image to my heart, 
 But dearer thine immortal part. 
 
 Thy soul is precious in my sight, 
 And O ! with what heart-felt delight 
 My thoughts anticipate to see 
 Early, the fruits of grace in thee. 
 
 Thou sweet, engaging, prattling child, 
 O may you grow up meek and mild ; 
 Like Jesus, truth and wisdom learn, 
 And from the way of sinners turn. 
 
 My hopes of thee are high and bright, 
 Thou art thy fond aunt's great delight ; 
 Thy father's hope, thy mother's joy, 
 And once thy grandsire's fav'rite boy. 
 
 But he was snatched from off the stage, 
 Before my Edward was of age 
 To mark the features of his face, 
 Or recollect his last embrace. 
 
 My little nephew, oft did he 
 Caress and dandle on his knee ; 
 While each grandchild his kisses shared, 
 For all he loved, for all he cared ! 
 c 
 
26 A MEDLEY 01 
 
 No more he'll fold thee in his arms, 
 And gaze upon thine infant charms; 
 For he to unknown scenes is gone, 
 And will no- more to earth return. 
 
 May you and 1, dear darling boy, 
 In the eternal world of joy, 
 With him, and all our kindred, meet; 
 To worship at Emmanuel's feet. 
 
 But you must in the world below 
 Love Jesus, and in knowledge grow. 
 Or you will not behold his face, 
 And join to sing redeeming grace. 
 
 Oh should your aunt this world first leave, 
 Edward, this faithful charge receive, 
 And prize it more than glittering gold, 
 Observe it young — obey it old ! 
 
 CHARGE. 
 
 Oh learn to pray, and read God's holy word, 
 For that through life will peace, and joy afford; 
 Repent, fear God, love man, and O hate sin ! 
 And daily strive the heavenly crown to win. 
 
 If I from earth my exit first should make, 
 Accept these lines and keep them for my sake : 
 Let them not stand against you in that day, 
 When God his ire, and favour shall display 
 
JOY AND GTUEi 
 
 LINES 
 
 \ 
 
 » OMPOSED IN A SLEEPLESS HOUR OF NIGHT WHILST REFLECTING ON 
 
 THE MADNESS AND INCONSISTENCY OF ATHEISM. 
 
 December 4Ui, 1814. 
 
 That there's a God all nature's works declare, 
 Mortals look round, and see him every where ; 
 Lift up your eyes and view the scene on high — 
 Behold those splendid orbs that deck the sky— 
 The wond'rous sun, the moon, and starry train, 
 A God of infinite power proclaim. 
 What more the being of a God can prove, 
 Than those great works that shine so bright above 
 Ten thousand beauties on this lower sphere, 
 Confess the hand divine that fixed them here. 
 Go — contemplate the regions of the deep-—* 
 See numerous fishes play, and monsters leap — 
 Behold the tow'ring waves run mountains high- 
 Hear the loud thunders — see the lightnings fly — 
 Observe huge rocks with all their curious store, 
 And view the wonders of the sea bound shore! 
 What, but a wise, Almighty, powerful hand, 
 Could these create, and cause them all to stand 
 So firmly on their base, and thus repel 
 The foaming waves, when raging billows swell ? 
 The lofty mountains and the grove-crowned hills, 
 The pleasant valleys, and the flowing rills, 
 The veins of sapphire, and the golden mine, 
 And the rich beds where precious rubies shine, 
 Declare the power that formed them is divine. 
 
28 . A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Base man i that says all things by chance do come, 
 
 And nature's God with impious lips disown : [clay — 
 
 Your own machines — those strange wrought frames of 
 
 The circling blood, each beating pulse doth say, 
 
 A God ! a God of vast and sovereign power ! 
 
 He made us first, and kept us to this hour. 
 
 That glorious piece of workmanship alone, 
 
 Bespeaks a God, a God to man makes knovvii. 
 
 Even creation's smallest works do prove, 
 
 There doth exist a power supreme above. 
 
 Seal up your lips, }'e atheists of the day 1 
 
 Ye infidels ! who dare so boldly say — 
 
 You'll not believe there doth exist a God, 
 
 And thus attempt to scorn his sacred word; 
 
 Belie not conscience, Oh ye wretched men ! 
 
 You find that voice speak loud enough within: 
 
 Conscience doth smite when you that power deny, 
 
 Your courage fails when you see dangers nigh. 
 
 Volncy — when all around him death stared wide, 
 
 Sprung forward with uplifted hands, and cried, 
 
 " Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu !" his boasted courage felJ ; 
 
 He owned a God when on the brink of Hell. 
 
 When asked, " have you a God?" with weeping eyes. 
 
 The wretched man " Oh yes ! Oh yes !" replies ; 
 
 Confessed a God when death hung o'er his head, 
 
 And the coward threatened with a watery bed : 
 
 Notorious sceptic though by practice he, 
 
 Yet not in principle he lets us see. 
 
 So atheists now believe not as they say 
 
 Although they act the same from day to day, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 29 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 
 June, 1815. 
 
 Night's shades disperse, and day begins to dawn 
 
 Rise now my soul, enjoy the rosy morn. 
 
 Rise from thy couch, and let thine eyes now feast 
 
 On the bright golden chambers of the east. 
 
 Majestic Sol peeps through the cloudless skies, 
 
 And bids the villagers awake and rise, 
 
 And view Jehovah's power, his great display ; 
 
 And hail himself, Imperial King of da} 7 . 
 
 He spreads his beams, and gilds the spacious earth, 
 
 From his high seat relates his wondrous birth ; 
 
 The smiling hills, the groves, and flow'ry vale, 
 
 Listen with rapture to the pleasing tale, 
 
 But man lies slumb'ring on his downy bed, 
 
 Till morning's first, and fairest, charms have fled. 
 
 From thy soft slumbers, lovely Mary,* rise, 
 Come forth, and view the beauties of the skies. 
 Friend of my heart, O let our kindred minds, 
 Contemplate Sol, while he in splendour shines. 
 Behold he mounts his flaming car on high, 
 Swiftly before him, see Aurora fly. 
 AVhile the hours dancing follow in his train, 
 Nor can, nor do they, silently remain. 
 
 Will the fair king in his sweet progress come 
 Uncelebrated with celestial song . p 
 
 1 Mrs. Wilkinson. 
 C 2 
 
 
 
2° A AlEDLElf OF 
 
 No, 'thinks I hear the shining spheres rejoice, 
 Mingling soft notes, in one harmonious voice. 
 Listen, my Mary— hark ! my soul, they sing, 
 Sweet comes the sound on gentle echo's wing, 
 
 I 
 
 Sweet Phcebus we follow, 
 
 And while on our way. 
 
 We hail him great Emperor 3 
 
 Bright King of the day. 
 II. 
 
 We take all our lustre 
 
 From the gold face he wears, 
 
 And borrow our light 
 
 From the glory he bears, 
 ill. 
 
 All happy, all gay, 
 
 We dance in his train ? 
 
 And sing all the day 
 
 In one joyful strain. 
 
 IV. 
 Universal nature 
 All join in the lay, 
 Whilst Ins bright flowing robe 
 Pours around flood of day, 
 
 v. 
 Bright Sol we admire, 
 And shout in his praise, 
 But to his Creator 
 Higher honours we raise. 
 
 Mary— their music fires my soul, the song is infec- 
 tious—my heart is tuned— I catch the theme— join, 
 gentle friend, join in the illustrious work ; unite, Oh ! 
 my soul and all creation join, 
 
JOY AND GRIEK 3i 
 
 Bow with adoration, O Sun, 
 
 And kiss the omnipotent God. 
 
 Thy light into darkness shall turn, 
 
 At his all stupendous nod. . 
 
 The noble great Alpha above, 
 Reflects upon Sol and his train, 
 For He is the light of the Sun, 
 And Jehovah, Jah, is his name. 
 
 1 Am ! is the God of the skies, 
 O, sing ye bright orbs in his praise, 
 His glory excels every one, 
 He shines in eternal full blaze. 
 
 O laud him, sweet Mary, and sing 
 My heart and my soul in his praise, 
 To God, the incomp'rable King, 
 New honours and gratitude raise. 
 
 Yes, Sun — great and lucid as thou art — far greater 
 and more glorious is He, whose almighty fiat called 
 thee into being. — Thou art bright, but infinitely more 
 dazzling and magnificently splendid are thy Creator's 
 glories ! — His beams are insufferably lucent. — Yes ! 
 too radiant to be borne ! Man, in his mortal state, 
 could not see his personal glory and live. We can be- 
 hold the rising and the setting sun without much in- 
 jury to the sight; but when he has entered his zenith, 
 even he becomes too luminous for the naked eye to 
 behold unhurt. 
 
 Christians, by faith, can view the Eternal Sun of 
 Righteousness at a distance ; but with fleshly eyes 
 they could not behold the lustre of his heavenly face, 
 Yet the period wiil come, when his people shall see 
 
32 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 him eye to eye, face to face, and dwell in his august 
 presence ; but their souls will receive new strength 
 and their powers be all invigorated and fitted for the 
 powerful scene. 
 
 If a created body is so transcendantly brilliant 
 think, dear Mary, how inexpressibly and inconceiva- 
 bly more drastic must his refulgence be, who formed 
 that great luminary ! If the work of the potter's hand 
 reflects such overpowering brightness, 'tis no wonder, 
 if a sight of-his own glorious person should overwhelm 
 the creature, in his present state of mortality. 
 
 Let us learn a lesson, my friend, from that radiant 
 orb. Thus spake an almighty voice : « I have made 
 thee to rule the day." How obedient to his Maker's 
 mandate has he from that moment proved ; and how 
 unwearied in his works ! Let us do, and be so like- 
 wise. When the gentle whispers of an almighty voice 
 bid us be vigilant on our way, and remind us of duty 
 let us hasten to obey ; and let us follow the course he 
 has marked out for us, without being faint or weary. 
 We see how regular the sun performs his appointed 
 revolutions, and how stable he is in the execution of 
 his diurnal journeys :— let us, my Mary, as firmly, and 
 as steadily, endeavour to fulfil the duties of the day 
 and the work allotted us to do, whilst our habitation' 
 is among the living. 
 
 How cheerful the sun begins his day's round, and 
 how calm and peaceful he goes to rest.— So the 
 Christian, when rightly exercised, with gladness com- 
 mences the duty of the day; and when he retires to 
 rest, reposes with a peaceful and quiet conscience. 
 
 But list !— what sounds are those I hear ? O ! it is 
 the cheerful birds from the neighbouring grove, pour- 
 ing forth their softest notes, in their Creator's praise; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. ■ ft 
 
 — how very melodious ! Dear feathered choristers, 
 warhle away — cease not to raise your notes on high, 
 How innocently and how happily they sing ! Alas ! 
 how unlike them are we : our best thoughts and 
 praises are impure; and our warmest songs, by reason 
 of sin, are accompanied with a sigh ! But — blissful 
 thought — the period will come, my Mary, when we 
 shall sing, with even more purity and uninterrupted 
 felicity, than these beauteous songsters. A nobler 
 subject, a higher theme we shall sing, if it should be 
 our ineffable happiness to obtain an inheritance among , 
 the blessed. Redeeming grace, and eternal love, shall 
 be our glorious song — and our tongues shall never 
 cease. Auspicious day ! w^ould that it had already 
 commenced ; — the vital sparks now are kindled in 
 our breasts ; but here, alas ! we scarcely breathe our 
 notes — our songs are formal — we toil, and heave, and 
 strive to rise, but all in vain ; praises languish on our 
 tongues ; devotion becomes feeble, and we faint. But 
 O ! in eternity our songs and joys shall rise immea- 
 surably high ! Hosannas shall dwell for ever on our 
 tongues, and a never dying flame in our souls ! 
 
 What sweet harmony this little tribe appear to dwell 
 in. — How lamentable that professors of religion do 
 not live in sweeter concord — how divided in opinion, 
 and how disunited are they. But — sweet, solacing 
 thought — we know the time is approaching, when 
 Christians shall all be of one sentiment, and dwell in 
 happy accordance. These joyous things will begin 
 below, arid be perfected above. Yes, in heaven, 
 where the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, there shall 
 be no division, nor disagreement — all, both saints and 
 angels, shall be of one heart, one tongue, and one 
 
34 A r>]£DLE¥ OF 
 
 soul : there will be only one diflerencc-the saint, 
 will sing a theme that angels never can join in. 
 
 -Hut angels will not contend-for as thevhave never 
 sinned, they cannot be interested in the 'song of re* 
 deeming grace any further than as it redounds to the 
 glory and honour of God^but they desire to look 
 into these things, and will, unquestionably, praise and 
 adore the Everlasting Jehovah for his great mercy 
 and condescension m so miraculously saving an in- 
 numerable company of fallen beings. While the 
 saints sing, - Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and 
 Hath washed and redeemed us by his blood '"—the 
 angels will love and admire with an ardency unutter- 
 able, and add a fervent— Amen. 
 
 But come, dear friend of my bosom, the late hour 
 calls us home-let us return. O may the sublime 
 scene we have been viewing, and the harmonious 
 strains we have listened to, not be unprofitable to our 
 souls: may they lead us to meditate much on the glories 
 and perfections of that Sun, whose superlative beau- 
 ties are for the present veiled from our sight; but 
 which we hope and trust to see unveiled in the super- 
 nal world. Here, we behold only by the eye of faith 
 and get but languid glimpses from his lofty throne— 
 out there,— should it be our happiness to dwell,— our 
 eyes shall see him in his meridian splendour' We 
 shall see him as he is— and know him, as he is known 
 ot them who now surround his illustrious person cry- 
 ing, " Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty, which 
 was and is, and art to come." Our ravished souls 
 shall for ever gaze, and live upon the sight ! Oh let 
 us be more zealous, for the cause and glory of this 
 most transcendant Being. Mav we be jealous for his 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 
 
 honour — devote the remnant of our days to his praise 
 —have an eye single to his glory — and when we make 
 our exit from the great theatre of life, leave behind 
 us a good testimony of our being the true servants of 
 the living God. Amen and Amen. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN MR. MELMOTH AND HIS 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 1811. 
 
 Louisa, Hark ! methought I heard some one 
 groan — I do, and the sounds proceed from my fa- 
 ther's dormitory — alas ! unfortunate man, his heart is 
 breaking under the pressure of the times — the sunshine 
 of prosperity smilea no longer over his head. Oh, 
 my parent ! thou art indeed brought into tribulation ; 
 great is thy trouble, Oh ! son of adversity, and child of 
 vicissitude ! but why do I not repair to his room, and 
 try to speak a word of condolence ? I may perhaps 
 be able through divine assistance to sooth and mol- 
 lify his sorrows — my father's sorrows are my sorrows, 
 and his joys are my joys : I will go and see if I can be 
 a comfort to him in his distress. Weep, Oh my soul, 
 with those that weep, and rejoice with those that re- 
 joice ! It is I that knocks, my dearest father ; will 
 you not admit your Louisa ? 
 
 Melmoth. Yes, come in, my dear ; but what 
 brings you hither at this season of the night ? 
 
 Louisa. Your deep sighs and loud groans con- 
 strained me to rise, and beg admittance to your room ; 
 I heard from my chamber how restless you were, and 
 am come to endeavour to soften your grief. You 
 look mournfully on me, my father — but I need not 
 
36 A M&DLEY OF 
 
 ask, " why is your countenance sad ?" — The cause 
 has already deeply penetrated the heart of your child. 
 Oh, sir, my bosom bleeds for your misfortunes, and 
 doubly so for the painful wound you have received in 
 a more tender point : every feeling of my mind is 
 alive to your troubles. 
 
 Melmoth. Yes, my dear child, I know you reci- 
 procate my feelings ; this nocturnal visit evinces to 
 me your concern for my happiness, and sympathy for 
 my situation, and I feel sensible of your filial affec- 
 tion : but oh ! you know not half the sad variety that 
 passes this breast, my daughter ! my heart is almost 
 broken, one wound more would snap the brittle cords, 
 another blast from the raging storm would finish the 
 stroke — 1 have long drunk deep into the bitter cup, 
 and now I am swallowing its dregs. Oh, my Louisa! 
 1 am a stranger tfl God, and a stranger to peace. 
 
 Louisa. Be comforted and encouraged, my dear 
 father ; though your enemies hope to triumph over 
 you, be assured, they will in the end, be defeated — 
 their devices will not prosper. 
 
 Melmoth. Ah t my child \ my foes have, I fear, 
 already blasted my reputation ; they have circulated 
 a false report concerning me, and as falsehoods gene- 
 rally do, it has spread abroad, rapid as the flames in 
 a high wind : and alas ! my honour is injured for ever 
 in the eye of the world. Oh ! my child, my dear 
 Louisa ! I am not myself — I am all unnerved — there 
 is no strength in my bones ; both my frame, and my 
 mind, are completely invalidated. Misfortunes, and 
 my inability to discharge my debts, sufficiently bow 
 down my spirit — but, to be injured in so nice a point 
 as my honour, is a blow greater than I can sustain. 
 Alas ! alas ! I am hedged in on all sides — troubles 
 
JOY AND GRIEt . 37 
 
 like a mighty flood compass me about. Some who 
 ought to be my greatest comfort, help, and support in 
 the hour of calamity, cruelly add to my affliction, and 
 prove thorns in my side — and others who should be 
 tender of my feelings, and participate in my Woes, 
 are guilty of follies that harrow up my soul. These 
 tilings add to my trials, and increase my sufferings, 
 and make me say and do what I would not. When 
 I lie down, I wish I may never rise to see the dawn of 
 another day ; sleep lias long fled my pillow — when I 
 arise and see the light, then I wish to flee and hide me 
 iii some wild desert, away from every mortal eye, far 
 from the sound of human voice ; I am sick of the 
 world, tired of life, and loathe my soul — I seek for 
 death but find it not — I seek it sorrowing — and, Oh 
 my daughter ! I confess to you, sometimes s*eek it sin- 
 fully— I am often tempted to rashness, but mercy holds 
 my hand— this room, the past night, bore witness to 
 my agonies, and guilt ; Oh my child ! your frenzied 
 father seized the opiate, and rashly put it to his mouth, 
 but a propitious power drew back the cup and stayed 
 the poison, while a loud voice whispered within, 
 " thou canst not give life. Oh sinner ! and thou hast 
 no right to take it." I dashed the fatal dose away, 
 threw myself on the bed again, and groaned aloud,' 
 " Oh that I had never been born ! Oh that I had 
 never seen the light!" and with a heart swelling still 
 bigger with wo, and a mind fraught with greater ter- 
 ror, I passed the night. 
 
 Louisa. My father ! what do I hear ? Oh ! thou 
 hearer of prayer, and thou great preserver of man, 
 what shall I answer to this gracious interposition ? 
 How shall I sufficiently thank thee for this unspeak- 
 ably great deliverance from death and destruction, 
 
 D 
 
38 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 and thy wondrous condescension to regard the poor 
 petitions of the humble suppliant in the silent shades 
 of the past night, for her distracted and misguided 
 parent. Oh my father, what a merciful providence, 
 thus to interfere, and pluck you from that dark abyss, 
 that gulf of endless ruin and misery, on the brink of 
 which you stood, and into which your rashness had 
 nearly plunged you. Now, my dear sir, allow me to 
 tell you of the goodness of that being into whose pre- 
 sence you were so eager to rush with all your guilt upon 
 you. Know then, that your child spent half the night 
 supplicating at the throne of God, that you may be kept 
 from that awful temptation. I watched your every 
 moment the day before, marked particularly every 
 sentence from your lips, observed your countenance, 
 and noticed well the state of your mind — from this, 
 and the conversation I had at intervals with you, I 
 plainly discovered the operations of your mind, and 
 felt convinced, that, if the risings of your grief did 
 not abate before evening, you might be exposed to the 
 most imminent danger — evening appeared, your sor- 
 rows were not lessened, and my heart trembled for 
 you, for I ceased to have any influence over^you, and 
 retired, but not to sleep — no, but to pray, keep watch, 
 and listen— and truly, my father, I did wrestle hard 
 with the great " strength of Israel" that he would by 
 his mighty power keep you from that crime, which I 
 was afraid you might in a rash moment be tempted 
 to perpetrate. From my chamber I heard you sigh, 
 groan, beat your breast, pace the room, fling yourself 
 on the bed, sometimes call upon God, at other times, 
 ventyour feelings in language the most awful, bitter and 
 touching. My anxiety, fears, distress and terror, were 
 past description. One moment I was at your door 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 3i> 
 
 io listen, the next on my knees at prayer, then retnrn- 
 ed to my room, trembling with fear and cold, but the 
 Lord supported me through it all ; my hope, comfort, 
 and courage, were alone in that divine Being, who is 
 kind, merciful, arid just — and who heareth the cries of 
 the distressed, when they put their trust in him : and 
 surely, my father, I may now say, the Lord is a 
 prayer hearing and prayer answering God — Behold ! 
 I came off last night a " prevailing Israel,'' another 
 token of God's favour to me a sinful worm. — Let me 
 for ever erect mine Ebenezers, for the Lord hath heard 
 and helped me in all my troubles — unto his name, 
 be everlasting praise — Oh ! that this new instance of 
 his goodness might be marked by both of us, his un- 
 worthy servants, and indelible gratitude be riveted on 
 our hearts. 
 
 Melmoth. I blush and am confounded, my Louisa, 
 at my baseness and daring attempt — and am over- 
 whelmed with shame, and grief, at the goodness of 
 heaven, in giving me a praying child, and one who 
 cap in a measure enter into the feelings of her wretch- 
 ed and impetuous father, and who forsakes him not 
 in the day of adversity — the stings of conscience 
 pierce deep within, for my presumption and vile in- 
 gratitude ; yet my dear girl, could you feel in the full, 
 as well as know, the anguish of this bleeding heart, 
 could you know the extent of my sorrows, you would 
 pity, yes, I am sure you would pity, and weep for my 
 extremities. The billows roll on every side, my 
 thoughts trouble me, and my heart is in a great strait ; 
 Oh what shall 1 do ! where hide my head from the 
 tempestuous winds ? where shall this poor bark find 
 a haven ? 
 
40 A iMEDLEY OF 
 
 Louisa. In the bosom of the Redeemer, my father ; 
 there only is refuge for the troubled breast — there 
 only, the weary can find repose, in the world it is not 
 to be obtained — the things of sense and time can af- 
 ford no true relief under afflictions and difficulties. 
 Flee ! flee to Christ, the sinner's friend, and seek hap- 
 piness and rest in him. 
 
 Melmoth, Ah ! talk not so, Louisa, my mind is too 
 distracted to think of flying there for shelter — I can- 
 not, no, I cannot meditate on serious things now — my 
 brain is too wild, and my thoughts too' roving — how 
 wretched ! Oh ! how wretched am I ! 
 
 Louisa, Your situation, my beloved sire, is indeed 
 distressing and deeply affecting : but hearken to me, 
 dear sir — there is a remedy for every case however 
 desperate — you say, " I cannot bear serious things 
 now'' — but this is the most seasonable time to have 
 the " Balm of Gilead'' administered; in tribulation 
 it is most needed — ointment is good for the healing 
 of wounds, and now is the time for applying it, while 
 they are open and sore — The voice of religion is the 
 best soother under pain ; nothing will soften the heart, 
 and quell the passions, so soon and so effectually 
 as serious reflection, and sober thoughts of the mer- 
 cies, goodness, patience, forbearance, and long suffer- 
 ing of God in his dealings with us, and a right view 
 of his just judgments — reflections of this kind are cal- 
 culated at once to still our murmu rings ; whereas, 
 the indulgence of sinful, distracting thoughts, and rash 
 expressions, tends only to enhance both our guilt and 
 misery. 
 
 Melmoth. I doubt not, my dear, but you are right 
 in your views of these things as far as you have ex- 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 41 
 
 perienced them — but you have never been placed in a 
 situation so critical and aggravating as mine, and 
 therefore cannot tell how impossible it is to bring the 
 mind into proper subjection ; nothing but experience 
 can teach us " to feel another's woes." 
 
 Louisa. You doubly pain me, my honoured father, 
 by supposing roe incapable of entering fully into your 
 feelings : you forget how much I love you, and what 
 deep waters I have waded through, and that I am no 
 stranger to the inclemencies of this boisterous life — 
 but my strong alTeciion for you excites a lively inte- 
 rest, and exquisite sensibility of soul, which could not 
 be felt by the stoic — or the lukewarm feelings, even 
 of a child. Believe me, I do most sensibly feel for 
 you ; the inmost recesses of my heart are open to your 
 sufferings — and Oh ! could the sympathy of a fellow 
 mortal heal the wounds in your lacerated breast, then 
 should my dearest father find relief from the com- 
 passion of his child's bleeding bosom — but Oh ! lis- 
 ten, my unhappy father — let me entreat you to be 
 composed, and favour me with your attention for a 
 while. You will, yes, I see you will — permit me then 
 to speak, my dear, dear sir ; none but the blessed Sa- 
 viour, the Son of God, can heal the maladies of a 
 wounded spirit. 
 
 Melmoth. Speak on, speak on, my child; you have 
 already smoothed my brow and melted me down; my 
 heart sinks within me, the Lion has become a Lamb; 
 say what you please, do as you please, the commo- 
 tions of my mind are still, the ragings of thought are 
 becalmed, nnd the wretched Melmoth will now be all 
 attention to the mild, soothing, and good counsel of 
 his anxious daughter. 
 
 D 2 
 
42 A MEDLKY OF 
 
 Louisa. I thank you for the indulgence, my kind 
 and beloved sire, for I feel constrained to speak in 
 the fulness of my heart. Permit me to remind you, 
 how God was pleased in former years to bless you 
 with great prosperity. It may be said, you " nourished 
 like a green bay tree ;" but pardonme, if I bring to 
 recollection your forget fulness of the hand that spread 
 your board, and caused your bloom to continue amidst 
 devouring pestilence ; while you lived a life, careless 
 and thoughtless of God, and of a future state — of late 
 years, God has reversed the scene; he has caused the 
 bitter waters to overflow, he has sent troubles, nume- 
 rous and complicated, he has tried you both with 
 prosperity and adversity — and though you are much 
 enlightened with regard to the things of Christ, to 
 what you formerly were, still, still you keep back 
 your heart from your God, whose command is, " my 
 son give me thine heart;" you are a stranger to god- 
 liness, and keep aloof from him ; you neither obey his 
 gospel, nor keep his commandments ; and however 
 moral your principles may be, the Lord will for all 
 these things, punish and visit you with righteous judg- 
 ments. If you but rightly reflect, my dear father, I 
 feel persuaded that you will confess God is just in his 
 dispensations, and you justly corrected. 'Tis not my 
 intention to enlarge the wound already deep — no, my 
 afflicted father ! Heaven forbid ! I only wish to con- 
 vince you of this truth, that sin is the great cause 
 whence all suffering and trouble proceed, and to di- 
 rect your views to the blood of the Lamb of God, 
 winch speaketh peace and pardon to the penitent. 
 Forgive me, my honoured father, but this is a mat- 
 er of the greatest moment, the most important of all 
 
JOY AND GRIfct 43 
 
 concerns ; on no other occasion would I use such free- 
 dom, and take upon myself thus to talk to a parent — 
 love for your precious soul constrains me, and duty 
 prompts me to exertion, and wo be unto me if I 
 be not faithful to your immortal part — your blood 
 -hall rest on my head, if I forbear to declare unto you 
 what the Lord has imparted unto me. Thus saith 
 the Lord, the Holy One of Israel, " My son give 
 me thine heart ; 5 ' but you have turned a deaf ear, and 
 have not obeyed — still the Lord repeats his request — 
 again and again, by his word and by his Spirit, hath 
 he in times past wooed you to his arms ; you made 
 him many promises, but alas ! you neglected to per- 
 form them, and for this cause he has visited you with 
 a rod,^lmote you with sore trouble, as he did the Is- 
 raelites under their repeated rebellions, and hath per- 
 mitted your enemies to rise up and calumniate you, 
 and hath forsaken you amidst distress. " The Lord 
 will not suffer the soul of the righteous to famish, but 
 he casteth away the substance of the wicked.'' " Be- 
 cause," thus saith the Lord, " I have called and ye 
 have r o fused, I have stretched out my hand and ye 
 have not regarded, but ye have set at nought all my 
 counsel, and would none of my reproof, I also will 
 laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear 
 cometh, for that ye have hated knowledge, and did 
 not choose the fear of the Lord, therefore shall ye eat 
 of the fruit of your own ways, and be filled with your 
 * own devices." And thus, my dear father, you now 
 find it, as God declareth : when storms gather, and 
 tempests roar ; when the thunder rolls over your head, 
 and distress and anguish seize your mind, God as it 
 were laughs and will not appear for your deliverance. 
 Oh, sir ! how lamentable that you should have so 
 
44 A MEDLEY/ OF 
 
 neglected your salvation, aud tiieinvitations of Christ, 
 and by refusing the counsel of the Most High, have 
 now no hope beyond the grave, no comfort, no sup- 
 port, and no God to look up to in time of need. But 
 1 see, my dear father, you are open to conviction ; 
 your countenance is the index of your thoughts ; I 
 read there the workings of your mind, and partly 
 know what you would say — let conscience, that faith- 
 ful monitor, do its office ; speak, my father, and tell 
 me all your feelings. 
 
 Melmoth. You judge rightly, my child, you have 
 convinced me that I have lived like a madman ; I am 
 now truly sensible of my sinful neglect of salvation, 
 and my duty to God. Oh ! how have I sinned against 
 a merciful and righteous judge, and grieved h# holy 
 Spirit. God has with patience and long suffering 
 borne with my rebellion?, and now I am justly dealt 
 with for my perverseness. How many, many warn- 
 ings have I had, how many calls from the Almighty ! 
 but I have hardened my heart, and stiffened my neck, 
 and refused to wear his easy yoke. Oh, my children ! 
 take warning from me, and while in vouth enlist mi- 
 der his banner at an early age, and be obedient to his 
 heavenly command ; and when you are old he will 
 not forsake you — I am constrained to exclaim, nearly 
 as Woolsey did of the king, " had I served my God 
 with half the zeal" that I have attended to worldly 
 concerns, he would not now have left me without hope, 
 without support ! Ah Louisa ! had T made good my 
 promises to the Lord, and walked in the paths of the 
 just, I might have escaped many evils, or, at least, 
 should have been sustained under their pressure. But 
 now, alas ! he mocketh my fear, and turneth from my 
 roarings, leaves me without hope, and with a fearful 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 45 
 
 Opting for of judgment. Oh ! that J had been wise, 
 thai I had hearkened to his reproof, and received his 
 counsel, then should I have been upheld, and comfort- 
 ed in this my day of sorrow. Whither ! O whither 
 shall I go to find peace ; to what refuge shall a sinner 
 resort ! — I shall now go down to the grave sorrowing, 
 for there is none to pity, none to comfort, none to save 
 me, since he whom I have often offended, frowns with 
 indignation upon me. Oh, my dear child ! you have 
 hitherto been a blessing and a solace to me, but now 
 no more — my spirit is too deeply wounded to be cured ; 
 my heart is now breaking because of mine iniquity — 
 the Almighty has forsaken, and left me with a malady 
 which none but himself can heal, but I dare not hope ; 
 [ have sinned against great light and knowledge, and, 
 in the day of judgment, it will be better for those who 
 have never heard of the existence of a God than for 
 wretched me : Oh, what shall I do ! whither shall I 
 flee, to hide from the wrath of God ? 
 
 Louisa. Oh ! my beloved sire, the Almighty has 
 indeed shot at you with his arrows, and they stick fast 
 in your heart ; I grieve to see the anguish of your soul ; 
 but a secret pleasure steals through my breast to see 
 you so deeply affected with a sense of your own guilt. 
 Suffer me to speak once more, for the Lord may yet 
 make me a blessing to you ; nothing is impossible 
 with him. Permit me then to ask, do you sensibly 
 feel that you are a sinner ? And do your iniquities 
 cause the increased agonies of your mind? Are you 
 acquainted with the plague of your own heart? And 
 do you really begin to find your need of a Saviour ? Is 
 it the temporal misery of your present situation, and the 
 dark prospect before you in this life, that cause you 
 to groan; or do these bitter lamentations proceed from 
 
* A MEDLEY OF 
 
 a true sense of your awful state as a sinner, by nature 
 and by practice ? Do you indeed feel godly sorrow, 
 and bewail your disobedience to God f If so, then 
 hearken to me, my father, the Lord of Hosts, the 
 Holy One of Israel, speaks to you from his sacred 
 word, and take heed that you do not at thi9 time turn 
 a deaf ear, lest you provoke him to lift his hand, and 
 swear in his wrath, that vou shall not enter into his 
 rest; listen now, sir, and believe, for it may be the 
 last warning you may have. Thus saith an indulgent 
 and merciful Creator, " Turn ye even unto me with 
 all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and 
 with mourning, and rend your heart, and not your 
 garments, and turn unto the Lord your God, for he 
 is gracious and merciful, slow 1 to anger, and of great 
 kindness 1 ' — " Seek ye me, and ye shall live" — again 
 he saith " come now let us reason together : though 
 your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow • 
 though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool : 
 if ye be willing and obedient ye shall eat the good of 
 the land." Take encouragement, my dear sir, from 
 these gracious promises; for though God is provoked 
 with your sins, yet he is merciful and compassionate, 
 and if you repent, and turn to him with all your heart 
 and soul, he will put away his anger, and blot out 
 your iniquities, and will remember your transgres- 
 sions no more; this is the language of an offended 
 God. Oh ! be careful you do not again slight his 
 heavenly overtures, see that you refuse not to obey the 
 voice of the Almighty, 
 
 Melmoih. These blessed promises, my daughter, 
 are new to my ear, though I have heard them before; 
 can such a wretch as I lind favour £ dare I hope that 
 those promises are spoken to me, who have hereto- 
 
.JOY AND (iRiEK 4; 
 
 lore neglected so great salvation, and been careless 
 of the counsel of God, and the admonitions of his 
 faithful ambassadors ? 
 
 Louisa. Yes sir, there is hope for you if yoa 
 desire an interest in Christ; even the vilest of sinners 
 may return ; a broken heart and a contrite spirit is all 
 that God requireth : " a bruised reed will he not break, 
 and the smoking flax he will not quench." It is 
 written that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from 
 all sin, so none need despair. " Come unto me ail ye 
 that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest ;" these are the gracious words of Christ ; go unto 
 him, my father, and cast yourself at his feet; rest as- 
 sured he will in no wise cast you out, if you are sin- 
 cere. I remember a few years ago the Lord w»s 
 striving with you, and your passions were wrought 
 upon, and for a season you ran well, but the cares ci 
 this world choked the word, and you became unfruit- 
 ful : when afflictions and persecutions pressed on you, 
 you went back and became more careless of a future 
 state than before; but now, my dear sir, take no re- 
 pose until you become savingly acquainted with the 
 Lord. Wrestle hard with the God of Jacob until 
 you prevail ; let him not go except he bless you ; be 
 not daunted at the view of your guilt ; how enormous 
 soever the load may appear to your enlightened 
 eyes, the heavenly blood is sufficiently efficacious to 
 purify the foulest stains. Resort unto that glorious 
 Saviour who is willing and able to save to the utter- 
 most—Behold he stands with open arms knocking for 
 admittance at the door of your heart, will you not 
 open it, and let the blessed Saviour in— he is the oniv 
 friend of sinners, the only remedy for the sin sick 
 soul— flee, flee with all your sins to Christ ; " now is 
 the accepted time ;" love him and you will find in him 
 
iS A MEDLEY OF 
 
 " a friend thalsticketh closer than a brother." If, my 
 dear father, you give yourself to God, he will protect 
 you in the day of trouble, strengthen you to face a 
 frowning world and smile on the rage of his enemies ; 
 he will hide you in his bosom till the tempest be over- 
 past. He will suffer no weapon that is formed against 
 you to prosper, no temptation to overcome you, nor 
 any trial to sink you. Oh sir ! you little know 
 the value of true religion, what solid joy and comfort 
 it yields ; comforts which the world can neither give 
 nor take away — make the experiment and you will 
 then find its blessedness. You weep, my dearest fa- 
 ther, would to God those tears may indeed prove 
 drops of godly sorrow. I cannot but hope they are 
 so, and my own heart weeps with joy at the anticipa- 
 tion of seeing you ere long both a happy man and a 
 Christian. Here, my father, is a blessed volume; it is 
 the word of God ; will you accept it, and gratify your 
 anxious child by reading it? I have turned down a 
 few pages for your perusal, which I think are best 
 calculated to encourage you and to lead you to the 
 fountain, whose efficacious waters, alone, can heal the 
 disease of your mind. And now, my beloved father, 
 I will retire, and leave you to your meditations- 
 Dearest sir, good night, may the Lord be with you — 
 and add a blessing to the poor attempts of his un- 
 worthy child, to sooth and comfort you. 
 
 MEDITATION ON THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER OF JOHN. 
 
 Greenwich, 1817. 
 
 " Let not your heart be troubled." These were 
 the kind words of the gracious Redeemer, address- 
 
.I0¥ AND GRIEF. 49 
 
 ed to his disciples not long before his crucifixion. 
 It is, as if he had said, * Be not over-anxious about 
 my departure, and your own consequent loss — 
 neither be concerned about your present or your 
 eternal welfare. Be assured your eternal happiriess 
 is safe ; my death will secure your title to heaven, 
 and my blood shall seal the covenant which was 
 made from the beginning of the world — and though 
 1 must soon be severed from you, yet be not griev- 
 ed, for the Father will send you another comforter 
 to cheer you through this unfriendly world. " If 
 ye believe in God, believe also in me.'' Blessed 
 Jesus! I think I comprehend the meaning. If ye 
 believe in God, trust in me, and I will impart conso- 
 lation that ye may goon your journey without dis- 
 may. Yea, confide in me, for I proceed from the 
 Father, and am the Son of God. " Believe in me," 
 for I am from heaven and will speak the truth ; if ye 
 believe it, ye shall find rest to your souls. " In my 
 Father's house are many mansions." Delightful 
 thought ! for there is an innumerable company of 
 ransomed souls to fill them ; the seed of Abraham is, 
 as the stars of Heaven for multitude. How comfort- 
 ing to the household of faith to know that such am- 
 ple provision is made ! " If it were not so, I would 
 have told you." 
 
 Mighty Jesus ! thou would'st not allow thy brethren 
 to be deceived — no, were it not so, thou would'st have 
 informed us, that our hopes might not be disap- 
 pointed. 4 
 
 Oh ! my soul, behold the unparalleled goodness of 
 
 the Lord ; Jesus would not have buoyed thee up with 
 
 hope, and then have allowed thee to sink in despair. 
 
 If it were not so, he would have told thee. The God 
 
 E 
 
aU A MtiDLKY Of 
 
 in whom you trust is tlie only true and living GocL 
 He cannot use deception. He is a being, kind, faith- 
 ful, immutable, holy, and just; he cannot change his 
 mind. If you trust in this God, confide also in me, 
 ibr I am the Son of God, and the Father and the Son 
 are one. Yes, gracious God, we, who are thy ser- 
 vants, do indeed believe, and trust in thee ; for we are 
 persuaded that thou art able to keep that which we 
 have committed to thy care. We know in whom we 
 have believed, and are not afraid that thou wilt not 
 accomplish thy promises ; for we are sensible that in 
 thee " there is no guile ;" and we believe that thou art 
 God manifested in the flesh ; that the kingdom, power, 
 honour, and glory are thine. " I go to prepare a 
 place for you." Amazing condescension! Jesus has 
 purchased an eternal inheritance with his own precious 
 blood ; and now he is gone to prepare a glorious 
 mansion in the new Jerusalem, for each of the heirs 
 of Salvation ; to lay up for them, what eye hath not 
 seen, ear hath not heard, nor heart of man conceived. 
 " And if I go, and prepare a place for you, I will 
 come again and take you to myself, that where I am, 
 there you may be also," said the same heavenly voice. 
 What comforting words to the believer's heart ! Oh ! 
 my soul, how animating are they under pain and af- 
 fliction ! how consoling to think that thou shalt not 
 always reside in this vale of tears .! Thy Saviour has 
 promised to take thee from this mortal state, to dwell 
 with him in regions of immortality where sin is not 
 known. Compassionate Redeemer I methinks I hear 
 thee saying, " Brethren, be not sorrowful because I 
 leave you ; it is necessary that I should go to appear 
 as your friend and advocate on high, that through 
 my intercession, you may receive the blessing from 
 
JOY AND GRILI 51 
 
 ilie Father, even the Comforter, who will teach you 
 all things, and supply my place. Be of good cheer ; 
 though I leave you for a while, I will return and take 
 you up to Heaven, that you may see the glory which 
 i had with the Father before the world was." Blessed 
 promise ! we are confident that we shall see it verifi- 
 ed ; for Jesus is not a man that he should lie, neither 
 will the God who sent him with such glad tidings, 
 utter falsehoods. Yes, highly exalted friend ! we do 
 live in the full hope of seeing thee face to face, as one 
 man beholdeth another. The Father hath given us 
 into thy hands, and none shall be able to pluck us out 
 of them — whom thou callest thou dost uphold, and 
 preserve in safety, even to the end. " And whither I 
 go ye know, and the way ye know.'- Yes, thou great 
 leader, we do know the way, for thou hast guided us 
 therein, thou hast made us acquainted with the way 
 and the life, and with the rewards of obedience and 
 disobedience. By the blessed example which thou 
 didst give when on earth, thou didst point out the road, 
 and wo be unto us, if we follow not thy footsteps. 
 What debtors we are to thy sovereign grace ! we de- 
 rive all our knowledge from it. By nature we are 
 blind, senseless, and dumb ; no light springs up in our 
 dark minds, but what originates with grace, nor do 
 we possess a good thought, of which grace is not the 
 author. Blessed Redeemer ! we know the way — but 
 alas ! we are often benighted, and lose sight of our 
 heavenly guide ; we need thy instruction continually, 
 and thy holy Spirit to direct our steps ; for like wan- 
 dering sheep, we often ramble far from the fold, and 
 without the shepherd's watchful care, should perish in 
 the wilderness— lead our roving feet* Oh ! Shepherd 
 of Israel, to the green pastures where thy flock re- 
 
*2 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 pose ; safely conduct us across the flood of Jordan., 
 to Canaan's happy land, where there are no false 
 pleasures to lead us astray, and no temptations to dis- 
 turb our peace. "If ye shall ask any thing in my 
 name I will do it." Powerful stimulus to make us 
 resort to a throne of grace, and ask for mercy. Com- 
 forting promise ! if we ask in the name of Jesus, we 
 shall receive — who would refrain from asking ? who 
 will doubt the truth of this promise of the Lord ? ne- 
 ver my soul, through unbelief, delay to ask in Christ's 
 prevailing name ; if thou desirest a thing, and believ- 
 est it consistent with the divine will to grant it, go to 
 a mercy seat without doubting, and there make known 
 the desire of thy heart, with full assurance that what- 
 ever is asked in faith shall be granted. " If ye love 
 me, keep my commandments.'' If we love thee sin- 
 cerely, thou great lawgiver, we shall be obedient to 
 thy heavenly mandates. 
 
 Thou art our elder Brother, and thou doest all 
 things well for us ; if an earthly brother provide for 
 us, protect us, and affectionately guard us from dan- 
 ger, we love him and have a sense of our duty to him ; 
 shall we not obey him, shall we not feel pleasure in 
 serving him, and rendering him every grateful atten- 
 tion in our power ? will not our hearts rejoice to 
 please him, and shall we not do every thing to pro- 
 mote his interest and honour in the world ? How 
 much more then, ought we to be obedient to thy will, 
 Oh! our Saviour, who art not only our Brother, but 
 our best Friend, our Father, and our Redeemer ; thou 
 art he who hath done for us more than father, or mo- 
 ther, husband, wife, brother, sister, friend, or kindred. 
 Lord, enable me to obey thy great commands, and 
 by this I shall know, that I love my heavenly Bro- 
 
% JOV AND GRIEF 53 
 
 ther. " And I will pray the Father, and he shall give 
 you another Comforter, that he may abide with you 
 for ever.'* Sweet consolation, to know that we have 
 a friend above, who takes so deep an interest in our 
 welfare ! How richly do we experience the benefit 
 of his prayers, for the Holy Spirit is given in abund- 
 ant measure, and the heart-cheering promise is, that 
 he shall abide with us for ever. Our Lord has with- 
 drawn his bodily presence, but blessed be his name, 
 he hath, according to his words, sent another to 
 comfort us, and to help our infirmities, even the 
 Spirit of truth, which " witnesseth with our spirit, 
 that we are the children of God." How bountifully 
 does our great Mediator provide for his redeemed! 
 None but those who have tasted his love, know any 
 thing of the consolations of the Holy Ghost, and 
 his blessed influence on the heart — he will not dwell 
 in the soul where Jesus does not reign ; the carnal 
 heart knows nothing of his powers, his animating rays, 
 and his consoling qualities : but the children of God 
 are supported, comforted, and guided by him. Hap- 
 py are ye who love the Lord, who walk in his pre- 
 cepts, and have his Holy Spirit for your guide. " I 
 will not leave you comfortless ; I will come to you." 
 Oh ! my soul, thou canst indeed acknowledge the 
 truth ol^ this precious promise ; innumerable have 
 been his visits to thee in thy pilgrimage here, espe- 
 cially in the hour of trial, and in the depth of afflic- 
 tion ; in the most painful situations his presence has 
 been felt, and his comforts have poured into thy soul 
 a stream of consolation, which lias calmed thy trou- 
 bled breast. Yes, blessed Jesus, thou hast indeed 
 made this promise good to all thy followers, and to 
 
 me especially ; nor will I shun to magnify thy mercy 
 
 E 2 
 
64 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 in this great indulgence. Ye redeemed of the Lord> 
 in all your sorrows, forget not that your eternal 
 friend has promised to come to you. " Yet a little 
 while, and the world seeth me no more ; but ye see 
 me ; because I live, ye live also." As though he had 
 said, f I shall shortly give up the ghost, rise again, 
 and return to my Father's mansion ; I will hide my- 
 self from the world, for they reject me, and despise 
 my counsel; I will never more appear unto them 
 But ye shall see me, and enjoy my presence ; yea I 
 will come unto you because ye love me, and believe 
 that I am from heaven, and hav^e faith in my testi- 
 mony.' " Because I live ye shall live also. 5 ' \ When 
 I am removed from your sight, ye shall live in me by 
 faith, I will put my Spirit in you, and give you a heart 
 of true belief, such as the world cannot receive, be* 
 cause they hate me ; but ye love me, and are obedi- 
 ent to my will : and I live and am holy, and have all 
 power given unto me, therefore ye shall live also.' 
 Thy people do indeed behold with the eye of faith, 
 their once-crucified Saviour, and view him as the 
 chief, and the loveliest of all beings. They see him 
 who was once despised, forsaken, and wounded, now 
 seated at the right hand of God his Father, robed in 
 his glory, invested with power, crowned with honour, 
 praised by saints, adored by angels, and smiled on 
 by the everlasting Jehovah. Yes, Lord, by faith 
 we see thee now, and believe, that hereafter we shall 
 behold thee face to face, and reign with thee in 
 glory ! Did Jesus say, that because he lived, his 
 disciples should live also ? yes, and his words are ve- 
 rified to his people now on earth. They live in him ; 
 his vital rays are shed abroad in their hearts, and keep 
 alive the divine principle which he therein implanted. 
 
JOV AND GRIEF. 65 
 
 But, without the continuation of thy cheering beams. 
 Oh ! Sun of righteousness, the flame would cease to 
 burn, the glorious light would vanish. Oh ! breathe 
 on our hearts, and kindle the fire anew, that we may 
 prove to the world around that we are in thee, and 
 are living to thy glory. " At that day ye shall know 
 that I am in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you. ,? 
 Lord we believe that thou art in the Father, because 
 he hath drawn us unto thee by his Spirit, and taught 
 us that thou art his beloved Son, and our brother ; 
 and we know that if we delight in thy law, thou 
 dwellest in our hearts ; and if we believe in thee, we 
 are then one with thee. " Peace I leave with you, 
 my peace I give unto you." Blessed Jesus ! thy 
 peace indeed passeth understanding. The blood of 
 Jesus speaks peace to the believer's troubled soul, and 
 spreads a calm over the heart, that nothing but hea- 
 ven can bestow. When in a proper frame of mind, 
 even amidst the storms of life, the Christian feels a 
 serenity to which the votaries of the world are 
 strangers. The name of Jesus, will tranquillize the 
 spiritual mind under the deepest calamities. Oh! 
 Christian, rejoice that so solid a peace, and hea- 
 venly calm are given ; and not as the world giveth v 
 which is but for a moment and can afford no com- 
 fort, but is abiding, and neither earth nor hell can 
 take it from us. Great Lord ! the solid peace J feel 
 within must be thy gift, and blessed be the mercy 
 that bestowed it. " Let not your heart be troubled, 
 neither let it be afraid." Learn, oh ! my soul, a lesson 
 from this kind admonition, and be troubled for no- 
 thing but sin. Jesus has done all things well ; he has 
 made reconciliation for you, vanquished the power of 
 hell, suffered in your stead, become victorious over the 
 
56' A MEDLEY OF 
 
 grave, entered into the heaven of heavens for" you, 
 and has secured for you an eternal crown. He has 
 accomplished every thing needful for your happiness, 
 and now be afraid of nothing, but of offending him 
 who hath done such great things for you. Be not 
 afraid, for lo! he will be with you, even to the end, 
 if thou art faithful. Lord, take away this sinful fear 
 from my heart, and make me faithful unto death. 
 " Ye have heard how I said unto you, I go away, 
 and come again unto you. If ye love me, ye Would 
 rejoice, because 1 said I go unto the Father ; for the 
 Father is greater than I." Gracious Immanuell 
 how mild, and gentle thy reproof! Truth obliges us 
 to own that we are poor, short-sighted, selfish mor- 
 tals ; and though we love ourselves, yet we are slow 
 to discern what is for our good,, and thy glory 3 our 
 discriminating powers are dull, our judgment weak. 
 It will be well for us, if we are grieved for thy ab- 
 sence, because we love thee, and not from selfish, or 
 interested motives ; if it be from love that we mourn 
 thy absence, no earthly joy can cheer our hearts ; 
 but if from the loss of the benefits we formerly enjoy- 
 ed, we shall seek in the world a solace for our pain, 
 and will assuredly receive the reproof our sins de- 
 serve. Sorrow filled the hearts of the disciples when 
 they were told their Master would soon leave them. 
 But Jesus said, that if they loved him, they would 
 rejoice, because he was going to his Father, who is 
 in one sense, greater than he. It was natural they 
 should feel .sensibly the loss they would sustain, when 
 he was separated from them ; but they did not consi- 
 der, that his departure was for their benefit, and his 
 own glory ; they only thought of the present grief; 
 they knew not the things which they afterwards saw, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 57 
 
 and were ignorant of that which the Holy Spirit 
 taught them after his departure ; they rejoiced, and 
 their hearts burned within them, when they saw their 
 Lord was risen again. So we in these days are^apt 
 to despond at many of the occurrences of life which 
 at first appear mysterious ; but when explained to us, 
 by the providences of God, then, we see, that the 
 things which we once thought were against us, were 
 to promote our real happiness, and we are constrain- 
 ed to acknowledge the mercy, and wisdom of our 
 God. 
 
 Think not, my soul, that the disciples bore no love 
 to Christ; no, but as yet, they were weak in the faith ; 
 they had not arrived at that state of exalted knowledge 
 to which they afterwards attained. Perhaps our Lord 
 gave this gentle hint to divert their thoughts from their 
 approaching loss, and lead them towards the field of 
 action, into which they were about to enter. Had the 
 disciples been as well versed in the school of Christ, 
 at that time, as they afterwards were, they must have 
 rejoiced at the idea of his leaving them. He was go- 
 ing to be delivered from the sufferings of mortality, 
 and to return to his father's house above. If we truly 
 love a friend, will we not rather suffer a privation ? 
 than be a hindrance to his happiness, and welfare ? 
 certainly. Therefore, had the disciples of our Lord 
 been fully, acquainted with the nature of his office 
 and character, they would indeed have rejoiced to part 
 with him, knowing he would soon return to them and 
 abide with them for ever. " For my father is greater 
 than I." Greater, brethren, now, because I have laid 
 aside my royal robes, and am surrounded with a mor- 
 tal body ; I am in the form of a servant, and appear 
 in the character of a mediator ; as long as T am ia 
 
m A MEDLEY OF 
 
 this world, I cannot be as great as God. Though f 
 have heretofore assured you that I was equal with 
 the father, I do not deceive you ; for with respect to 
 the divine nature, I am, even now, his equal. Alas ! 
 how many have misunderstood these words of the 
 Saviour ; and have drunk in the poisonous doctrine 
 of Socinianism, and have shamefully degraded the 
 divine nature, and sunk it to a level with their own. 
 Oh Jesus ! thou glorious Son of the most high God ! 
 what a degradation — to place thee on a par with sin- 
 ful, and finite beings! Oh! how derogatory from 
 thy purity of soul, thy spotless nature, to suppose that 
 thou art merely man. Oh my soul ! beware of the 
 arguments of men, that would tempt thee to believe 
 this dreadful falsehood. Blessed be thy name, O Son 
 of God ! thou hast a people on earth who believe thy 
 divinity, and worship thee as a God once manifested 
 in the flesh, but now clothed with that honour, majesty, 
 and power, which thou hadst from the beginning. But, 
 Oh shame to tell ! shall it be said, that there are de- 
 praved mortals who attempt to rob thee of thy glory, 
 by endeavouring to prove thee possessed of the same 
 nature with sinful worms ? Methinks, even the devils 
 would reproach man for his folly and vile ingratitude, 
 for they, with all their hellish malice, and revengeful 
 spirit, testified of thee before men, and proclaimed thy 
 divinity in the strongest terms. This, Oh j my soul, 
 is a convincing proof that the devils knew our Lord 
 before their rebellion, and were compelled to acknow- 
 ledge his Almighty power; they tremble at his awful 
 presence, conscious of their baseness as traitors in 
 heaven, and their unceasing enmity. Oh ! my soul, 
 thou hast great reason to rejoice, that Jesus has again 
 entered into heaven, and now sits at the Father's right 
 
JOY AND GRIEF 59 
 
 iiand to make intercession for thee, and for the lost 
 p of the house of Israel. 'Tis through his pray- 
 er? thou art kept, and receivest light, life, grace, and 
 all the blessings bestowed by a covenant God. I 
 thee, Oh ! thou highly exalted lmmanuel, shall perpe- 
 tual praise arise from ever}' heart that knows a Sa- 
 viour's love. "And now ] have told }'Ou before it 
 comes to pass, that when it shall come, ye mav be- 
 lieve." Compassionate Redeemer ! how kind to pre- 
 pare thy servants' minds for the events that were to 
 take place; thou knewest what frail, weak creatures 
 we are, how slow to believe what thou dost say, there- 
 fore thou didst tell them, and us, what should hereaf- 
 ter be, to confirm our faith ; that when we see tiling 
 come to pass which thou hadst foretold, we may believe 
 that thou wert really God. Blessed be thy name, Oh 
 thou great Prince of eternal life, that my soul lives 
 in a day when thy words are fulfilling, and thy people 
 behold the developement of those glorious plans which 
 thou hadst formed for their salvation. They view the 
 display of thy sovereign love, they hail thee as Israel V 
 king, the mighty God. the great Jehovah f J ' 
 
 MEDITATION 
 
 A WALK TO MOUNT OLIVET ON A. SUMMER S F.VE- 
 July, 1815. 
 
 The sun, that bright and never varying orb, 
 Has almost finished his diurnal round, 
 And gently glides toward the western hills, 
 Which wave their lofty plumes at his approach. 
 And hail the travelling monarch on his way; 
 
60 A MEDLEY O* 
 
 Who from his car reflects his dazzling beams, [waves ; 
 And gilds the wood-crowned heaths, the western 
 Sheds his bright radiance o'er the flow'ry lawns, 
 Smiles on the scenery — ancWiastens on. — 
 Methinks 'tis now a pleasant time to walk, 
 Then let me haste, and with my much-loved friend, 
 Stroll from my cot, and view the blissful spot 
 My eyes and heart so long have wished to see. — 
 
 The lovely eve invites ; then come my soul, be tun- 
 ed for contemplation, and come Ruthie, friend of my 
 heart, leave, for a while, all care and concern, and 
 bear me company ; I have a walk in view which my 
 imagination paints to be more lovely and sublime than 
 ever pencil yet portrayed — Give me your arm, and 
 let us go forth, before bright Sol retires from the 
 scene; his cheerful presence will animate our bosoms, 
 and when he makes his exit it will vary the prospect, 
 and solemnize our thoughts. 
 
 This is about the time of day, I think, my friend, 
 when Christ our Lord, in the days of his flesh, used 
 to resort to the place where we now direct our feet. 
 What exquisite delight the disciples must have felt, to 
 have had God manifested in the flesh, for their com- 
 panion in their evening rambles. Though he is not 
 in person with us, his spiritual presence 1 hope will ac- 
 company us this evening to delight our souls— O'er 
 land and sea imagination flies, borne on the wings of 
 fancy ; here we drop near Bethpage, and the town of 
 Bethany— behold mount Olivet in view ! O let us run 
 and hail the hallowed ground ! But hark ! what dole- 
 ful sound salutes my ear ? It is, — ah! it is Jerusalem's 
 cries, — she bids us cast our eyes on her as we pass, 
 and view her awful desolation. Look, O my soul, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 6i 
 
 d thou, my Ruth, turn round and see the vast ruins 
 of that once famous town — that great and noble city, 
 whose magnificence none excelled. Alas! behold 
 her humbled in the dust — her beauty and grandeur 
 fled — her outskirts forsaken — her high walls laid low; 
 and her fruitful gardens become a desert. Ah how 
 are the words of Jesus verified ! Prophetic words 
 uttered by a divine voice, " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem ! 
 the days shall come when thine enemies shall compass 
 thee about, and shall lay thee even with the ground, 
 and thy children with thee, and shall not leave in thee 
 one stone upon another," — yes, thus spoke the migh- 
 ty prophet Jesus, the son of God, while copious drops 
 rolled down his heavenly cheek, and sighs and groans 
 burst from his bleeding heart. His word he passed, 
 the awful curse pronounced, and not one jot has fail- 
 ed. Ah see, dearest Ruth, and O my soul, with weep- 
 ing eyes, behold that once flourishing place now laid 
 waste — the temple, and all its beautiful decorations 
 fallen and reduced to dust, as the Saviour foretold. 
 But of how little consequence is the temple and its 
 grandeur, the gold and the silver, compared to the de- 
 struction of the many thousand souls that shared in the 
 sad catastrophe! ! O let a grateful ejaculation ascend 
 to that all potent Being (whose eyes are too pure, and 
 his nature too holy to wink at sin, and pass by iniqui- 
 ty) that we through mercy have escaped their pollu- 
 tions, and been spared from sharing the same fate. 
 God has not dealt with us according to our sins, or we 
 like them might have been cut ofl' without hope. Not 
 unto us, O our God! be the praise for our escape; 
 but unto thy mercy may the glory redound. 
 
 Oft would the blessed Redeemer, O Jerusalem! in 
 the days of his flesh "have gathered together thy 
 
 F 
 
62 A MEDLEY Oh 
 
 children, even as the careful hen beneath her wings 
 gathereth her tender brood, but you would not." 
 Alas no, thou wouldst not hearken to the mild voice of 
 peace, nor the things that pertained to thy safety O 
 how art thou fallen, thou mighty city, and thy inhabit- 
 ants crushed with thee — O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, for 
 thee, even we, thy fellow-sinners, mourn — we drop a 
 serrowful tear over thy desolate house — Thus sakh 
 the Lord, thou shalt no more see the incarnate God 
 till thou shalt say, " Blessed is he that cometh in the 
 name of the Lord Jehovah." But let us hasten to 
 brighter scenes, for here my heart feels sad. We will 
 direct our steps this way ; it leads to yonder vale, the 
 descent of Olivet's mount. The flowery valleys, the 
 gay-dressed meads, the verdant hills, smile at our ap- 
 proach, and seem to say, gaze on the rich display of 
 infinite wisdom, admire and adore the hand that so 
 sumptuously clothes the fields, to please the eye, the 
 taste and smell. How bountiful, dear Ruth, God is to 
 his creatures ! At this moment, not only our sight is 
 gratified, but the flowers and shrubs emit their fra- 
 grant odours from the smiling dales, and regale us by 
 the way. Thou beneficent Benefactor ! help us to 
 breathe upwards a grateful hymn — ten thousand mer- 
 cies attend us in this lower sphere, of which we are 
 insensible, because they are so frequently repeated. 
 But O, that very thing ought to excite continual gra- 
 titude — but alas, our carnal minds are so taken up with 
 vanity that we often forget the things that ought most 
 to occupy our thoughts. Man, poor frail man, is ever 
 ready to grasp the bounties and enjoy the luxuries of 
 Providence, but seldom thinks of the source whence 
 they flow. Even Christians are too unmindful of the 
 hand that bestows their blessings. Is it not so, my 
 
10Y AND GRIEF. 63 
 
 friend ? As for me, my heart and conscience reproach 
 me daily for my vile ingratitude. 
 
 But Ruthie, the thought has just struck me, — this is 
 the road the great Redeemer's feet have so often traced ; 
 then let us for a moment pause, look round once more 
 and take a view — my mind feels unusually awed, whilst 
 surveying the surrounding scene — methinks too I see 
 mingled sensations painted on your brow — dear friend, 
 I know your countenance betra} 7 s the subject of your 
 thoughts — yes, I know what passes in your breast and 
 catch the flame ; speak, gentle sister, and thou my soul, 
 break ; forth keep not silent O my stammering tongue! 
 Is not this the way, the solemn place, through which 
 the incarnate Jehovah rode in triumph ? It is, and O, 
 methinks I see the multitude follow the Saviour with 
 extatic joy, their hearts with love and rapture glow. 
 See how the joyous active throng cut down the 
 branches, strip off their vestments and strew them in 
 the mighty Prince's way, whilst their wondering souls, 
 on high exalted strains, burst forth in loud songs and 
 laud the Lamb. List, O my soul ! O hark, my kin- 
 dred friend, hear how they sound his glories high — 
 H Hosanna to the son of David, David's King, blessed 
 is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ; peace in 
 heaven, and glory in the highest." Hosanna again 
 and again they shout, and their joyful acclamations 
 rend the air. O my soul, behold and adore thy King ; 
 Jesus the great the glorious God man ! behold thy 
 King, O Zion's daughters ! and Zion's sons view your 
 royal Prince, sitting on a colt the foal of an ass. 
 He comes to thee meek and lowly, the mighty con- 
 queror, and the humble man— Zion, behold and re- 
 ceive thy King — hasten to meet thy great deliverer, 
 welcome his coming, and salute his ear with shouts 
 
64 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 i 
 
 of grateful joy — hail him Messiah, victorious King 
 of saints, Lord of the wide creation — hail him Jeho- 
 vah. God Omnipotent, God in the flesh, great Media- 
 tor, Saviour of man, and Israel's Redeemer — as such 
 heboid him, and as such receive him. The illustrious 
 monarch of Heaven, the creator of worlds, leaves 
 his mansions of glory, his transcendent throne, his 
 golden palace, his royal diadem, and comes to man's 
 relief — he comes, the Son of God, — God himself to 
 die to save apostate man — O wondrous condescen- 
 sion 1 infinite mercy ! inimitable love ! — to be thus 
 favoured, thus stooped to by an offended God, and 
 invited to come to his blessed arms — O ineffable 
 grace! to be thus wooed b}' eternal love. Shall Is- 
 rael refuse? Shall we my sister? O, rather let our 
 dearest joy be taken from us, our eyes plucked out 5 
 and our limbs cut off, rather than to reject the Sa- 
 viour. Amazing submission ! for Jesus our Maker to 
 condescend to ask fallen guilty man, poor vile ingrate. 
 to give him place in his perfidious heart — Angels that 
 never sinned might stand confounded to be thus dealt 
 with; but man, depraved, disobedient man, to meet 
 with such favour, and have honours conferred on him 
 so vastly great by Him who is supreme Lord of 
 heaven, earth and seraphic beings, is wonderful in- 
 deed, beyond all mortal thought. O let us take the 
 King of Glory in, let us unbar t he doors ; throw open 
 wide the gates, and luimbly welcome the pitying Jesus 
 to our astonished hearts. Eternal Friend, stupend- 
 ous God ! lo, at thy adorable feet, we prostrate our 
 worthless selves, and gladly receive thee, whilst con- 
 fusion seizes our guilty breasts, to have from thee such 
 unmerited favours ; yes, blessed Jesus, adored Prince 
 of Peace, thou lofty King of kings, and Lord of 
 
JOV AND GRIlt 66 
 
 lords! we, poor, insignificant, creeping worms, bow 
 at thy footstool, and kiss thy sacred feet — acknow- 
 ledge thy mercy, confess our sins, and bless thy migh- 
 ty power to save — we own thee sovereign Lord of 
 all, the only true and living God, whilst less {ban 
 nothing we ourselves confess. O when will the bless- 
 ed period arrive, when all the nations, kindreds, 
 tongues, and people, shall be brought to bow to the 
 gentle sceptre of this great and glorious Prince of 
 life. Would that I could sound, a mighty trumpet 
 around the spacious globe, and alarm the living dead ; 
 would that I could, with a vociferous voice, rouse 
 the deaf from every quarter of the earth. Unclose 
 my lips, awake ! thou my most active powers ! my 
 tongue unloose thy bands, and speak boldly to those 
 within thy reach — warn the ungodly, warn the un- 
 thinking crowd to turn, repent, and follow Christ. 
 Why, why will ye die, O thoughtless mortals ? why will 
 ye so madly seek the death that never dies ? Dream 
 no longer of sublunary bliss — shake off insidious 
 Morpheus, and O awake, deluded sinners, from your 
 sinful sleep ; rouse from the awful state, into which 
 your poor immortal souls are plunged — turn, turn 
 from the road to ruin ; forsake Pleasure and her 
 dangerous train — O shun her vain allurements and 
 her artful snares — be no longer enticed by her flatter- 
 ing voice — the hateful sorceress leads thee far astray, 
 far from the peaceful path of happiness and life — her 
 traps are ever laid to catch thy slippery feet, and ere 
 thou art aware will plunge thee down the awful preci- 
 pice of endless ruin. Alas! be not obstinate! awake, 
 O awake, dear fellow-sinners, and hearken to the 
 friendly voice of Wisdom — she is thy friend, listen to 
 
 her mild counsels, and by them be guided, for all ber 
 
 F 2 
 
66 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 paths are paths of peace and joy — she wisely 
 bids thee let the fleeting phantom go, and pursue 
 those pleasures that will not forsake thee, even on a 
 dying bed. Seek Jesus, the invaluable pearl of great 
 price — grasp at the inestimable gem, the Saviour, that 
 bright diamond, that fair nonpareil of heaven, whilst 
 he is offered a free gift to man — receive Salvation 
 while it is proffered, lest the day should be spent, and 
 the night approach wherein no man can woik — be 
 wise, ye children of Adam, and accept the great Re- 
 deemer. Behold the Saviour! he comes, O careless 
 mortals, he comes with mild overtures of peace — and 
 shall he woo in vain ? Shall he in vain stretch out 
 his hand all the day long to a wicked and gain- 
 saying people ? Tremble and dread his indignation, 
 if ye turn not to meet the monarch of the skies. 
 Turn, O turn, and court the king of glory, the God of 
 happiness, and unfading bliss-— open your hearts, and 
 let lmmanuel in. I charge you, O ye gay a^d giddy 
 throng, to leave your false pleasures, and your sinful 
 lusts, and follow Jesus with grateful bosoms — follow 
 him with meek and lowly hearts — refuse him not, lest 
 he should be weary, and in wrathful ire raise his hand 
 and swear to exclude you for ever from his rest. Ah 
 think not, ye thoughtless race, if ye persist in your 
 ways, to escape his vengeance — God's justice is equal 
 to his mercy; though he is compassionate, his justice 
 will punish the ungodly. Shall he who spared not 
 his own son — the only begotten of his bosom, the 
 beloved of his soul, but delivered him up for a sacri- 
 fice for the guilty children of men, spare his enemies ? 
 Shall obstinate rebellious worms of the dust go un- 
 punished, and the righteous soul of his darling Son 
 suffer, worse than a thousand deaths. No, be not de- 
 
JOY AND GRIEF 6T 
 
 ;;eived, unthinking mortals, the wrath of God will 
 abide forever on those who continue to walk in dark- 
 ness, in preference to following Christ ! who is the 
 light, and the way, O remember too, dear fellow-sin- 
 ners, that God created us a little lower than the angels; 
 and the sinning angels he spared not, but cast them, 
 when they rebelled, out of Heaven into utter darkness, 
 where there is weeping and wailing for ever — O then, 
 how can ye think to escape, if they who were supe- 
 rior could not possibly fly from the hand of strict jus- 
 tice ? O assemble, all ye ends of the earth, and hear 
 what God has done for you — he hath provided a Sa- 
 viour for all who will believe on him — a Saviour able 
 and witling to save all who come unto him ; unfathom- 
 able condescension ! to stoop to depraved man, and 
 pass by fallen angels — apostate angels have no pro- 
 vision made for them, the Lord in his just anger ex- 
 cluded them all from happiness — O then, appreciate 
 the mercy, ye fallen race of men, of having salvation 
 planned for you, and seek to win the prize ! O my 
 Ruthie, let us adore the power, goodness, and grace, 
 which have so kindly revealed the news to us, and 
 so sweetly forced us to accept it. But let us proceed,, 
 or Hyperion will withdraw his lightsome rays, and 
 Vesper usher in the starry host, before we well can view 
 the hallowed ground — a few more minutes will bring 
 us to the spot ; the nearer I draw towards the place, the 
 more solemn I feel — 
 
 Hail lovely shades, the Saviour's peaceful seat, 
 When on this globe, of contemplation sweet. 
 
 Hail, beauteous mount with olives richly drest ! 
 Hail, laughing valleys surrounding Olivet ! All hail, 
 and welcome two of Jesus' friends ! We come to visit 
 
30 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 thee, O venerable shades, and see thy imperial mas- 
 ter's loved retreat — to view the sacred ground the 
 great Jehovah trod, when clad with fleshly weeds, an 
 humble tenant in these lower regions — O could we 
 meet our Lord in person here, how would our longing 
 hearts with fire glow — but no, that cannot be ; the 
 Son, the incarnate God, no longer climbs this mount; 
 no more he haunts the smiling groves — he has retired 
 and gone to better scenes — he now, with holy spirits 
 traces the Elysian fields on high, and we, even we, I 
 trust ere long shall soar, and rove o'er the everlasting 
 hills with him. Let us resort to yonder place— -me- 
 thinks it must have been the Lord's chosen seat — it 
 appears the most delightful here — how beautifully na- 
 ture has formed, and laid out this mountain! Surely 
 it was designed by nature's God for the devotional and 
 peaceful retreat of the spiritual Jesus — O my friend ! 
 is this indeed the ftowery embroidered Olivet, where 
 Christ and his much loved disciples strayed ? Is this 
 the dear delectable spot, where the Redeemer, and his 
 little band so loved to sit and converse on eternal truth, 
 while their great captain with a voice divine poured 
 sweet counsel in their listening ears ; taught them to 
 watch and pray and fight against principalities, the 
 tempter's wiles, the powers of darkness, and a deceit- 
 ful heart ? O, my friend, are we awake or do we dream ? 
 Are we indeed upon the mount where Jesus, some- 
 times with the happy twelve, but oft alone, retired to- 
 ward the close of day? If it be a dream or imaginary 
 vision, I charge you, O ye little restless fancies of the 
 brain, not to disturb or awake us from it, till we have 
 feasted our souls with a taste and sight of the glorious 
 and animating scene of Olivet — a place sacred to the 
 Heavenly Jesus. Here is a rock ; it looks as though it 
 might have been the seat of the meek and lowly Lamb, 
 
JU\ AM) CiRlEF. uy 
 
 who, though sinless, was a man of sorrow and ac- 
 quainted with grief — perhaps on this rock, the briny 
 flood from his dear cheek has often flowed for sinful 
 man. Let us rest ourselves upon it, we have a fine \}e\v 
 here of the ruins of Jerusalem — how sublime, and beau- 
 tiful must have been the prospect, before its fall ! The 
 gardens, fountains, walks and groves, must, I think, 
 have formed a most superb and grand scenery ere its 
 total demolition. Alas how changed the scene, since 
 Jesus used to sit, and from this lofty eminence survey 
 the city. Many an unknown tear in secret, methinks 
 the Saviour shed, when contemplating the destruc- 
 tion of the magnificent temple — but ah, it was not the 
 city, nor the temple, nor its grandeur, which caused the 
 heavenly tear to drop — but for its inhabitants the Lord 
 of glory wept — his gentle bosom heaved and bled for 
 the iniquities and dreadful state of its rebellious resi- 
 dents. What think you, my friend, made the Lord 
 of life and glory, the creator and upholder of worlds, 
 retire here, and make the turf his bed through the dark 
 shades of silent night? was it because no grateful 
 heart, no friendly voice, invited the celestial Jesus on 
 soft and downy pillows to repose ? Pillows, and all 
 things else his, own. The earth with all her store at 
 his disposal, and at his command ; yet was the cold 
 earth his bed — a stone his cushion, and his dear 
 limbs exposed to damps, and chilling dews, the hea- 
 vens his only canopy ! Could angels weep surely they 
 would have let fall a tear at such an astonishing sight ? 
 Was it to sleep, or converse with his father God, or 
 with his watchful seraphic band to talk ? or did he come 
 here to spend the night in prayer, to intercede and sup- 
 plicate for the lost sheep of Israel ! to beg if possible to 
 have the impendingjudgments of heaven averted, and to 
 
70 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 invoke blessings on his guilty foes? methinks itwas so; 
 O speak, my Ruth; did ever love and condescension so 
 conspicuously shine in mortal man ? was such depth 
 of affection ever realized in the best of friends ? Ah 
 no, the nearest, dearest, and most tender earthly kin- 
 dred might do much; but not perform the Redeemer's 
 part; his kindness infinitely transcends ; not for his 
 inends, but for his enemies, the magnanimous Son of 
 Jehovah, such wondrous love displayed ! Dear sacred 
 ground, for ever to be remembered spot ! O solemn 
 place! O honoured mount! I bend, and kiss your 
 sods which Jesus trod, whilst my spirit soars and wor- 
 ships at his feet on high. Look how gorgeously the 
 fertile valleys are robed, which Jesus on his way here 
 past through to reach his favourite retreat ; not through 
 the toil and cultivation of man, but by the hand of 
 nature, they live and bloom to the honour of the sacred 
 memory of him who when incarnate honoured them 
 with his visits ; thrive and bloom on, ye calm and plea- 
 sant vales and lawns, let your odours, while time en- 
 dures, rise in rich profusion to the praise of the divine 
 hand, whose matchless skill has so finely wrought 
 your varied hues, your fragrant shrubbery and your 
 embroidered paths. O see, my sister, from yonder 
 grove-crowned hills, how the feathered race are (lock- 
 ing here. What brings you hither, ye warblers of the 
 woods ? Is it to serenade the Saviour's friends ? or do 
 you assemble here every evening, to eelehrate nature's 
 God, and hold these shades sacred to his memory ? If 
 so, then strike your notes, ye winged choristers ; be not 
 afraid, we come not to intrude ; let harmonious praise 
 to the Creator ascend, and we will join you in the 
 gloriouslay ; dear little innocent songsters, swell, sweH 
 your tuneful throats, 
 
JOY AiND GRIEF ;i 
 
 Whilst we our hearts, and every fibre strain, 
 To join the chorus " worthy is the Lamb." 
 How gay and happy these little cherubs hop from 
 spray to spray, and sound their Maker's praise abroad ; 
 whilst man, most obligated of all God's creation, and 
 the most wondrous and glorious piece of his work- 
 manship, is the most backward to spread his honours 
 and to sound his praise. Ungrateful man ! from thee 
 unceasing praise, and ceaseless songs, are due to Him 
 who formed thee, and who keeps thee in being by the 
 breath of his nostrils : to him who maketh the earth to 
 yield her fruits in their seasons for thy sake, and caus- 
 eth the clouds to drop rain, the harvest to grow, the 
 cattle to thrive, the seasons, summer, and winter, au- 
 tumn and spring, to roll round in their turn, for the 
 comfort and benefit of man— and yet how thoughtless 
 and unmindful is he of his Maker's goodness ! what 
 a stranger to God, and how insensible of the deep and 
 numerous obligations he is under to him ! O could we 
 his followers imitate the grateful example of these lit- 
 tle birds— how would it add to our felicity here, and 
 redound to the glory of God ! for us the sun,' and 
 moon, and stars were made— the earth, and sea, and 
 all that is therein— for us, « brands plucked from the 
 fire;" for our sakesthe purchase of Immanuel's blood, 
 creation, and all things stand. Amazing mercy ! unpa- 
 ralleled love ! love divine! O let us, who have pro- 
 fessed the Saviour's name, be first to raise his glories 
 high ; be first to spread his honours, and first in grate- 
 ful strains, to sing his praise, and magnify his name ! 
 Now turn, my soul, and look towards the south side of 
 the mount— there, behold, a scene rises to view still 
 more sublime— glorious Gethsemane ! O garden of 
 delightful solemn shades, where the illustrious Re- 
 
A MEDLEY Oh 
 
 deemer, in an agony, thrice poured out his sacred 
 breathings to heaven, to have if possible, the' cup of 
 wrath removed — gaze, gaze my eyes, on that memo- 
 rable place, and learn, O my soul ! submission, and re- 
 signation from Jesus the passive Lamb — Lo he pros- 
 trated his fair body on the common earth, and solicit- 
 ed favour from above — amazing ! was Jesus, the God 
 man, thus necessitated ? alas ! yes, and with sighs and 
 anguish inexpressible, he groaned out " O my father, 
 if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ; neverthe- 
 less, not as I will, but as thou wilt." Then, a second 
 time falling on his blessed face, with pangs indescrib- 
 able, but with holy submission, he exclaims, O my 
 father, if this (bitter cup) may not pass away except 
 I drink it, thy will be done-— with the most poignant 
 sorrow and wo too big for language to express, too 
 vastly great for even angels to conceive, the blessed 
 Saviour a third time repeats the prayer, struggling 
 with the huge weight of human guilt, while sweat in 
 drops of blood rolled downward to the ground. O 
 Gethsemane, Gethsemane 1 thou wert a silent witness 
 of this humbling scene — angels gazed with astonish- 
 ment to see the mighty conflict : the heavenly host at a 
 sjo-ht so wondrous, surely must have been struck with 
 profound awe, and touched with astonishment inex- 
 pressible — methinks they could not see the great Su- 
 preme, thus humbled and agonized, without emotion ; 
 great monarch of the skies, and didst thou thus yield 
 to sufferings ? was the cup filled with ingredients so 
 pungent, so bitter, as to force thy piercing cries thus 
 to ascend ? was the prospect of approaching ignomi- 
 ny and death so vastly agonizing, as to cause such 
 humiliating posture and such ardent prayer ? or, was 
 it the vindictive wrath of the Father, both here, and 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 73 
 
 on the cross, which was falling on thy guiltless head ; 
 when thou wast left to the power and cruelty of thy 
 merciless and blood thirsty enemies — and when, in 
 the bitterness of thy soul, thou wast driven to the v?x- 
 trerae anguish to groan out " my God, my God, why 
 hast thou forsaken me." O what a moment was this ! 
 well might a revolution take place in nature — well 
 might the graves open — well might the apostate Judas, 
 the barbarous traitor, sink his soul into endless shame ; 
 well might the vai! of the temple be rent, the earth 
 quake, and great fear fall upon many — O what a 
 scene was then presented — such a one as even sera- 
 phic beings might fail in attempting to portray. And, 
 to save a brutish race, the son of God did suffer thus ; 
 in which we, my Ruth, are implicated — Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 
 what indescribable emotions seize my guilty breast ! 
 my bosom is too big with variety to give it vent — 
 my tongue fails on this subject — here is matter for a 
 long, long theme — but I am lost, lost, lost ! I feel con- 
 demned too, too much condemned to utter what 1 feel ; 
 I feel, I know not what — do you, my friend, recipro- 
 cate my feelings ? your silence tells me that you do ; 
 It was sin, cursed sin that caused the doleful scene on 
 Calvary, and the huge drops of bloody sweat to flow 
 in Gethsemane's garden — let us ever keep in remem- 
 brance those holy shades ; and under every trying 
 circumstance, emulate the meek and lowly Jesus — like 
 him be passive — wait like him submissive at our Fa- 
 ther's throne, and learn the language of his obedient 
 Son; Father, notour wills, but thine, thy sovereign will 
 be done ! Now, let us again ascend the summit of the 
 mount, and see the bright emperor of day depart — 
 be is rapidly making his exit — let us quicken our 
 pace, or we shall lose a grand scene — the western glo- 
 
 G 
 
74 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 ries are already in sight — sweet Phoebus, how splen- 
 did thy beams ! how far thy golden beauties expand ! 
 how beautifully too the horizon is tinged with soft co- 
 louring — colouring arranged by the fine judgment, 
 and skilful hand of the supreme artist above — this is 
 a sight, my Ruth, that infinitely surpasses the inven- 
 tion of man, however finely his art may be displayed ; 
 how peaceful, and smiling he declines — he's gone,- — 
 how mild and gently he withdrew his lucid rays ; all 
 around is perfect serenity — O may we as calmly go 
 to rest when we have finished our course, when we have 
 ended our race below. O my friend, what variety per* 
 vades my mind, while reflecting how many wretched 
 souls have fled their earthly cage, since last the sun 
 went down ! yet we through mercy are still spared— 
 and with immortal Watts may say, 
 
 " And yet he lengthens out our thread. 
 
 And yet our moments run 
 
 Dear God let all our hours be thine 
 
 Whilst we enjoy the light ; 
 
 Then shall our sun in smiles decline 
 
 And bring a pleasant night." — 
 How fair this night is ushered in ! Beauties arise, 
 whichever way we turn — here is another scene, still 
 animating, calm and pleasing ! — look up, my friend, 
 and with admiring eye gaze on the pale Lunette — 
 Slowly she comes across the valleys-— dost thou come 
 here, fair Cynthia, to survey thy Maker's favourite 
 shades, and shed thy radiance o'er the holy ground ? 
 And thou, fair Hesperus, dost thou here wander too ? 
 What wouldst thou ? thy Creator strolls no longer 
 here — that blessed head on which thy silver beams 
 so oft reflected through the silent night, no longer 
 makes these turfs its pillow — no gentle orbs, no more 
 
JOY AND GRIEF 
 
 To 
 
 Uie Saviour wanders o'er this mount ; he walks the 
 golden hills on high above, where you and other pla- 
 nets roll ; and we beyond your spheres ere long will 
 mount, and rove the heavenly fields with Jesus und 
 the celestial multitude. 
 
 Yes, in a little while, my Ruthie, we shall exchange 
 terrestial for celestial scenes. Blessed Eden ! O garden 
 of endless delight ! thou fair Paradise of the eternal 
 God ! soon we shall perambulate thy balmy groves, 
 walk thy green lawns, repose in thy fragrant bowers, 
 gather unfading flowers and strew them round the 
 throne— wrought crowns of amaranth and gold shall 
 deck the Saviour's head— delightful task, O sweet em- 
 ploy — when will this mortal put on immortality, and 
 the blest anticipated work commence — be patient, O 
 my soul, a few more fleeting hours of time, a few more 
 revolving suns and moons, shall bring the wished for 
 day— but come, dear friend of my heart, let us return ; 
 nocturnal shades approach, and bid us leave the place ; 
 farewell dear sacred mount — ye pleasing silver streams, 
 adieu ! ye hills and dales, and flow'ry walks, ye ver- 
 dant plains, surrounding Olivet, Gethsemune's memo- 
 rable shades, and gardens of pleasure, all, all farewell ! 
 for evening calls us home ; and whilst with a slow pace 
 our feet bend homeward, O let our heart and voices 
 be lifted high, in grateful praise to him, who reigns 
 above, who made the heavens, and formed creation 
 wide. 
 
 Begin-, my soul, a theme, a song divine ! 
 And in the sacred lay my Ruthie join ! 
 Cynthia, unite with all your shining band 
 To praise the Lord, and bless his liberal hand, 
 Sylvan and Flora's numerous, rosy train, 
 Help us to celebrate the Saviour's name : 
 
76 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Soft, gentle zephyrs breathe his praise abroad, 
 
 And charm the evening with the tale of God, 
 
 In vocal strains, ye insect tribes awake, 
 
 Tune your best notes, and of the song partake. 
 
 Ye evening songsters, warblers of the grove, 
 
 In softest notes breathe out his praise and love ; 
 
 Ye purling rills, and ye more boisterous waves, 
 
 Let your soft flowings, and huge roarings praise; 
 
 And thou Leviathan, whose marvellous birth 
 
 Transcends all wonders of this wond'rous earth. 
 
 Join in the anthem, and with mighty roar 
 
 Proclaim aloud his praise from shore to shore. 
 
 Come, proud Olympus, let thy tops arise 
 
 In nobler strains, and pierce the loftier skies ; 
 
 Olivet's mount, and numerous stones and rocks, 
 
 Sing him, who frequented your fragrant walks i 
 
 Ye humble valleys, in the concert join, 
 
 Awake, ye flow 'ring lawns, and praise the Lamb. 
 
 Gethsemane, in strains sublime break out, 
 
 Still witnesses of Christ his praises shout 
 
 Yes, hallowed shades, your long, long silence break, 
 
 And his great name your constant subject make. 
 
 Awake, creation all, man, bird and beast, 
 
 To praise him, from the mightiest to the least ; 
 
 Bring forth an instrument of many strings, 
 
 Hail him, great Lord of lords and King of kings. 
 
 Ye dear redeemed, the children of his grace, 
 
 Who have the highest cause to sound his praise. 
 
 Come, tune your lyres, and let the work begin, 
 
 And earth and heaven with loud hosannas ring, 
 
 Ye sinless saints, who dwell beyond the skies, 
 
 Strike all your harps and let sweet anthems rise ; 
 
 Angels assist us in the mighty lay, 
 
 And while you, on your golden viols play » 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 77 
 
 We in more humble strains will laud the Lamb, 
 And raise hosannas to the great I Am, 
 Strike high your notes, loud in the chorus join, 
 Whilst we attempt to raise a song divine. 
 
 The sun, and the moon and the stars, 
 Are all the bright works of thy hand j 
 
 They rise, and they set, and they shine, 
 Great God, at thy potent command. 
 
 To God, the Creator of heaven, 
 The planets, the sea, and the land, 
 
 Let eulogies, grateful and sweet, 
 Arise from the works of his hand. 
 
 We all are the works of thy hand, 
 And will thy great wonders proclairr 
 
 And publish o'er sea, and o'er land, 
 Thy sovereign, eternal ? great name. 
 
 To Jesus, the Father's dear Son, 
 
 Who expir'd on Calvary's tree, 
 Every kindred and nation and tongue, 
 
 O bow at his footstool the knee. 
 
 To thee our great Maker and God, 
 
 Who sits in the blue vaulted skies, 
 Invested with power and grace, 
 
 Let honour and glory arise. 
 
 With mercy and majesty rob'd, 
 
 The Godhead in glory there reigns ; 
 
 With reverence and awe let us bow, 
 
 And praise his illustrious names. 
 G 2 
 
A MEDLEY OF 
 
 At the throne of th' Omnipotent GotF ? 
 
 O worship, ye ends of the earth. 
 Adore him ten thousand times o'er, 
 
 Ye people of heavenly birth. 
 
 Thou'rt worthy, O Jesus the Christ,, 
 
 Of honour and power divine ; 
 All blessings, dominion and praise, 
 
 For ever and ever be thine. 
 
 Due reverence and homage be paid 
 To thee, O immaculate Dove; 
 
 Who comforts and teaches the saints 
 Such gentleness, meekness and love. 
 
 Perfection, and wisdom, a»d mercy, 
 Adorn all thy works and thy ways; 
 
 Thy goodness, from day unto day, 
 Calls loud for our most ardent praise. 
 
 Let morning, and evening, and night, 
 All join in the praise of I Am, 
 
 And noontide, and darkness and light y 
 O magnify with us the Lamb. 
 
 Praise him, my dear Ruth, and give thank: 
 My heart and my wondering soul ; 
 
 O worship, adore him and praise, 
 As long as thy minutes here roll. 
 
 For redemption's great wond'rous work. 
 
 O doubly adore him my heart ; 
 Ten thousand times still let his praise 
 
 Arise from my immortal part. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 79 
 
 Jehovah, great Jesus, God-man, 
 
 Thou meek and adorable Lamb; 
 We bless and revere thy great name, 
 
 For assuming the nature of man ; 
 
 And leaving a glittering throne, 
 
 In regions of sorrow to dwell, 
 To save an apostatized race, 
 
 From the jaws of an endless hell. 
 
 All sinless, all perfect and just, 
 Yet, for our transgressions made sin; 
 
 The spear in thy side it was thrust, 
 For our sakes was racked every limb, 
 
 His death has procured us a crown, 
 
 Which never, O never will fade ; 
 And ere long, the Redeemer himself 
 
 Will th' diadem place on our head, 
 
 His blood an inheritance bought, 
 
 For us who believe in his word ; 
 His sufferings purchas'd our peace, 
 
 And 'conciliation with God. 
 
 For this wond'rous love, let our souls 
 In high notes each moment break out; 
 
 All in the invisible world, 
 Glory everlastingly shout. 
 
 To Jehovah, the glorious God, 
 
 Be honour and power divine, 
 More blessings than creatures can give. 
 
 For ever and ever be thine. 
 
W A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Ail glory to thy sacred name, 
 
 Dear Saviour, of justice and love ; 
 
 We exalt thee, O wondrous Lamb ! 
 And praise thee, O heavenly dove. 
 
 To the Father, the Spirit, and Son, 
 Let honours perpetually rise, 
 
 From all in the earth, and the sea, 
 And above the ethereal skies. 
 
 TO AGNES H S , AGED TWO YEARS. 
 
 July, 1821. 
 
 Dear Agnes, sweet engaging child, 
 
 And must that tender form 
 In infancy, or riper years, 
 
 Become a lifeless worm . ? 
 
 Ah yes ! in time that beauteous frame 
 
 Must wither and decay, 
 And soon or late the threads will break, 
 
 Death seize the fragile clay. 
 
 But should those active little limbs 
 
 To riper years grow up, 
 Still they must one day cease to move, 
 
 Though now thy mother's hope. 
 
 How should thy parents then, dear babe, 
 Teach thee thy Maker's praise ; 
 
 Instruct thy early thoughts to love 
 The Saviour's works and ways. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF 81 
 
 H thou art spar'd, O may the Lord 
 
 Display in thee his pow'r, 
 \nd make thy soul grow up in grace, 
 
 And flourish as a flow'r. 
 
 I long to hear thine infant tongue 
 
 Now lisp his sacred name 
 With awe, and make old sinners feel 
 
 A pungent sense of shame. 
 
 Dear Agnes, when you've learnt to read, 
 
 The Bible make your choice, 
 Us precepts kindly speak to you, 
 
 And you obey their voice. 
 
 .My lovely child, in early youth 
 
 The great Redeemer seek, 
 And shun the things of sense and time, 
 
 The Sabbath holy keep. 
 
 So shall thy youthful days be bless'd, 
 
 Thy aged years have peace ; 
 Thy soul receive a righteous crown 
 
 When brittle life shall cease. 
 
 I've often borne you on my heart 
 
 Before a Throne of Grace, 
 And ask'd the Lord your feet to teach 
 
 The Saviour's steps to trace. 
 
 Your parents too, my prayers have shar'd, 
 
 And shall while I have breath ; 
 God grant that they, and you, and me, 
 
 May all meet after death, 
 
A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Should I not live to see thy form 
 
 To older years spring up, 
 I'll see it bloom, and fairer grow 
 
 On heavenly soil, I hope! 
 
 Dear niece, I seldom see thee here, 
 
 Disorder keeps me home; 
 But soon my Agnes, I shall be 
 
 Where sufferings never come. 
 
 Dear darling child, should you while here. 
 
 The Lord of glory love ; 
 Then you and I shall ever have 
 
 Sweet intercourse above. 
 
 Adieu, sweet babe, receive these lines. 
 
 A token of my care, 
 For your immortal precious part, 
 
 And love for you I bear. 
 
 LONGING FOR THE MILLENIUM 
 
 The glorious day begins to dawn, 
 When the Messiah shall be known 
 Throughout the world— by all ador'd, 
 And every tongue confess him Lord. 
 
 Months swiftly fly, and years move on, 
 Winters and summers haste along ; 
 Ye rolling spheres fast speed your way, 
 And usher in that glorious day. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. S3 
 
 1 long to see Christ's kingdom come, 
 And hear his mighty work is clone 
 In this dark region, as on high, 
 Where" all is peace, and harmony. 
 
 I long to hear the gospel's sound 
 Spread through the earth's remotest bound ; 
 See Satan and his empire fall, 
 And thou, great God, be all in all. 
 
 I pant to see the truth unfurl'd, 
 Wide o'er and round the spacious world ; 
 And the blest hour is drawing near, 
 When all the joyful news shall hear. 
 
 Zion ! with eeal the work pursue, 
 Which God designs through you to do; 
 Fear nothing from malicious hands, 
 Jesus will disappoint their plans. 
 
 Daughters of grace, and sons of light ! 
 Pursue your labours with your might; 
 And when your toils shall cease, your Lord 
 Shall crown vou with a rich reward. 
 
 Rise, rise ye heralds! and go forth, 
 Messiah preach from South to North ; 
 From East to West, his love proclaim, 
 And spread salvation through his name. 
 
 Ye servants of the Lord ! embark 
 For India's shore — that land so dark ; 
 Go — go with bold intrepid feet, 
 Fear nothing on the way you meet. 
 
84 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Be faithful in your Master's cause^ 
 Seek not to gain vain man's applause; 
 Be strong and valiant for your Lord, 
 And He'll fulfil his promised word. 
 
 Jesus, your Captain, will stand near, 
 When dangers press, and storms appear : 
 Boldly the front of battle face, 
 And he will give you conquering grace. 
 
 A FRAGMENT 
 
 3819. 
 
 Come, dear father, (said the youthful Margaret to 
 her aged parent) it is a fine evening, let us go forth 
 and view the setting sun — a walk will perhaps revive 
 your spirits — give me your arm, dear sir, and lean on 
 me. Now, whither shall we direct our course ? sup- 
 pose we stroll on the banks, and thence go down on 
 the sea-beaten shore — how gentle and refreshing the 
 breeze! does it not animate you? Alas! no — I see 
 you are still sad — let me wipe away your tears — put 
 sorrow from your heart — pray do not grieve any 
 more, but if you do, dear father, let it be for sin only 
 ■ — Oh ! do not sink beneath the vicissitudes of life. 
 See, sir, you make me weep too — I sincerely sympa- 
 thize with you — yes, my heart bleeds for your mis- 
 fortunes; your sorrows are my sorrows, but the Lord 
 supports me, my dear father, and I know that all his 
 ways are just and right — he cannot do wrong, how- 
 ever hard his dispensations may seem — perhaps his 
 frowns may, in time, prove blessings in disguise; if 
 so, you will have abundant cause to bless the hand 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 8& 
 
 that now bereaves. Your situation at your age, I 
 know, must be peculiarly distressing — you have not 
 youth on your side to bear up under your numerous 
 trials — but come, my beloved father, cease to weep, 
 and turn your thoughts to other objects— my motive 
 in drawing you from home, was to divert your mind, 
 and here is a scene before us, methinks, sufficiently 
 sublime to dissipate your gloomy thoughts— see what 
 a lovely and magnificent prospect surrounds us — 
 listen to the low murmuring of the gentle waves — 
 how beautifully calculated is every thing here this 
 evening to calm our fears, and inspire us with grati- 
 tude to the great author of our being. Hark, dear 
 sir, how the retiring nightingale and sweet robin 
 pour'forth their softest notes to entertain us, from the 
 adjacent groves— there is no music so melodious be- 
 neath the heavens— all gay, all happy here— univer- 
 sal nature smiles around. Hail, peaceful shades! the 
 
 seat of contemplation and sweet retirement this is 
 
 the place for meditation. Behold creation in her 
 fairest robe, tastily dressed in her richest colours- 
 let us, my dear sir, with admiring hearts, adore the 
 God whose matchless glories shine above, beneath, 
 and all around, whose boundless beauties spread far 
 and near. Here the broken hearted Mandeville fixed 
 his eyes on his poor child, and with a look expressive 
 of his feelings, heaved a sigh, and exclaimed, « Would 
 to God, I possessed a mind like yours!" Margaret 
 affectionately kissed the hand of her beloved parent, 
 saying, if my dear father you see any thing desirable 
 in me, or worthy of imitation, it is God that has given 
 it to me; and if you will love^and believe in his glo- 
 rious Son, he will be bountiful and gracious unto von 
 too. Mandeville groaned. 
 
 H 
 
86 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But see, said the lively Christian, (who knew it 
 would be most judicious to say but little at the time, 
 on serious things, to her unhappy father,) see, dear 
 sir, there is a vessel in sight, let us rest ourselves be- 
 neath this elm tree and wait her arrival, a few; mi- 
 nutes will bring her in — meanwhile, let us contem- 
 plate the beauties of the evening — look towards the 
 west, and behold that glorious luminary, leaving us 
 to hail the inhabitants of another hemisphere — which 
 is the most grand, the rising or the setting sun ? I 
 think the setting sun the most sublime — with me it is 
 the most favourable for meditation. Oh, what a no- 
 ble sight ! how elegantly the sky is painted, and what 
 awe the scenery spreads over the mind ! it raises my 
 thoughts to a higher and more glorious sun. WJiere 
 shall I find language to express my feelings? my 
 thoughts are too big for utterance. Oh ! could I 
 look into the world above, and view the glories there, 
 I am sure my weak powers could not bear the sight. 
 What a sweet emblem is yon refulgent lamp of day, 
 of even a brighter sun — the Sun of Righteousness, 
 the great luminary above, who is the light of heaven 
 and the brightness of Jehovah's glory, and who is 
 worthy to tread beneath his feet yon radiant orb. 
 How beautifully is the horizon tinged with varied co- 
 lours from the reflection of the sun. Art can do 
 much, but nature does much more. How gloriously 
 the works of nature shine, formed by the God of na- 
 ture, and preserved by his Almighty hand. How gra- 
 dually the sun sinks — he's gone ! Oh ! may we, my 
 dearest father, die as calmly, and may our sun go 
 down as clearly — see wJiat a lively hue he leaves be- 
 hind, sure evidence of his real brightness. I hope, 
 sir, that when we come to depart from this life, we 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. M 
 
 may be enabled to leave behind as good a testimony 
 of our being brands plucked from the burning, and 
 true children of God. But the ship is coming in — let 
 as descend to the shore, that we may be nearer to her 
 — what a noble sight is a ship under full sail — the 
 sea is almost calm — how gently she comes ! she re- 
 minds me of some, who smoothly glide down the 
 tide of life, without care or concern, either of this 
 life, or that which is to come ; while others encounter 
 storms and tempests, and are always troubled. Per- 
 haps at this moment, on some part of the Atlantic, 
 there may be vessels tossed hither and thither, by 
 blast and billow, and can find no haven to steer to. 
 Alas ! like many of our poor fellow-creatures, tossed 
 to and fro amidst the changing scenes of life, and 
 know not where to find peace and safety. See, my 
 father, they are pulling down the sails — apparently, 
 how rejoiced the crew are — they have perhaps wea- 
 thered many a gale on their way, and are glad they 
 have reached the destined port — (this zealous child of 
 God knew such comparisons would not be altogether 
 like k{ casting pearls before swine," though her father 
 was not of the " household of faith," she knew he 
 had a contemplative mind, and hoped a blessing might 
 accompany her poor attempts to win her wretched 
 parent's attention to serious things; she therefore 
 went on in a thoughtful strain.) Ah ! so methinks 
 the weary soul, my dear sir, of a true believer, after 
 a life spent in toil and hardship, will rejoice with joy 
 unspeakable, when safely moored in the haven of 
 rest. 
 
 Look, sir, through this glass, and see the sailors 
 joyfully tripping on shore, and hastening to their res- 
 pective homes. " Oh !" cried the animated Margaret, 
 
38 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 (pressing her Father's hand and looking upwards,) 
 " should it be my happy lot to go to Heaven, just so, 
 methinks, I shall hasten over the golden strand to 
 reach my Saviour's mansion, and you too, I hope, sir.'' 
 "May your hopes be realized!" exclaimed Man- 
 deville, sighing — his affectionate daughter breathed a 
 hearty Amen! But is it not time, said she, turning 
 from the shore, to think of returning home? The cool 
 air, and the silver moon call us from this delightful 
 spot — and here is a new scene, still pleasing, still se- 
 rene, and a very favourite one with me. Behold, 
 from the flowery mead pale Cynthia comes ! but not 
 solitary ; she brings with her a shining train. Neither 
 will he who made her come alone when he descends 
 to judge the race of Adam. No — an innumerable 
 company of angels, and just men made perfect 
 through Christ, will attend him down the skies — yes, 
 a glorious shining band will escort the Saviour. How 
 much the moon resembles her Maker ! how fair, how 
 mild, how lucid are her beams. She is the fairest 
 and the most interesting of all the heavenly bodies — 
 but Jesus, the Son of God, is the fairest and brightest 
 of all above the firmament, and all beneath those daz- 
 zling lights— He is the brightness of his Father's 
 glory, and outshines all below, above, and all gran- 
 deur betwixt heaven and earth. But we had better 
 return home, a heavy dew is falling — I hope y*ju will 
 not take cold, my dear father. As she said this, she 
 caught a glimpse of his cheek, which her quick eye 
 perceived from the radiant rays of the moon, to be 
 moistened with the big drops that flowed copiously 
 from his venerable lids — affected by his appearance, 
 she raised her handkerchief, and with a trembling 
 hand wiped his tears, and brushing her own. off, and' 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 89 
 
 breathing a prayer heavenward, said with a benign 
 look — you still weep, my unhappy father — what shall 
 I do to alleviate your anguish ? what shall I say to 
 comfort you ? look from over the gloomy hills of .des- 
 pondency — brood no longer over misfortunes — re- 
 member it is a holy and wise Being that afflicts you — 
 then do not repine at the just dispensations of a gra- 
 cious Providence. " The sorrow of this world work- 
 eth death. " Grieve not, my dear, dear father, for the 
 loss of worldly good, nor despair of being provided 
 for — let the birds who are without storehouse or barn . 
 teach us to trust for our bread — we deserve nothing 
 — nay, if we had what our sins merit, we should be 
 naked and hungry — yes, and cut off from the living, 
 and numbered with those who are without hope. 
 Hell, sir, would be our portion — but God does not 
 deal with us as we most justly deserve — he forbears 
 for his dear Son's sake, and provides for all his crea- 
 tures — and though he often takes away riches, lie 
 does not leave them to starve — it is on account of sin 
 that he visits us with judgments — but mercies are 
 mixed in the bitter cup, which ought to excite our 
 warmest gratitude. Believe in Christ — love him — 
 put jour trust in him, and you shall never want — he 
 is a merciful and bountiful Creator. Oh! dearest 
 father, let nothing give you so much concern as the 
 state of your precious soul, that never, never dying 
 part of man — if you do but obtain an interest in the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, you will be satisfied — you will 
 have enough of all things — gold enough, bread enough, 
 and pleasures you have never yet tasted. Christ, with 
 a crust of bread, is more valuable than the golden 
 wedge of Ophir— -more to be desired than rubies. Oh ! 
 seek for that " Pearl of great price f search for it, 
 
 H 2 
 
90 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 and rest not until you have found it — if you find that 
 one Pearl, it will infinitely more than compensate for 
 the loss of all other things — none that ever sought for 
 it truly, sought in. vain. Go to Jesus-, my father, 
 and cast your soul on him, with all your cares and 
 concerns — leave your burdens and sorrows with him ; 
 he is able and willing to take them from you, if you 
 are truly willing he should — he stands at the door of 
 your heart knocking, " till his locks are wet with the 
 dew,'' crying, open, open. Close it not, dear sir, but 
 open, and give the Son of God entrance, lest he 
 should be weary of knocking. My heart is sorrow- 
 ful for your sake, but Oh ! go to Christ— flee to Jesus 
 —he alone can heal your sorrows — he alone can par- 
 don your sins, and give you peace. 
 
 Just as she had uttered this, they reached the little 
 cottage, to which the unfortunate Mandeville had re- 
 tired to lessen his expenses, and flee the frowns of a 
 once smiling world, Drawing his arm from that of 
 his darling daughter, he rushed into his room, and 
 throwing himself on his knees, sobbed aloud ; " Oh 
 God ! I thank thee for such a treasure as thou hast 
 given me in my inestimable child — the richest jeweJ 3 
 the brightest gem thou couldst have bestowed,'' and 
 for the first time in his life — Mandeville prayed. 
 
 COMPLAINT, &c. UNDER PAIN AND TROUBLE 
 
 February, t816. 
 
 Lord, I am pain'd and sore distress'd, 
 
 Sad scenes afflict my soul ; 
 My mind's with heavy cares perplex'd.. 
 
 How fast my sorrows roll. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 91 
 
 While the poor frame of nature shakes, 
 
 And trembles with disease, 
 Trouble, tumultuous thought, and strife 
 
 Harass, perplex, and teaze. 
 
 But oh ! to thy superior \vilI3 
 
 I cheerfully resign ; 
 And ask to have my feeble thoughts 
 
 All swallow'd up in thine. 
 
 Jesus, put forth thy gentle hand, 
 
 And wipe away my tears, 
 Control my passions, calm my mind, 
 
 And mollify my cares. 
 
 When my poor heart, thro' troubles faint, 
 
 And when my spirit swoons, 
 O Lord apply salubrious balms, 
 
 And heal the bleeding wounds. 
 
 When troubles like the billows swell, 
 
 And toss me to and fro, 
 Thou only canst my terrors quell, 
 
 And bring my spirit through. 
 
 Thou only canst support my frame, 
 
 Beneath this long disease ; 
 My tongue shall speak, and spread thy fame. 
 
 And dwell upon thy praise. 
 
92 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 COMPLAINT UNDER GREAT BODILY PAIN, AND DARK 
 NESS OF MIND 
 
 Greenwich, April, 1815. 
 
 My pains, my anguish, and distress. 
 
 Daily more pungent grow ; 
 My sorrows swell too high for friends, 
 
 They cannot bear my wo. 
 
 They cannot feel my pangs — although 
 
 My suff'ring state they see j 
 To them I make but few complaints, 
 
 Nor burdensome would be. 
 
 Jesus to thee, my heav'nly friend, 
 
 I make my plaintive cry ; 
 My sighs, and groans, and mournful case 
 
 I will direct on high. 
 
 Oh ! God, thou gracious, good, and wise, 
 
 I'll look to thee alone ; 
 My pains and sufferings in the full 
 
 To thee are only known. 
 
 I'm doubly pain'd, my God, amidst 
 
 The agonies of the flesh. 
 Darkness o'erspreads my lab'ring mind 
 
 And heightens my distress. 
 
 What shall I do in this sad hour, 
 
 While God withholds his grace ? 
 Must my poor spirit faint and die 
 
 Beneath his frowning face ? 
 
JOY AND C1RIEF. 93 
 
 My morning sighs, and midnight groans, 
 
 Shall pierce the lofty skies, 
 Shall reach Jehovah's gracious ear, 
 
 And this way turn his eyes. 
 
 Bow a propitious ear, Oh Lord ! 
 
 And hearken to my voice, 
 Midst my distress O turn and smile, 
 
 Then shall my heart rejoice. 
 
 Kindle anew the dying sparks 
 
 In this cold breast of mine, 
 Then will I spread thy mercy round, 
 
 And raise a song divine. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. M. WILKINSON. 
 
 1815. 
 
 Is Mary dead ? Oh ! doleful tidings these, 
 No more on earth, thy lovely face I'll see ; 
 Where shall I go my aching heart to ease? 
 Where shall I find a kinder friend than thee P 
 
 Ah ! little did I think so soon to lose 
 That friend, who sympathiz'd in all my woes ; 
 Death struck the blow, the soul forsook its clay, 
 And flew to regions of eternal day. 
 
 Could 1, dear friend, have held thee in my arms. 
 And joined my tears with thy expiring breath v 
 I'd gaze'd serenely on thy dying charms, 
 And then resign'd thee to the arms of death 
 
94 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But now thy spirit's flown to realms of light* 
 Casting thy crown at thy Redeemer's feet, 
 With saints above in praises now unite, 
 Worthy the Lamb ten thousand times repeat. 
 
 The loss of one so dear, I now must mourn, 
 My kind, my gen'rous, sympathizing friend, 
 To me, alas ! she never will return ; 
 But, oh ! (sweet thought) to her 1 may ascend. 
 
 Then I shall see thee in that glorious dress, 
 The perfect robe of Jesus, righteousness, 
 Mingling thy songs with all the saints on high, 
 Where grief must cease r and death itself shall die 
 
 I long to quit this earth, and soar away, 
 To the bright realms of everlasting day, 
 For yet, I darkly see as through a glass, 
 But then I'll see my Saviour face to face. 
 
 Years, months, and days, in quick succession fly ; 
 Fly round ye wheels of time without delay ; 
 Ye shining orbs that gild the vaulted sky, 
 Roll on your course, and hail the welcome day. 
 
 Till then, dear Mary, dear departed worth, 
 Though often here on earth we've mingled sighs ; 
 Sleep in thy dust till all the dead come forth, 
 Then in thy Saviour's glorious image rise. 
 
 Farewell ! dear friend, now slumb'ring underground, 
 Till thou shalt hear that last loud trumpet sound, 
 " Arise ye Saints, to scenes of glory rise, 
 And reign with Christ your King, beyond the skies.'' 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. ^ 
 
 ALL IS VANITY BUT THE CREATOR 
 
 1814. 
 
 What beauties in my Lord I see, 
 
 What wonders I behold 
 In that dear man who bled for me ; 
 
 The half can ne'er be told. 
 
 But how lukewarm alas am I ; 
 
 How senseless is my heart ; 
 How oft I from, his presence flee, 
 
 And from his ways depart. 
 
 Yet when I seek sublunar joys, 
 
 The things of sense pursue, 
 I always meet with sad alloys, 
 
 No earthly bliss is true. 
 
 Objects that round my heart intwine, 
 
 Lord — leave but half for thee ; 
 But our best pleasures here I find 
 
 Are grief and vanity. 
 
 When I attempt to sip the sweet, 
 
 And taste delicious food, 
 A bitter dose, alas, I meet, 
 
 And evil mix'd with good. 
 
 Be Jesus, ever my delight, 
 
 And my perpetual food ; 
 All else here vanish from my sight, 
 
 All's vanity but God. 
 
M A MEDLEY O* 
 
 My soul is taken in surprise, 
 
 What glories I behold 
 In thee, my dear Redeemer, rise. 
 
 Each moment they unfold. 
 
 Loveliest of all I view thee now, 
 Above or on this sphere ; 
 
 Chief of ten thousand thousands thou, 
 The fairest of the fair. 
 
 COMPLAINING OF HARDNESS OF HEART 
 
 Mount Pleasant, August, 1814. 
 
 1 fear my heart has never loved. 
 
 Nor felt the Saviour's grace, 
 Or I could never set unmoved 
 
 And hear his doleful case. 
 
 Could I his tale of sorrows hear 
 
 And Oh ! so little feel ! 
 Methinks my heart, my mind, my ear, 
 
 Have all become as steel. 
 
 But yet a hope pervades my breast. 
 
 Although so senseless I, 
 That Jesus will reserve a rest 
 
 For me beyond the sky. 
 
 That hope is centered in my God, 
 
 All other hopes are vain ; 
 For nothing short of Jesus' blood 
 
 Can wash the guilty clean. 
 
JOY AP<D GRIEK ¥7 
 
 Thy grace, O Saviour, that alone 
 
 Can penetrate my heart ; 
 Bestow that grace — apply that blood, 
 
 And peace once more impart. . 
 
 I mourn because I cannot mourn, 
 
 Nor closer walk with God ; 
 My spirit sinks, mine eyes become 
 
 An overflowing flood. 
 
 Return, oh God ! once more return 
 
 And give my poor heart ease, 
 O kindly smile upon thy worm, 
 
 And make her tears to cease. 
 
 For I am pain'd and sorely grieved 
 
 For roving as I've done, 
 And fain would I pluck out this heart, 
 
 Could that for sin atone. 
 
 Dear Jesus, whisper to my soul 
 
 And tell me I am thine, 
 For I would sacrifice my all 
 
 To feel thee once more mine. 
 
 BEWAILING IDOLATRY ; 
 
 OR, THE EFFECTS OF TOO DEEP LOVE TO THE CREATURE. 
 
 Break, break my heart, run streams of blood. 
 Weep, weep mine eyes, a purple flood, 
 For sins against a righteous God ; 
 
98 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Against that God whose hand might stretch 
 
 And crush the hell deserving wretch. 
 
 Great God, O what a rebel I 
 
 Must now appear in thy pure eye ; 
 
 Whither, O whither shall I flee, 
 
 To hide my wretched soul from thee ? 
 
 I cannot from thy presence fly, 
 
 For thine Almighty piercing eye 
 
 Can penetrate the darkest night, 
 
 And veil the brighest beams of light; 
 
 Nor heaven nor hell, nor earth nor sea, 
 
 Could screen my guilty head from thee. 
 
 Now does confusion seize my heart, 
 
 For acting such a fiend-like part ; 
 
 Black as my sins, might blackness spread 
 
 Her sable mantle o'er my head, 
 
 To hide me from created light, 
 
 From saints above and angels' sight. 
 
 Oh how it grieves and racks my mind. 
 
 To wound so dear and kind a friend ; 
 
 Had Gabriel told me months ago, 
 
 That I should so facin'rous grow, 
 
 So wand'ring and ungrateful prove 
 
 To a kind parent whom I love, 
 
 I should have staggered, speechless gazed, 
 
 Doubtful listened, and stood amazed ; 
 
 For though the information given 
 
 Were by a messenger from heaven, 
 
 My heart would hardly thought it true, 
 
 But ah ! my weakness now I view : 
 
 Alas ! we know not what we are 
 
 Till left and tried and tempted sore ; 
 
 We're only kept while grace upholds, 
 
 If that's withdrawn the creature falls. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 9» 
 
 Take heed, ye trophies of God's power. 
 You err not in a trying hour, 
 When Satan and the heart combine 
 To lure and strongly tempt your mind; 
 Flee to the cross and seek the Lord, 
 Who can sufficient strength afford ; 
 He'll keep you in the evil day, 
 Should hell e'er tempt your heart to stray. 
 
 without ceasing watch and pray 
 For preservation in the way ; 
 
 When prayer's neglected then we err. 
 And ramble in the broad road far, 
 Oh sad remembrance ! this my case, 
 
 1 slighted much a throne of grace, 
 When my own heart and Satan's rage 
 Together strangely did engage, 
 Against my silly stupid soul, 
 
 Which staggered, err'd and played the fool. 
 
 With Ephraim I have idols made, 
 
 Which makes me tremble and afraid ; 
 
 The Lord has dealt with me like him, 
 
 And justly chastened me for sin ; 
 
 Withdrawn his Spirit, ceased to smile. 
 
 And now lets me alone awhile. 
 
 The mortal objects of my love 
 
 Long drew my thoughts down from above ; 
 
 My heart awhile divided stood 
 
 Between the creature and my God. 
 
 Oh sad reflection, painful thought ! 
 
 To have my heaven born soul thus caught 
 
 By the malicious powers of him, 
 
 The author of accursed sin : 
 
 The recollection makes me groan, 
 
 And spread my sighs before the throne, 
 
30C A MEDLEY OF 
 
 When past offences on me steal.. 
 
 What bitter moments then 1 feel % 
 
 I loathe this crazy clog of flesh, 
 
 That caused my soul to sin afresh, 
 
 And set up idols in God's stead. 
 
 Idols, alas 1 of flesh and blood. 
 
 Bleed, bleed my heart, oh burst mine eyes. 
 
 Let godly sorrows rend the skies, 
 
 And deep remorse to God ascend, 
 
 My dearest but insulted friend 5 
 
 Ah yes, bleed on my sorrows, bleed. 
 
 Nor cease till I my pardon read. 
 
 If Jesus has or will forgive, 
 Never, ob never while I live, 
 Can I forgive my worthless heart, 
 For acting such an insane part. 
 
 Could I consider God my foe 3 
 I might forgive myself, but oh ! 
 When I reflect he is ray friend, 
 And kindly doth my wants attend. 
 Recall to mind the tender name 
 Of father, how it heightens pain, 
 And tenfold adds to my deep shame. 
 Could I his faithfulness distrust, 
 And call his ways severe, unjust, 
 And charge him with inclement laws. 
 I might have some excuse and cause ; 
 But I am still, convinced of treason 
 By sober and enlightened reason, 
 And to enhance my guilt the more, 
 I've grieved the God whom I adore; 
 Broken the precepts I approve, 
 And roused the justice which I love 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 101 
 
 Still higher aggravations rise 
 From my great guilt, and pain mine eyes ; 
 Anc^what gives most confusion is, 
 (I groan when e'er I think of this) 
 I've sinned against unchanging love, 
 Love earth nor hell can never move, 
 Vgainst unbounded goodness sinned ; 
 This thought oft overwhelmns my mind : 
 Horrid ingratitude of mine ! 
 Oh God, thou holy and" divine, 
 What vile returns for love like thine. 
 
 Weep, oh my soul, like Mary weep, 
 And feel like her repentance deep ; 
 Deep, deep contrition seize my heart, 
 \nd feel a Peter's pungent smart ; 
 Like David's roarings so be thine, 
 Till thou art healed by grace divine. 
 
 Bitter remembrance of the past, 
 Will ever make my tears flow fast ; 
 When I recount God's mercies o'er, 
 And special favour heretofore, 
 I stand confounded, blush, and bow 
 In self abasement sad and low. 
 
 I sink now at his glorious feet, 
 And ask to have the lowest seat, 
 And there his goodness I'll repeat. 
 
 Hearken, ye children of his love, 
 \nd ye bright seraphs list above, 
 And hear me tell the love of God, 
 My black ingratitude record. 
 
 When fortune and my health did frown, 
 And strange disorder chained me down, 
 Huge heavy trials sorely pressed 
 And lacerated this frail breast ; 
 
 I 2 
 
102 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 And Satan flung his fiery dart 
 To enhance my wo, to tempt my heart* 
 And aggravate the deep felt smart. 
 The Lord Jehovah near me stood, 
 Vast was his love, his dealings good, 
 He proved my fortress, shield and tower ? 
 And kept me by his mighty power ; 
 Great grace his bounteous hand bestowed 
 And though my sorrows he prorogued, 
 His mercies like a fount o'erflowed. 
 
 When bowed down and grieved for sin, 
 And foes without, and foes within, 
 Harassed, perplexed and raised my fear. 
 Always the Lord my friend drew near : 
 The remembrance now extorts the tear, 
 And makes my baseness fresh appear. 
 
 -Midst indigence and racking pains, 
 He raised me kind and humane friends. 
 Whose worth I value more than gems. 
 
 His clemency in seasons past, 
 When on the troubled billows cast, 
 And tossed by life's tempestuous blast, 
 Was such as made e'en worldlings stare 
 At his great power and special care ; 
 While saints his goodness spread abroad, 
 And pointed sinners to his blood. 
 
 My brutal senses stand confus'd, 
 To think such mercy I've abus'd ; 
 The names of parent and of friend, 
 So high my guilt and terrors blend, 
 Are almost more than wrath would be. 
 Which I so well deserve from thee, 
 'Gainst whom, alas ! I have rebell'd, 
 And have so long my heart withheld ; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 103 
 
 Because it fills my conscience full 
 
 Of black reproaches on my soul, 
 
 And furnishes my melting mind 
 
 With grief, of deep exquisite kind. 
 
 Oh, what a monster I appear, 
 
 Too dread for mortals to come near ; 
 
 Too base for angels to behold, 
 
 Or for the spacious earth to hold : 
 
 Where shall I turn, where shall I stray 3 
 
 From all to hide myself away ? 
 
 If I look up, I am afraid 
 
 The gems of heaven will me upbraid, 
 
 If down the field, their ire will dart, 
 
 Nature will take its Maker's part : 
 
 So all conspire to aggravate 
 
 The sins I've done, the sins I hate. 
 
 My utmost shame I will record ; 
 
 I had inclement thoughts of God, 
 
 O 7 
 
 And murmur'd at his gracious rod ; 
 
 E'en when his mercy brightest shin'd ; 
 
 I at his providence repin'd. 
 
 Sometimes I almost did accuse 
 
 Heav'n with unkindness, to refuse 
 
 To grant my foolish heart its wish 
 
 To share with one his woes and bliss, 
 
 On whom my too fond heart was bent, 
 
 Until a certain strange event 
 
 Banish'd the idol from my eyes, 
 
 To meet no more until we rise 
 
 In that great day, when God shall come 
 
 To judge the world, and seal its doom. 
 
 I long'd to tread forbidden ground, 
 
 Where briers, thorns, and snares abound ; 
 
104 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 I wished for joys that God denied ; 
 Thus basely did my heart backslide : 
 But faithful conscience burnt within, 
 And open'd to my view my sin, 
 
 I sought false pleasures, but my God 
 Rush'd forward and before me stood, 
 And with me as with Balaam fought, 
 And rescued from the ills I sought ; 
 Infinite love, oh boundless grace, 
 That did my roving footsteps trace, 
 And stopp'd me on the dang'rous way, 
 To save me from the miry clay. 
 The joys 1 wish'd, had they been given, 
 They might have been a bar to heaven ; 
 Prov'd in the flesh a pricking thorn, 
 And sorely caus'd my heart to mourn. 
 Amazing goodness, that withheld 
 The baneful bait when I rebell'd, 
 And would have drank the poison in, 
 'Gainst light that warned me not within ; 
 Sweet mercy ! thus to interpose, 
 And save my soul from further woes. 
 
 Oh child of folly, vile miscreant, 
 To be on thine own ruin bent ; 
 Blindly the path to wo pursue, 
 Madly and vainly wish'd it to ; 
 A double debtor now I stand 
 To God's free grace — whose sov'reign hand 
 Pluck'd from the fire the scorching brand. 
 
 Offended God, yet bounteous heav'n, 
 Oh ! can I hope to be forgiv'n ? 
 Hope to enjoy thy smiles again, 
 And call thee by th' endearing name 
 
JOY AND GRIEF 105 
 
 Of benefactor and of friend f! 
 For this my ardent sighs ascend. 
 
 Suffer a worm with thee to plead, 
 Whose heart is almost broke indeed ; 
 Oh! draw me near to thy dear throne. 
 To plead the merits of thy Son ; 
 Whose great obedience did atone 
 For my transgressions, which I own, 
 Are greater than this spacious globe r 
 And higher than the highest orb, 
 Yea, deeper than the boundless sea, 
 More numerous than the fish that play, 
 And they would sink me down to hell, 
 Did not sweet mercy with thee dwell : 
 But oh ! thy grace is greater still, 
 Thy clemency exceeds my ill ; 
 
 Higher than heav'n, stronger than death. 
 
 Its height, its depth, its length and breadth, 
 May not a worm then hope, oh God! 
 
 In thy vast mercy and thy blood, 
 
 For pardon and returning peace, 
 
 And the rich blessings of thy grace ? 
 
 To plead thy past love months ago, 
 
 Does, Lord, but aggravate my wo; 
 
 I'll sue then in my Saviour's name, 
 
 My tongue no longer can refrain, 
 Lo, at thy mercy seat I fall, 
 
 Confess myself most vile of all ; 
 
 More base than brutes that rove the fields. 
 
 The veriest wretch creation yields ; 
 
 Such creature-love I own was wrong, 
 
 But hide not thou thy face so long; 
 
 For tho' I've grieved thee still I love. 
 
 My bleeding heart is fix'd above. 
 
'OS A MEDLEY OF 
 
 My thoughts still soar beyond the sun. 
 
 And hover round a nobler one ; 
 
 My weeping soul still cleaves to heav'n, 
 
 And hopes to have its sins forgiv'n ; 
 
 These longing eyes explore thy face, 
 
 Implore the favour of thy grace, 
 
 And seek celestial smiles again, 
 
 But toil and languish all in vain. 
 
 Why hidest thou so long, oh Lord f 
 
 Wilt thou no ray of hope afford ? 
 
 No glimm'ring beam of cheering light 
 
 To bear me through the irksome night ? 
 
 I cannot live so far from thee, 
 
 Why wilt thou stand aloof from me ? 
 
 My God thou hast not chang'd thy love, 
 
 'Tis I that do unfaithful prove, 
 
 But let my groans thy pity move ; 
 
 For thee I pine, for thee I sigh, 
 
 When wilt thou gracious God draw nigh I 
 
 When wilt thou give my spirit rest, 
 
 And make thy creature once more blest ? 
 
 Or must I heave the fruitless sigh, 
 
 Breathe out my useless life and die, 
 
 Expire beneath thy awful frown, 
 
 And have my sun in clouds go down? 
 
 Forbid, just heav'n, and smile once more, 
 
 Pardon and peace and life restore. 
 
 Oh let thy pow'r and mighty grace 
 Now my enormous sins efface ; 
 For Jesus' sake who dwells in thee, 
 Who groaned and bled on Calvary, 
 And died for sinners such as me, 
 Behold me with a pitying eye, 
 And thy rich blood, oh Lord, apply, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 107 
 
 And bless roe e'er I faint and die. 
 To thee my fainting soul would come, 
 Thro' sin I sigh, and am undone, 
 Nor none can help nor none restore 
 My soul those joys they felt before ; 
 No other pow'r nor smiles but thine 
 Can gladden this sad heart of mine : 
 For thee I pant, for sin I mourn, 
 Return, eternal God, return ! 
 Do not, dear Lord, no more delay, 
 But haste and come ere break of day* 
 Or e'er my baleful eyelids close. 
 Thy kind forgiving love disclose : 
 Supernal joys again restore, 
 And love me freely as before, 
 >Tis all I ask, I want no more; 
 Then shall my throbbing head recline 
 Peaceful beneath thy smiles divine; 
 At morning light thy praise I'll sing, 
 The groves shall with the echo ring, 
 Angels shall hear and saints rejoice ! 
 While I lift up a thankful voice. 
 I'll rather die than e'er again 
 Give cause to put my Lord to pain ; 
 Ah may I never, never live 
 My dearest friend again to grieve ; 
 And oh ! great God, let me no more 
 Make creature idols as before, 
 Nor live e'er to repeat again 
 My vile ingratitude and shame ; 
 Be thou my all in all, be mine, 
 Nor let me know a love but thine. 
 Lord that thou wilt again return, 
 Or hast forgiven a rebel worm, 
 
108 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Sevenfold aggravates my sin, 
 
 And gives this breast a deeper sting. 
 
 But canst thou, Lord, indeed forgive, 
 And let the wretched sinner live I 
 O God of Jacob, Israel's God, 
 My hope alone is in thy blood ! 
 
 Pause 1. 
 
 Blessed Lamb, who did so long forbear, 
 And watched me with a shepherd's care, 
 When dangers did around me threat, 
 And the black fowler spread his net 
 To catch my silly wand'ring feet. 
 
 To thee be praise and glory given, 
 By all on earth and all in heaven ; 
 Praise him my soul ; my heart and tongue 
 All join to raise a grateful song : 
 Praise him through life with every breath, 
 Until my voice be sunk in death ; 
 > Then in celestial strains on high, 
 Where songs immortal never die, 
 Praise him through vast eternity. 
 
 Pause 2. 
 
 Surprising grace ! to interfere 
 When the huge monster did appear, 
 And aim'd his dart and fiery spears, 
 Which filled me with distressing fears ; 
 He tried to crush and sink my soul, 
 But the dear Saviour heard me call, 
 And saved me from the rage of hell. 
 Oh may I recollect his love, 
 And never more ungrateful prove; < 
 Lord, in this bosom ever raise 
 Unchanging love and fervent praise. 
 
JOY AND GRIE* 209 
 
 MOURNING THE ABSENCE OF GOD 
 
 How would my heart with rapture glow, 
 If heaven would smile again, but Oh ! 
 His frowns produce exquisite wo. 
 
 His frowns and just displeasure still 
 My thoughts with grief and horror fill; 
 God's smiles can cure, his frowns can kill. 
 
 In sadness must my muse still sing? 
 Yes ! it must strike a plaintive string, 
 And pensive touch a mournful theme. 
 ^ Come, humble muse, in doleful strains 
 Send up thy thoughts where Jesus reigns, 
 And bears a part in all thy pains. 
 
 Awake, my sorrowing breast, this ev'n, 
 And send thy sad complaints to heaven, ' 
 Whose ear to grief is ever open. 
 
 How long, Oh Lord my God, how long 
 Wilt thou the dismal hours prolong, 
 That so divides my soul apart, 
 And almost breaks my aching heart, 
 Ere thou descend and show thy face, 
 And bless me with new peace and grace ? 
 I mourn thy absence, and the light 
 Which has so long fled from my sight; 
 As the sad turtle mourns her mate, 
 So I go mourning ear' and late, 
 Nor find him whom my soul adores, 
 In vain my eye his face explores; 
 Whither, oh whither shall I rove' 
 To find the object of my love ? ' 
 
 K 
 
110 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 I rise by night and search the street. 
 In hopes my heavenly Lord to meet. 
 But oh in vain his form I seek. 
 
 My soul awakes by break of dawn, 
 And rambles o'er the flow'ry lawn, 
 Hoping to find him in the morn. 
 At noon I 'spatiate the vales, 
 The field's, the gardens, and the groves. 
 But see not him my bosom loves. 
 
 At eve I seek my Lord by pray'r, 
 But still I find his face not there, 
 Then I alas ! almost despair. 
 
 At midnight on my bed I sigh, 
 And heav'nward send a piercing cry, 
 But still it does not bring him nigh. 
 But I will not give up the chase ; 
 I still will seek his hidden grace, 
 Nor rest till I behold his face. 
 
 For tho' he slay me — tho' he hide, 
 My soul shall in his word confide ; 
 His anger will in time subside. 
 
 Tho' now he keeps aloof and frowns, 
 And tho' his anger justly burns, 
 Behind the clouds he hears my mourns 
 
 My soul he will not always chide, 
 Nor always at a distance hide : 
 But when my faith's sufficient tried, 
 
 He'll then return and peace bestow; 
 And cause my longing breast to glow, 
 My heart with joy to overflow. 
 
 Meanwhile in bitterness I'll groan, 
 The groves shall hear the sinner moan, 
 Until the storm be overblown, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. HI 
 
 Nature shall list while I complain, 
 And tell the stars my deep-felt pain, 
 To them repeat my griefs again. 
 
 Ye starry hosts and numerous gems, 
 Far more numerous are my sins, 
 Than your vast mighty shining band, 
 Which do in countless myriads stand ; 
 Were all your bodies joined in one, 
 In one huge mass, and the vast sun 
 Was thrown into the pond'rous sum, 
 The enormous sins of my black soul, 
 If weigh'd, would overbalance all. 
 
 Pause 1. 
 
 My soul no soothing pow'r can find 
 
 To still the horrors of the mind, 
 
 And none the bleeding wound to bind ; 
 
 I'm faint, I'm sick, a fever reigns 
 
 Throughout my heart, my soul and brains. 
 
 And ev'ry nerve and sinew pains. 
 
 Oh where shall I for aid apply, 
 
 While my distemper rages high ? 
 
 Where's a physician in the land, 
 
 Who does my fever understand ? 
 
 Could I the earth's most spacious bound 
 
 Explore, not one could there be found. 
 
 The wisest sage, the greatest skill, 
 
 Could not my sad disorder heal ; 
 
 Nor all the herbs on earth can cure 
 
 Th» racking pains that I endure : 
 
 My sickness lies within my soul, 
 
 And o'er my body has control ; 
 
 Disease is seated in my breast, 
 
 And makes the whole frame feel opprest ; 
 
U2 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 The ag'nies of the flesh is nought 
 
 Compared with sin and painful though! 
 
 My sin sick soul will never find 
 
 A balm on earth to soothe the mind. 
 
 The Balm of Gilead does not grow 
 
 [n this unfertile soil below, 
 
 But blossoms in the heavenly fields, 
 
 \nd ever healing virtue yields. 
 
 And there the great Physician lives, 
 Who without fee all pain relieves : 
 Physician of physicians he, 
 And was from all eternity. 
 His skill is known from age to age.. 
 And his true honour does engage 
 Effectual ointment to prepare, 
 The worst of leproused souls to cure 
 Himself 's a sovereign balm for all 
 Who on his healing name will call; 
 His salve from none he e'er withholds 
 Who bring to him their wounded soul: 
 
 The soul diseased alone can find 
 A sovereign med'cine for the mind 
 In Christ, the contrite sinner's friend 
 
 He only is a remedy 
 For helpless sinners such as me : 
 Jesus, the balm, can soothe and ease 
 And mollify my soul's disease. 
 To whom then should my sick soul go 
 But him — who all its ailings know ? 
 Fain would I to his temple fly, 
 Cast myself at his feet and die, 
 But his word tells me to be still, 
 And patient wait his sovereign will 
 
 \ 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 113 
 
 Pause 2. 
 Christ, the Physician, has the skill 
 To kindly cure, or justly kill; 
 Nought but his precious blood can heal 
 The raging plagues and sores I feel. 
 Christ is the power, and he the sword, 
 That can destroy or life afford'; 
 Pardon and life depend on him 
 Who only can absolve from sin ; 
 On his good will and pleasure 'pends 
 Our comforts, joys, and griefs, and pains : 
 He is the oil, and he the balm, 
 Which heals and gives the mind a calm; 
 And his compassion far extends 
 To those who are his faithful friends ; 
 And they who turn aside from bliss. 
 To them his language is as this : 
 Return, backslider ! oh return, 
 My melting bowels o'er thee yearn ; 
 My soul is grieved to see thee stray 
 A wand'rer from the heavenly way ; 
 Turn from thy follies and repent, 
 Ynd be not on thy ruin bent : 
 And I, e'en I, your sins will blot, 
 And all your crimes shall be forgot. 
 Return, poor rambler, this way fly, 
 Thou hast a faithful friend on high ; 
 Whose mercy ever wooing stands, 
 With gentle words and ready hands. 
 To pardon and thy peace restore, 
 
 And love thee freely as before. 
 K 2 
 
114 A MEDLEY OF ' 
 
 Pause 3. 
 
 Is this the language of a God . ? 
 Then throw, my soul, thy fears abroad 
 His blessed word this language speaks 
 To thee, and thy repentance seeks. 
 Then, oh my God ! thy grace bestow,, 
 That I may deep contrition know ; 
 B3 special prayer I'll seek thy face, 
 Thou God of mercy, God of grace ! 
 Thy clemency at seasons shed, 
 Encourages my guilty head 
 Upwards to lift and supplicate, 
 And humbly at thy throne to wait; 
 And there I'll wait, and there confess 
 My sins and great unworthiness; 
 Again before thy mercy seat, 
 l will thy goodness all repeat ; 
 My base ingratitude relate, 
 And my long woes ingeminate. 
 Yes, here my soul shall set her down, 
 <Nor rise till thou shalt cease to frown. 
 
 COMPLAINT UNDER THE HIDINGS OF GOD'S FACE" 
 
 Here will I sigh the hours away, 
 
 Far from the happy, and the gay ; 
 
 These grassy turfs shall be the bed 
 
 On which I'll lay my restless head ; 
 
 Here will I mourn for all my sins, 
 
 And listen to the flowing springs, 
 
 Whose murmuring sounds with mine accord. 
 
 And fill my soul with sad discord. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 116 
 
 Your sympathizing whispers are 
 More welcome than the evening star, 
 Which has so oft its brightness shed, 
 And kindly cheer'd my wakeful head. 
 
 The village bell tolls — one, two, three, 
 Nocturnal shadows soon will flee, 
 And the bright beams of morning light 
 Break from the east, and pierce the night ; 
 But day and night are one to me, 
 While Jesus' face I cannot see. 
 
 The rosy dawn of morn appears, 
 And finds the mourner still in tears ; 
 Backsliding wretch ! the drops that roll 
 And overwhelm thy barren soul, 
 Are the sad fruits of foolish sin, 
 Of fears without, and fears within. 
 
 But hark ! the robin's note I hear, 
 Ah ! now 'tis sadness to my ear ; 
 Their vocal strains once gave a zest 
 To all the pleasures of my breast : 
 One time, sweet birds, like you I sung, 
 And Jesus was my cheerful song ; 
 The Saviour was my light, and way, 
 My life, and joy from day to day : 
 But O those happy days are o'er, 
 To realize J fear no more, 
 My Lord has long withdrawn his face, 
 Withholds the riches of his grace : 
 The fault is mine, for he's the same ; 
 'Tis me, and only me to blame. 
 But his good pleasure I must wait, 
 Till he sees fit to change my state ; 
 I cannot force his goodness down, 
 But patient wait beneath his frown, 
 
 «-*. 
 
**«! A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Till he shall please to smile again, * 
 And wipe my tears and ease my pain. 
 
 My harp is on the willow hung-, 
 My soul's with grief and anguish wrung. 
 And ever sings the mourner's song. 
 Ah ! hapless change ! oh sad reverse ! 
 Why have I acted so perverse ? 
 
 Come, pretty birds, from yonder vale, 
 And hear me sing my woful tale : 
 And ye, fair groves, and wood-crown'd heaths, 
 Hark how my breast with sorrow heaves, 
 Hear how I pant and sigh for God, 
 And cast my sad complaints abroad : 
 Ye waving boughs, and breezes hush, 
 Drop your high plumes and for me blush. 
 Oh where Shall I my blushes hide, 
 Say — in my Maker's crimson side ? 
 But dreadful thought ! that wound I've prob'd, 
 His glorious side my baseness stab'd ; 
 It bleeds, I gave the shameful blow, 
 Roll down my tears, in sadness flow, 
 Nor cease to weep till this base heart 
 Makes every idol to depart. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 In yon clouds a storm is brewing, 
 
 And ere long will come this way ; 
 Rain is falling, wind is blowing, 
 
 And spread a gloom o'er all things gay. 
 
 Hear the peals of thunder rolling 
 
 O'er the mountain's lofty tops, 
 Hear the lion Boreas howling, 
 
 And would crush the mourner's hopes. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. j 17 
 
 Just now nature was all smiling, 
 But her smiles to gloom are turn'd ; 
 
 And the changing scene is chilling, 
 Though so late with joy it burn'd. 
 
 Once my mind was calm and peaceful, 
 
 Joy was beaming in mine eye, 
 But a tempest black and woful, 
 
 Rose and darkened my bright sky. 
 
 TV mind's sad storms, and storms of nature. 
 
 Press upon my guilty soul; 
 Whither, whither, shall I harbour 
 
 While the roaring thunders roll. 
 
 I will hide in this fair bower, 
 
 From the gale's inclement blast, 
 Till the furious rains be over, 
 
 And the dismal clouds be past. 
 
 Sad dismay, and gloom, and terror 
 
 Seize my weeping, wretched breast; 
 And increasing fears and sorrow 
 
 Leave my weary soul no rest. 
 
 But the dark and dismal even 
 
 With my gloomy thoughts accord ; 
 Not the brightest gems of heaven 
 
 Could one ray of hope afford. 
 
 Yet, beams from the gelden Eden, 
 
 Or the daystar from on high, 
 Would revive this heart, now bleeding. 
 
 And submerge the rising sigh. 
 
118 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But the Saviour he refuses 
 On my cloudy soul to shine, 
 
 \nd to heal my wounds and bruises 
 He at present doth decline. 
 
 Hush, my pensive soul be silent, 
 Lest thou should st offend the Lord. 
 
 Cease thy murmurings, and be pliant, 
 To the sovereign will, of God. 
 
 Thou hast griev'd him with thine idols. 
 
 And must patient bear the rod, 
 Thou didst love too well frail mortals 
 
 And too little lov'd thy God. 
 
 Now be still, and with submission 
 Wait before his awful throne, 
 
 And confess with deep contrition, 
 All the ill that thou hast done. 
 
 HOPE AND FEAR, 
 
 Methinks I see a glimm'ring light. 
 
 It softly steals upon my sight, 
 
 As it advances grows more bright. 
 
 Methinks too Satan's tongue is still, 
 Has the Lord given a bitter pill, 
 And chain'd him lower down in hell? 
 Perhaps so, and has heard my prayer ; 
 My hopes run high and so does fear. 
 When will the daystar from on high 
 Appear, with mercy in his eye p 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. lift 
 
 When will my sun and shield draw near, 
 To light my path, and drown my fear ? 
 
 I see a something like a ray, 
 Sweet index of approaching day ; 
 Now joy and hope pervade my breast, 
 I feel already less oppressed ; 
 The clouds move gradual from my sight, 
 And I behold a beam of light ; 
 My heart misgives, what can it be 
 Which I with hope and trembling see? 
 Should it be God, like Adam I 
 Must from his awful presence fly. 
 But stop ! O whither should 1 go, 
 To hide from him who all things know ? 
 And will, if he approaches here, 
 With pardon and mild words appear; 
 Then stay, my soul, his voice to hear. 
 
 How shall I answer when he meets 
 The blushing wretch, and kindly speaks ? 
 His gracious looks I ne'er can stand, 
 These leaves I'll o'er my face expand, 
 My vile frame prostrate on the ground, 
 Nor while he speaks mine head turn round ; 
 I long, but dread to meet my friend, 
 Kind words would overwhelm my mind. 
 
 Again celestial light breaks forth ; 
 Cover my head, oh spacious earth ! 
 He comes, his gentle steps I hear, 
 1 feel his presence drawing near ; 
 I long to fly to his embrace, 
 And with my tears bedew his face ; 
 Kiss his dear hands, and in his side 
 My guilty scarlet blushes hide ; 
 
120 A MEDLEY OF ' 
 
 But icci a pungent sense of sin 
 Working with hind'ring pow'r within. 
 
 Pause 1. 
 It is, it is the Lord I see, 
 He comes on wings of love to me ; 
 I hear his kind and soothing voice, 
 It makes my throbbing heart rejoice ; 
 I'll run and galze upon his charms. 
 And hail him welcome to my arms. 
 He comes in mercy and in peace, 
 I see it pictured in his face ; 
 My fears are vanquish'd, faith is bold, 
 And I his face can now behold, 
 And meet him with a grateful eye, 
 \n humble heart, and contrite sigh. 
 Come, thou insulted friend, draw near 
 
 And kiss away the burning tear ; 
 
 Come and relieve my aching heart, 
 
 And heal the plagues that make it smart. 
 
 Already, Jesus, I begin 
 
 To feel thy pardoning love within • 
 
 I hear thy glorious grace reply, 
 
 " My pard'ning blood I will apply :' ? 
 
 Its gentle whispers reach my soul, 
 
 And says, " I do forgive thee all." 
 Amazing mercy ! gracious pow'r ! 
 
 That does appear in this sad hour ; 
 
 Oh wond'rous goodness, love divine ! 
 
 That heals this bleeding heart of mine. 
 
 Transporting moment, happy morn ! 
 
 Is this that brings my pardon down ; 
 
 Whene'er I praise, whene'er I pray, 
 
 Oh may I ne'er forget this day : 
 
JOT AND GRIEF. 12 i 
 
 Ucept now Lord my humble praise, 
 And guide me safe through all my ways. 
 Lord let my lubric feet no more 
 Backslide, as they have done before ; 
 And when thou dost my soul chastise, 
 May I thy chast'nings learn to prize ; 
 And songs of praise arise to thee 
 For thy kind care, and love for me. 
 Rebuke me, O thou righteous God, 
 With gracious stripes and gentle rod. 
 And turn me in the heavenly road, 
 
 THE HAPPY CHANGE. 
 
 Great God, O what a change is this ! 
 
 From wretchedness to rapturous bliss ; 
 
 A few dark fleeting hours ago, 
 
 My breast was laden with sharp wo ; 
 
 But thou hast made the weight disperse, 
 
 O sweet revulsion, bless'd reverse ! 
 Night shades now flee, the clouds have fled, 
 
 The storm no more beats o'er my head • 
 
 Aurora wakes— auspicious dawn, 
 Welcome, ye cheering beams of morn, . 
 After a night so sad and long. 
 
 The tempest also of my soul, 
 Has ceas'd its thund'ring peals to roll, 
 He who hath still'd the stormy night, 
 And usher'd in the morning light 
 Hath also clear'd my dismal sky/ 
 And rais'd my drooping head on high : 
 The Saviour's vital rays now dart 
 New life and vigour in my heart. 
 
122 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 The storm is hush'd, my soul is caim'tl 
 With rural scenes again I 'm charm'd ; 
 The Lord my mind can reconcile 
 To all things, if himself doth smile. 
 
 I view them now with new delight, 
 God, and the morning, drown the night ; 
 He's kiss'd my melting tears away, 
 And turn'd the long night into day. 
 His presence radiates my sight, 
 And makes the darkness shine as light : 
 Now weal or wo is all the same, 
 Since Jesus smiles on me again. 
 Yon rising sun attracts mine eyes, 
 And O, once more the azure skies, 
 The birds, the beasts, the groves, the fields, 
 And flowery meads true pleasure yields ; 
 For in them all I see my God : 
 How beauteous are his works abroad ! 
 As glorious are his works of grace 
 Wrought upon Adam's fallen race ; 
 His works all bright and perfect stand, 
 Finish'd by an almighty hand ; 
 And none can add, nor from them take. 
 Nor make such works as God can make. 
 
 Hail ! lovely shades and pleasing scenes^ 
 Where God in silent splendour reigns ; 
 Gayly again I rove your walks, 
 And on my Saviour 'muse my thoughts. 
 
 Ye laughing valleys, smiling hills, 
 Ye verdant lawns and whispering rills, 
 Ye singing orbs, and warbling train, 
 With you I'll join in praise again. 
 
 Come, tuneful birds, and swell your throats^ 
 And chant aloud your highest notes ; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 123 
 
 My heart with yours is tun'd, to join 
 To raise to God a song sublime. 
 
 Pj 
 
 \USE. 
 
 Did I alone this planet rove, 
 
 Bless'd with my Jesus' smiles and love, 
 
 My happy breast no void would feel, 
 
 For Christ my spacious thoughts would fill. 
 
 But could I climb where angels meet, 
 And tread the sun beneath my feet, 
 And 'spatiate the heavenly plain, 
 And with the shining armies reign; 
 
 If Jesus did not grace the hn:.d, 
 If HE amidst us H^ not stand, 
 Oh what would heav'n and angels be 
 To such insatiate souls as me ? 
 
 Not heaven with all its sumptuous fare, 
 If the Redeemer was not there, 
 Could one small ray of joy aiford 
 Within the breast that loves the Lord. 
 
 But oh, delightful thought is this ! 
 God is the Author of all bliss, 
 From everlasting, and will be 
 Throughout a vast eternity. 
 
 Adieu, ye sweet transporting scenes, 
 Ye tranquil shades, and silver streams, 
 I leave your haunts awhile, and go 
 To mix again with man below. 
 
124 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But I your paths will often stray. 
 To join the songsters' sacred lay ; 
 Oft rove your still Elysian groves, 
 And sing of him my bosom loves. 
 
 PRAISE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS OF GOD'S GOODNESS, 
 
 Pr the Lord, 'tis good to praise 
 
 *" love abroad ; 
 V "oes raise, 
 
 Praise him my sou* 
 
 O bless and praise his n<*. 
 For past support in trying hours 
 
 Of bitterness and pain. 
 
 To God I cried, he heard my prayer, 
 
 And run to my relief, 
 When pressed by sin, and bowed with care. 
 
 And cruel unbelief. 
 
 He made the tempter to depart, 
 
 And raised my drooping soul: 
 He brake my adamantine he? 
 
 And made my sins as w 
 
 Confess your sins. _, saints. 
 
 And call upo» 
 He hears the mom. .en he prays., 
 
 He never cries in v»«in, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 125 
 
 What shall I render to thy name 
 
 For favours so divine ? 
 Lord, take my wretched wicked heart, 
 
 And make it wholly thine. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 My sins were great, to God I cried, 
 
 And waited at his throne ; 
 He heard my prayers, and healed my wounds. 
 
 Sent peace and pardon down. 
 
 I'll now make known his heavenly skill, 
 
 The worth of his rich blood ; 
 A.nd point poor sinners to his cross, * 
 
 To find a pardoning God. 
 
 ¥e sin-sick souls to Jesus flee 
 
 For refuge, grace, and peace; 
 He only can your sins efface, 
 
 And give the conscience ease. 
 
 TO ROSAMOND, 
 
 On her departure for England, 
 
 June, 1811, 
 
 Dear, dear aunt, and must we sever ? 
 
 Yes awhile we're doomed to part : 
 Then farewell ! but ever, ever 
 
 You shall live in this fond heart 
 
12S A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Tho' the rolling seas divide us, 
 And we never more should meet, 
 
 Still you my warmest thoughts shall share. 
 While my throbbing pulse shall beat 
 
 Oh I I will kindly think of you, 
 When the stars their lustre shed ; 
 
 Or when the rising sun I view, 
 
 And the silver moon-beams spread- 
 
 Ev'ry kindness I'll remember, 
 Meditate past pleasing scenes ; 
 
 Thejoy of meeting be the subject 
 Of my summer ev'ning dream?, 
 
 Then to heaven send my wishes. 
 
 And to God put up a prayer 
 To conduct you safe to Britain, 
 
 And watch o'er your life while there* 
 
 Heaven protect you on the ocean, 
 May the gales auspicious blow; 
 
 And in danger may the angel 
 
 Save you from the threat'ning wo 
 
 When you retire sometimes at ev y n, 
 From the gay and busy scene, 
 
 Think of her who loves you dearly. 
 And feels the separation keen. 
 
 Oft shall I, while you are absent, 
 Waft my sighs across the sea ; 
 
 On the wings of love and fancy 
 Mount and speed my way to thee. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 127 
 
 Say — will not you my lovely friend, 
 When you've seen your native shore, 
 
 Haste o'er the towYuig waves again, 
 
 And leave your anxious friends no more? 
 
 Yes, O yes, when that's accomplished, 
 Which hath torn you from my heart, 
 
 Then return and never leave me, 
 Till by death we're forced to part. 
 
 Now then go where duty calls you, 
 
 And our kind and gracious Lord 
 Bless your worthy undertaking, 
 
 And the noble deed reward. 
 
 May the husband who escorts you s 
 
 Be protected on his way ; 
 He shall share my ardent wishes 
 
 For his safety night and day. 
 
 I'll remember oft his kindness, 
 
 When I languished sick abed ; 
 And invoke for heav'nly blessings 
 
 To descend upon his head. 
 
 
 TRANSCRIPT OF A LETTER TO MRS. H. G- 
 
 1815. 
 
 How true, my dear Harriet, is that proverb of So- 
 lomon, which says, "jealousy is as cruel as the 
 grave." Alas! it is indeed. What shall we compare 
 pride to ? May it not be said of pride, as it is of glit- 
 
12& A MEDLEY OF 
 
 tering dust being the root of all evil; for certainly 
 pride is. And pride and jealousy are akin, and it is 
 no wonder the one is cruel and the other destructive, 
 when these baneful passions first originated in Satan : 
 he first felt the flame ; he beheld the Creator to be su- 
 perior, preferred and honoured before himself and all 
 seraphic beings, and so looked upon him with an evil 
 and envious eye, and stretched himself to be greater 
 than God ; and had he had strength equal to his 
 malice, he would no doubt have dethroned him, and 
 have taken possession of his throne and glory. Thus 
 were those horrid passions, pride and jealousy, kindled 
 first in the fallen angels, and alas ! have been handed 
 by them down to Adam's posterity. 
 
 Yes, jealousy is indeed cruel, my dear H ; h 
 
 arrows are aimed at me, and have wounded me not a 
 little, because they come from a quarter that I do not 
 deserve. Would you believe that some (whose names 
 I forbear to mention) aggravatingly sport with my 
 feelings, and deride because necessity obliged me to 
 make known a certain thing to a bosom friend, which 
 you have knowledge of. What could I do ? there was 
 no alternative ; that must be done, or, something much 
 more painful and delicate must have transpired. I 
 chose the lesser one, and on their account. The same 
 persons also ridicule me for my religion : ought they 
 not rather to rejoice that I have such a constant and 
 firm support beneath my complicated afflictions? 
 Pride and jealousy are the occasion of this unfeeling 
 conduct. I am highly blessed with friends, therefore 
 envied by some unhappy dispositions. I truly pity 
 such characters, and bless God that I can most hearti- 
 ly pray for them. At first, from a continuation of 
 this unpleasant derision and indecorous treatment, I 
 
JOY AND GRrEF. 129 
 
 felt pained and galled, but it does not now in the least 
 discompose me ; perhaps were I to make the inquiry, 
 I might find more like minded, and those who wo^lcl 
 exult at my misfortunes; but it gives me no uneasi- 
 ness now. The wise, the feeling, and the most wor- 
 thy part of mankind would condemn such principles. 
 I consider poverty no disgrace, where it has not been 
 brought on by indolence and imprudence. Had I my 
 health as formerly, nothing would be more grateful 
 to my feelings, than to engage in some active employ- 
 ment for my support; and it would be the joy of my 
 heart to be able to assist my unfortunate parents ; but 
 the Lord does not see fit to restore the blessing of 
 health, but he raises me many friends out of all de- 
 rivations of Christians, aSci out of the world too. 
 1 eel now as though I was done with all things here, 
 and could patiently wait until 
 
 God bids me drop this tenement of clay, 
 And mount and soar to everlasting day 5 
 Where envy, malice, sorrow, sin nor pain 
 Shall never grieve nor cross this breast again, 
 
 I know that you will rejoice to hear me say, that I 
 am happy, very happy amidst all my sufferings. The 
 only pangs I feel are for my dear kindred, but even 
 in this I am able to look to God, and bear the trial 
 with much resignation. It is God, I cry, that reigns, 
 and am still ; and though at times I weep for them, 
 I trust I do not murmur. 
 
 Yes, Harriet, never was I more happy than now; 
 I never experienced such sensible comforts and out- 
 pouring of the Lord's Spirit before; my cup of joy 
 is full ; nature could not bear any more without a mU 
 
130 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 racle ; grace superabounds, and daily heightens my 
 ecstasies. You see, my dear friend, that God can make 
 tribulation sweet to the soul : sanctified afflictions are 
 preferable to unsanctified prosperity. I am the child 
 of affliction, driven to and fro by adverse winds: I 
 have some foes ; but that ought to be a matter of no 
 regret, for were that not the case, I should have rea- 
 son to fear all was not right. All the children of God 
 have their enemies more or less; but we ought to be 
 careful that we do not give occasion to make foes, for 
 if we do, it is not suffering for Christ's sake, but for 
 our own folly and imprudence; and therefore are de- 
 serving of it. But though I have enemies, the Lord 
 be praised, grace, that noblest power, bears me up 
 through all that the enemies of the cross can say or 
 do ; and the inimitable Jesus, the meek and exalted 
 Saviour, enables me to soar above all mortal con- 
 tempt ; his blessed word and example teaches me to 
 rise superior to the trifling occurrences of life. His 
 own noble Spirit, when surrounded with a terrestrial 
 body, soared above all mortal contempt, though at 
 the same time bore it with patience and humility; not 
 returning railing for railing, but seeking continually 
 
 to do good for evil. It is my desire, my dear H ? 
 
 to imitate his glorious example, and may strength be 
 given me so to do! 
 
 Jesus, my great high Priest above, has experienced 
 these things in the full, and knows how to sympathize 
 with his people in every situation, and does; he sweetly 
 whispers, submit patiently and bear the sneers and 
 frowns of the ungodly while in the flesh, the conflict 
 will soon cease, and then you shall rise triumphant 
 over all enemies. The word of God is my comfort 
 
JOY AND GRIEF !3l 
 
 and support; through grace I am enabled to exclaim 
 with the sweet poet, 
 
 " I now can smile at Satan's rage, 
 And face a frowning world." 
 
 If the glorious Son of God was not exempt from 
 human indignities, ought I to expect to be, or to com- 
 plain under them? " Is the servant greater than his 
 Lord ?" Be thou exalted, oh my God ! and me abas- 
 ed: the insults offered to thee; thy unparalleled suffer- 
 ings, and the reproaches that were cast at thy teeth, 
 were all unmerited, for thou wert holy, blameless^ 
 and without sin; but I am a guilty, fallen being' 
 and deserve to encounter the ills of this chequered 
 life. O let me glory in tribulation, let me rejoice 
 that I am thus favoured to bear a part in the Sa- 
 viour's woes. 
 
 Ah! sneer and laugh on, O ye pitiable objects, ye 
 despisers of Jesus ; but know, that I can laugh supe- 
 rior to you; I can look up and call God my Father, 
 and heaven my eternal inheritance, and smile through 
 a tear at the blessed prospect of one day (not far dis- 
 tant) being translated to those beatific regions, where 
 my heavenly Father dwells. Though through an- 
 guish now I sometimes weep, yet I have joys and so- 
 lid pleasures ye know nothing of; would to God ye 
 did ! In a little while I shall be removed from your 
 sight, to rejoice evermore at the right hand of God, 
 and enjoy that inheritance which is laid up in reserve • 
 an inheritance far more desirable and valuable than 
 all the kingdoms of the earth. I would not give up 
 even the hope I have of future joys, for ten thousand 
 of your worlds ; no, I would not indeed part with the 
 
134 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 delightful hope which the Lord has radicated in this 
 breast for gold nor silver, houses nor lands, thrones 
 nor crowns, nor even for precious health, which is 
 dearer to me than all. I. envy not the 'most exalted 
 monarchs on earth, nor they who possess tides and 
 wealth ; if my eye is envious toward any, it is they 
 who lay lowest in the valley of humiliation, they who 
 walk nearest to God. 
 
 But pardon this digression, I have been indulging 
 the warmth of my feelings without consideration — 
 you, I am afraid, will be tired of reading this tedious 
 scroll, and I shall suffer for being so prolix ; therefore 
 1 will draw towards concluding; though, dear Har- 
 riet, I cannot close, without first observing, that I am 
 an entire debtor to sovereign grace for my present 
 state of mind, and for the salvation of my soul; and 
 allow me to acknowledge that many thanks are due 
 to yourself for introducing me to our worthy Pastor. 
 
 To you, my dear friend, Mr. Maclay, and Walk- 
 er's Letters, he. I stand deeply in debt, under God. 
 for my unspeakably happy state in Christ. When 
 I was endeavouring to accomplish my salvation 
 by works, you used that candour which is the duty 
 of every Christian to evince, and, under peculiar 
 circumstances, kindly spoke a seasonable word : you 
 told me that I was not acquainted with my heart; that 
 I was deceiving myself; that though I was moral, my 
 nature was totally depraved; and, that no moral 
 worth could possibly recommend me to the favour of 
 God, These observations, which I heard with atten- 
 tion and gratitude, (knowing you to be my real friend, 
 and thought highly of me) sunk deep in my heart, 
 and brought on a train of reflections which happily 
 terminated in a concern for my soul; a concern. I 
 
JOY AND GRIl;h i33 
 
 trust, that was real. This piece of faithfulness and 
 freedom lias endeared you more than ever to my 
 heart: we seldom see each other here, but the friend- 
 ship which has been long growing below, will, I trust, 
 increase, and be perfected above; where there shall 
 be no bar to intercourse, nor alio}' to our pleasures. 
 Come soon, if you can, and see me — pray for me. — 
 Yours inviolably, 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 TRANSCRIPT OF A LETTER TO MRS. M. W . 
 
 Were it not, my dear friend, that I am well as- 
 red you are incapable of descending to flattery, I 
 jfcould now be inclined to think it was the case, from 
 mmne expressions dropped in your last letter; but I 
 will not for one moment suppose you could possibly 
 assume the character of a sycophant : no, my dearest 
 Mary, I know you too well even to entertain the most 
 distant idea of your being given, in the least degree, 
 to that abominable practice. But you must allow me 
 to say, that I think your partiality for me sometimes 
 induces you unintentionally to greatly overrate my 
 abilities. I do not doubt but you think as you say, 
 respecting my writing with ease, &c. &c. neither do I 
 question your judgment, (where friendship is not con- 
 cerned) for I know it to be superior in most things; 
 but in this case I cannot allow you to be a judge.' 
 Love, you know, can cover a multitude of faults ; and 
 friendship frequently overvalues merit. One thing 1 
 know, I am never satisfied with my own compoistion. 
 
 You and sister C both have too exalted an opi- 
 
 M ] 
 
134 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 nion of ray abilities ; she is very extravagant in her 
 encomiums. In fact, dear M — , she thinks that I have 
 no defects, either mental or practical ; the dear girl 
 means, I know, what she says. You well know that 
 she is too candid and ingenuous to speak what she 
 does not think. Sincerity is a very striking and no- 
 ble trait in her character — indeed, she carries her can- 
 dour so far sometimes as to be injudicious.- 
 
 You see how blind a passion love is ; yet she is un- 
 commonly penetrating : but could she behold me with 
 impartial eyes, she would soon discover ray many im-- 
 perfections ; or had she much experience of the frail- 
 ties of depraved nature, she could not help but dis- 
 cern my failings ; she is quick to discern them in her- 
 self, and many others whom she loves, but she is sin- 
 gulary attached to me, and on that account does not 
 easily perceive my faults. Alas ! there is not a day 
 that passes, but what I have much cause to lament my 
 deviations from the path to bliss, and to repent of sins 
 both of omission and commission ; there is not an hour 
 that vanishes, but what I might truly exclaim with the 
 poet, 
 
 " How are my follies multiplied 
 
 Fast as my minutes roll.'' 
 
 But enough on this subject. I will now endeavour, 
 as far as my feeble powers will admit, to give you my 
 thoughts on the subject which you have requested, viz. 
 which, I think,' is the highest crime in the sight of 
 God?— and then conclude by giving yon the little his- 
 tory of myself which you desire. 
 
 That crime which is too great to be pardoned must 
 be the blackest, the most dreadful, and aggravating 
 in the pure sight of a holy God ; all other sins may 
 be forgiven but that of the " sin against the Holy 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. !35 
 
 Ghost," for which our Lord tells us there is no mer- 
 cy, no pardon. This awful, unpardonable crime we 
 must conclude then stands highest. 
 
 Next to that, in my opinion, idolatry is the crime 
 which is most offensive and henious before God. We 
 find that the divine Being denounced greater judg- 
 ments upon the Israelites for this crime, than for any 
 other; though when they repented and put away their 
 idols, and sought the true God again, he was merciful 
 to forgive them their treason, and heal their back- 
 slidings. All sins are an abomination in the sight of 
 God, but some are of a much more offensive nature 
 than others, and this is one that excites his just indig- 
 nation sooner, perhaps, than any. When Nebuchad- 
 nezzar, king of Babylon, was lifted up and went after 
 other gods, the kingdom was rent out of his hand, 
 and his heart was made as the heart of a beast ; he 
 was driven from men, and did eat grass as oxen ; his 
 body was wet with the dew, his hair grew like eagles' 
 feathers, and his nails like birds' claws. Thus was the 
 fierce wrath of the Lord upon him, for a certain pe- 
 riod, for his dreadful rebellion. 
 
 In the night on which Belshazzar had been wor- 
 shipping and praising images of gold and silver, the 
 ire of God was kindled against him, and he fell a sa- 
 crifice to the great Jehovah's hot displeasure. Ten 
 thousand instances, indeed, we have of the vengeance 
 oi God falling on the heads of idolatrous worshippers. 
 But it is not only on the heathen nations that the 
 curses of heaven are threatened fortius sin It is not 
 only the barbarian, and the savage that are guilty of 
 this woful. crime ; but all the nations of the earth, 
 more or less, commit this sin, and provoke a righteous 
 God to anger. Even we, my dear M— . who have 
 
136 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 reason to hope that we have been enlightened in the 
 things of God, and have had fortastes of the joys of 
 heaven, are very guilty in this respect. As for my- 
 self, alas ! I stand truly condemned before my Maker, 
 for I have been guilty of this crime in a high degree. 
 It is not only the worshipping of images, beasts, and 
 insects that makes us idolaters, for we can make an 
 idol of any thing by setting our affections too deeply 
 upon it. It has been my sin and misfortune to rivet 
 my feelings too deeply on mortal objects'. I remem- 
 ber a wise friend of mine once said to me, " your 
 greatest failing is to love the creature too well, and 
 you will be chastened for it." I have sensibly expe- 
 rienced the justness of this observation, for I have 
 truly been chastised since by the prickings of a guilty 
 conscience, which for years sorely wounded me. 
 
 The Lord has justly dealt with me, as he did with 
 Ephraim when he was "joined to idols," by letting 
 me alone for a season, till he at length brought back my 
 treacherous heart, and again fixed it on his own glori- 
 ous self. It is said that he offended the Lord most 
 bitterly ; alas ! alas ! and thus did I in more than one 
 instance. I well remember, and with painful recollec- 
 tion, once to have set my heart upon a dear relative 
 so greatly, as to have hoped rather to perish with him 
 if he was not saved, than go to heaven without him; 
 I thought I could not be happy in heaven, if he was 
 in misery. Was not this preferring the creature be- 
 fore the Creator ? But this sin was committed in ig- 
 norance ; it was before I had right views of the cha- 
 racter of God and myself, and may not be counted 
 so black as a crime of the same nature which 1 have 
 since been guilty of: for I have, (and shame to tell) 
 since I have professed to love God, made an idol of 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 137 
 
 an object that robbed the Lord of his right and place 
 in my breast — not that I forgot God, nor was his fear 
 wholly taken from my heart ; for though I fervently 
 loved the object, it was not without being conscious 
 of the wrong I did God, in having my affections so 
 weaned from himself, and so deeply rooted on the 
 creature. I loved the creature but it was with ten 
 thousand pangs, and never did I display such weak- 
 ness in any instance in my life before nor since ; nor 
 never did I find my heart so given to murmuring and 
 rebellion against God, nor in any circumstance com- 
 mit so much sin ; for the object was severed from me 
 under painful circumstances, which caused me sinful- 
 ly to repine: and yet heaven was working all things 
 for my good. Had my desire been granted, it is 
 probable it might have proved a thorn in my flesh. 
 So vile and mad was I at one period, that I felt as 
 though I would almost as soon lose heaven as the 
 transient pleasure I had in view. At the time, on re- 
 flection, I thought that I was singular in this idea; 
 that no one ever had been so base, as to think that 
 they could give up so holy and lovely a being as God, 
 for the sake of possessing any thing as frail as myself 
 for a kw poor fleeting years ; but I have since found 
 that I was not peculiar in this — it is a more common 
 case than I thought, even among Christians — but ah « 
 it meets with its punishment, and the worst of punish- 
 ment— which is, a guilty conscience and a wounded 
 spirit: for as it is the foulest crime, it requires the se- 
 verest rod, and gives the deepest stings. Oh ! my 
 dear Mary, how ought we to guard our hearts against 
 making idols ; since it not only implants such pungent 
 thorns in the breast, but, what is still worse, it does, 
 
 M 2 
 
138 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 such injustice and dishonour to God, who exacts and 
 has a right to the undivided affections of his crea- 
 tures. 
 
 This latter piece of idolatry is thrice as base as the 
 former, because it was done against conscience, light 
 and reason. There is nothing now that I dread so 
 much as making creature idols ; for I know my weak- 
 ness where I am attached, let it be to a friend, a rela- 
 tive, or even an infant. My heart too closely entwines 
 round theirs. It is my ardent prayer that I may be 
 kept from idolizing the creature any more, and I hope 
 that the Lord will preserve me. I have now given 
 you my humble opinion on the subject you made re- 
 quest. I will now answer your other question of, 
 " why it was that I did not receive a liberal educa- 
 tion ■?." and with brevity, or I am sure I shall tire you 
 with my loquacity. I was young when we came to 
 America, and my father was disappointed on his first 
 arrival ; every thing being so different in this country 
 from what he had been led to expect, and accustomed 
 to in England, that he could not settle himself at all 
 for the first few years, and, therefore was constantly 
 on the eve of returning ; and my education, at least 
 the most material branches, was to be deferred till we 
 returned. The first plain rudiments I partly received 
 in England, and partly here ; for I went to school ir- 
 regulary during this unsettled state for that purpose. 
 After a length of time, my father was over persuaded 
 by some merchants in New-York, to settle in this coun- 
 try, and speculate with his property ; which he did, 
 and to his sorrow ; for in a few years he lost an ample 
 fortune. In the mean time, his family increased ; 
 good domestics were scarce ; and I being the oldest 
 
JOV AND GIUEF. 139 
 
 daughter, made it somewhat necessary for me to take 
 an active part in family concerns, and the care of the 
 infant branches of the family greatly devolved on me ; 
 besides various other domestic concerns were left to 
 my charge, which gave me none or very little time 
 for my studies ; therefore those parts of education 
 which are most necessary to qualify a woman for re- 
 fined life ; to make her shine in society, in conversa- 
 tion, or with the pen, were neglected altogether ; and 
 so constantly was my time occupied in domestic con- 
 cerns, that I had little or no advantages from reading, 
 or from mixing with the society of the learned. I have 
 never read histories, or any other works of much con- 
 sequence ; as for writing, I was seven years once with- 
 out using a pen ; which was the period from the time 
 I left school till my health fled. When that became 
 so impaired as to disable me from attending to domes- 
 tic aflairs, I then had sufficient time to attend to the 
 improvement of my mind ; but such was the nature 
 of my disorder, as not to admit of it ; any thing that 
 required attention and memory I found exceedingly 
 prejudicial to my health. In fact, were I to apply my- 
 self to any thing of a studious nature, I should in time 
 become insane ; that I feel assured of. I write more 
 than any thing else, though this is injurious ; yet not 
 like those things that require study. I write fast 
 and my ideas generally flow quick, too quick some- 
 times, and force me to lay down the pen, because 1 
 have not strength to commit them to paper when they 
 come with such a numerous train. Whatever fatigues 
 me heightens my indisposition, and you know my 
 brain is in a dreadful weak state. 
 
 It has been a great disadvantage to me, my dear 
 M j not to be able to bear the hearing of books 
 
140 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 read, any more than to read, during my affliction. I 
 sometimes have taken up a few choice authors, and 
 read a sentence here and there, but it left nothing 
 more than the savour behind. My memory is so af- 
 fected, or rather my head, that I can scarcely retain 
 any thing I read. 
 
 You see that I have had but few advantages in my 
 life: it is eisrht vears since I have been inside a 
 church, and not six times during that period have 1 
 heard the sound of prayer. My privileges have been 
 but few, but I have reason to lament that what few 
 I have had I have not improved as I ought. I 
 have to thank the precious Bible for my sentiments, 
 and if there is any thing you see in me worthy of 
 praise, it proceeds purely from the natural gifts be- 
 stowed by my Creator ; and not unto me, but unto 
 Him, the praise and credit are due. I am truly sen- 
 sible what little knowledge I have has been given by 
 the Spirit of God, and unto him may the glory re- 
 dound. Paper fails, and I am almost overcome, so 
 adieu, my dear friend, and throw the mantle of love 
 over all the imperfections of your truly affectionate 
 
 and grateful 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 LETTER TO MISS M. R Y. 
 
 ^Greenwich, 1315. 
 
 Dear Maria, 
 I still weather the storm ; and to the astonish- 
 ment of many, as well as to myself, the poor fabric 
 of nature receives such repeated shocks from the un- 
 ruly blasts of this boisterous life, that I am amazed 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 141 
 
 the building stands so long: but he who erected it is 
 infinitely able to preserve the foundation, until the ap- 
 pointed time for it to take its fall and moulder into 
 dust, from whence it first was raised. What this frail 
 body suffers is known only to him who fashioned it. 
 Persons coming in occasionally, and spending an 
 hour with me, unless they find me in fits, or very ill 
 after coming out of them, can form no idea of the 
 nature of my disorder, or what I endure; nor even 
 then, indeed. People must be some time under the 
 roof with me, to form any true conception of my dis- 
 ease. Even those who now are, and have been ac- 
 customed to be with me, are at a loss to conceive and 
 describe the many various forms and shapes in which 
 it makes its appearance. 
 
 1 imagine you have heard by this time, that the 
 physicians who have last consulted in my behalf, have 
 given up all hope of my recovery, and consider my 
 malady remediless : I shall therefore think no more 
 of being set free from this strange distemper in these 
 regions of sorrow ; indeed I have long given up all 
 idea of being restored, but as my friends wished me 
 to try medical aid again, and for them to choose the 
 physicians, I thought it my duty to yield, and did so; 
 being sensible we ought to use the means, if Provi- 
 dence puts it into our power. But as this last means 
 has failed, and as my pecuniary circumstances will 
 not admit of my calling in any other advice, even 
 were I to hear of any that might perhaps be benefi- 
 cial, I desire, my dear Maria, to submit cheerfully 
 to the kind dispensations of a wise Providence, who 
 does all things well; and will not lay on me more 
 than he will give grace and strength to enable me to 
 bsar. In his gracious promises I trust; his word is 
 
142 A MEDLEY Oh 
 
 sure, yea, firm as a rock his glorious promise stands. 
 He has said,*" As thy day so shall thy strength be.' 5 
 In this precious declaration of our Lord my heart 
 confides, for 1 know him to be true in whom I have 
 believed. He has hitherto proved to me a most faith- 
 ful and merciful Creator, and will continue so, I am 
 persuaded, unto the end. 
 
 What a mercy, my dear friend, that God so kindly 
 sanctifies my long afflictions. What should I now do 
 were it not for his grace that supports me ? Reflect, 
 
 M , for a moment, what my situation is, and I am 
 
 sure you will be led to adore the power and goodness 
 that doth so kindly bear me up under the many 
 changing and afflictive scenes which it is my lot to 
 pass through here ; but amidst all, I think, my friend, 
 I am most highly favoured ; and have ten thou- 
 sand blessings 1 neither deserve, nor have a right to 
 expect. I deserve nothing but the wrath of God, 
 therefore I have no right to expect and claim any 
 tbing from his hand : yet, astonishing to tell, bless- 
 ings innumerable flow around me through my dear 
 Redeemer. 
 
 My dear father's misfortunes have separated me 
 from him ' r he can no longer do for me as formerly ; 
 it grieves him to the heart to have to part with me un- 
 der such distressing circumstances. My heart also 
 bleeds, but not for myself; for him I am pained, and 
 bis family. A reverse of circumstances at his period 
 of life is truly trying, and my bosom weeps for him ; 
 but through mercy I am enabled to look to God, and 
 commend him to his protection ; I am enabled to pray 
 for him, if I can do no more, and that is a great so- 
 lace to my aching heart. 1 weep for him, my friend ; 
 and I am not forbid to weep, but I am to murmur; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 143 
 
 and hope I shall continue to be kept from the sin of 
 repining. Here am I now, my dear Maria, I will 
 not say an helpless burden on the world, but on friends, 
 kind, sympathetic friends, whose goodness overwhelms 
 me. Ah ! my Maria, this dependent and adverse 
 state is not consonant with the natural feelings, but 
 truly painful and humbling to flesh and blood — grie- 
 vous to human nature. Nevertheless, though I most 
 sensibly feel my delicate 'state, grace makes me satis- 
 fied with God's dealings ; it is my ardent desire to 
 submissively acquiesce in all things written in the co- 
 venant. It is a merciful Father that corrects me, and 
 it is all for my good. I know there is need for the 
 rod, or it would not be used ; and trying as it is to 
 pass through the deep waters of affliction, yet 
 
 I kiss the hand that deals the cup, 
 And without murmuring drink it up j 
 It is my heavenly Father's will 
 I know — and bid my heart be still, 
 Whene'er my thoughts attempt to rise 
 In discontent toward the skies. 
 
 I am now removed to a snug little cottage at Green- 
 wich; placed under the care to board with a very 
 worthy family, whose kindness I shall never cease to 
 remember, and with grateful recollection ; particular- 
 ly the attention and kind nursing of Mrs. Brown. I 
 consider it a propitious providence my being placed 
 in such good hands, in my peculiar situation — an- 
 other token of God's favour to unworthy me, my dear 
 
 M . Oh ! who has such great cause for praise 
 
 and thankfulness as I . ? 
 
 When shall I see you ? when will you visit the city 
 
144 A MEDLE Y OF 
 
 again ? If you do not mean very soon to come as far 
 as this, write, that I may at least hear from you, if I 
 do not see your face. I long to know how you come 
 on in your laudable undertaking at N. T. — My best 
 wishes attend you ; the Lord bless your labours of 
 love, and crown them with abundant success. 
 
 Adieu for the present, I must leave you : the sun 
 has long fled our hemisphere, and the shades of night 
 are fast approaching. Excuse all the imperfections 
 of this scroll, and accept the love of your affectionate 
 and sincere friend, 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 TO GEORGE W. B. AGED FOUR MONTHS. 
 
 May, 1821. 
 
 George Washington, as yet dear babe, 
 
 I've seen but once thy face, 
 And then methought I plainly could 
 
 Thy mother's features trace. 
 
 Thy mother's image from a child 
 
 Was graven on my heart ; 
 It there still lives, and there shall cling, 
 
 Till death our souls shall part. 
 
 Though seldom now 1 see her face, 
 
 She on my mem'ry lives ; 
 I bear her to a throne of grace, 
 
 And hope for her revives* 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. • 145 
 
 She's been the subject of my prayers 
 
 For many rolling years; 
 And heav'n, I hope, my fervent cries 
 
 For her conversion hears. 
 
 Though moral, yet her heart must be 
 
 Renew'd by sovereign grace, 
 Or her immortal soul can ne'er 
 
 Behold the Saviour's face. 
 
 Oh may her soul be taught of God, 
 
 That she may teach thy thoughts 
 To soar above the things of sense, 
 
 And love his sacred courts. 
 
 Once I have press'd you to my breast, 
 
 And kiss'd your infant cheek ; 
 But may not live, perhaps, to hear 
 
 My little nephew speak. 
 
 If you are spar'd, and I should die 
 
 Ere you to manhood grow, 
 These lines for your salvation dear, 
 
 My anxious care will show. 
 
 Ere you was from the womb brought forth, 
 
 To share in this world's wo, 
 I lov'd your soul, and pray'd it might, 
 
 When born, in wisdom grow. 
 
 Spring up in favour with the Lord, 
 
 (As Samuel did of old,) 
 And prize his precepts and his word, 
 
 More than the finest gold. 
 
 N 
 
H<3 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 That God who form'd your beauteous clay r 
 
 And causes you to live, 
 Has strictly said, " My son obey," 
 
 And me your whole heart give. 
 
 Give me your heart in early life, 
 
 And shun the path to hell ; 
 And while you pass this vale of tears 
 
 All shall with you go well. 
 
 Sweet boy obey the heav'nly voice, 
 Then shall your soul be bless'd 
 
 While in this life, and after death 
 Be taken up to rest. 
 
 Adieu, dear George ! may sovereign grace 
 
 Your endless portion be ; 
 And rise to sing redeeming love, 
 
 Through vast eternity. 
 
 A FRAGMENT 
 
 Nov. 12th, 1821. 
 
 Oh ! said my friend C one day, while sitting 
 
 by me with her work, I know not what to think : I 
 sometimes believe there is truth in religion, and some- 
 times I have no faith in it at all ; I am at times quite 
 bewildered, and almost lose my senses with thinking, 
 the Bible is such a mystery. Alas ! cried she> with a 
 deep sigh, how often do I wish I had died in my in- 
 fancy, then I should have been happy, if there be any 
 happiness after death, and then I should not have been 
 tormented by conscience, through my knowledge of 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 147 
 
 those different opinions relative to a future state, and 
 the right way to heaven, if there be one : had I died 
 then, I should have gone in ignorance and been safe, 
 if Scripture be true, and if not, I should, like the beasts, 
 have perished and been a stranger to the miseries of 
 life. O exclaimed she with a faltering voice, would 
 that I had then expired, or had never been born. Ah ! 
 said I, suppress these thoughts, my friend, and let not 
 such rash expressions come from your lips : you are 
 not aware how much you offend your Maker by those 
 sinful feelings and hasty exclamations; we highly 
 grieve and dishonour that beneficent Being who hath, 
 in his wisdom, created us, and from the beginning 
 made man upright : it is sinfully reproaching and 
 reflecting on him for our existence, when we ought 5 
 indeed, to feel sensibly grateful to him for life and its 
 blessings ; and the blessed overtures of peace and sal- 
 vation made to guilty worms, all hell-deserving; and 
 for creating us with capacities sufficiently large and 
 suitable to love him (if we will) above every thing 
 else ; but such is our depraved nature, and fondness 
 for earthly things, that we have no disposition to love 
 the Creator, who is infinitely lovely and good, and 
 who has the first right to our affections and our best 
 services. 
 
 O never again, my friend, suffer such sinful repin- 
 ings to defile your tongue, nor harbour in your breast 
 such unjust thoughts of the Almighty which I have 
 sometimes heard you express : be assured the Lord is 
 angry with you for it, and will rebuke you if you give 
 way to such awful murmurings. The Lord has just- 
 ly chastised me for sins of that nature ; therefore, I 
 not only know from his word, but from unhappy ex- 
 perience, that whoever is querulous, and finds fault 
 
i48 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 with the dispensations of Providence, will assuredly 
 feel, in some way or other, his just displeasure. Un- 
 der very trying and peculiar circumstances, and great 
 distractions of mind in times past, I have (with shame 
 and confusion I confess it) most bitterly lamented that 
 I was ever brought into being ; or, that I had not fled 
 from the stage of life immediately on entering it; and 
 the recollection of my folly pains me, my dear C- — , 
 to this day ; but it was in moments of the most exqui- 
 site anguish of heart, that I let drop from my pollut- 
 ed lips, such wicked repinings at the wise and gra- 
 cious dispensations of God. I then handed her the 
 following lines and said, read, my friend, that which 
 now causes the blush of shame, and my soul to mourn 
 at the remembrance of its past follies. 
 
 Would that I ne'er had seen the light ; 
 Let that day perish, and the night, 
 When first I drew the vital air, 
 And felt the pangs of grief and care : 
 Curs'd be the day that gave me birth, 
 And left me on this baleful earth, 
 Where sin and sorrow, pain and wo, 
 From every quarter spring and grow ; 
 Where Satan rages, tempests howl, 
 And threaten to destroy the soul, 
 And oft temptations overcome 
 The weakness of a mortal worm. 
 Why will not God my grief remove ? 
 Or take me to himself above ? 
 Away from sin and Satan's snares, 
 And far beyond the reach of cares ? 
 Why was it destined thus for me, 
 Such months, and days, and ills to seer 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 149 
 
 Before the morn of life had dawned, 
 The sun withdrew his rays and frowned;" 
 And ere a mother's love was known, 
 Her care, by death, was soon withdrawn. 
 
 The storm commenced while on the breast 
 I leaned my infant head to rest ; 
 And, as I grew to riper age, 
 The furious winds went on to rage, 
 Till this weak frame with pain did weep 
 While tossing on the boisterous deep ; 
 Then driven on a luckless shore 
 To toil, and pain, and suffer more; 
 And now, amongst the rocks and sands, 
 Alas ! an useless wreck it stands : 
 When will this wreck of nature fall, 
 And end the sorrows of the soul ? 
 O, must I still oppose the blast ? 
 Why are my lines so hapless cast ? 
 Is there no rest for wretched me? 
 Ah ! no — no ray of hope I see. 
 Ye silent graves, to you I cry, 
 And ask my mother's ashes why, 
 When in the agonies of death, 
 She breathed her last lamented breath. 
 She did not press me to her breast, 
 And take me with her to be blessed ? 
 To 'scape the sins 1 since have wrought 
 In word, and deed, and dreadful thought? 
 My dear departed mother, why . ? 
 Speak, speak my parent-dust — reply ; 
 O, why was not our fate one grave, 
 Thy child from grief and sin to save ? 
 When I was brought forth from the womb. 
 And thou wast cast into the tomb, 
 
 N 2 
 
150 A MEDLEY Of 
 
 Why didst thou not thy infant take, 
 That it with thee might one bed make ? 
 O, hadst thou snatched me from the storm 
 Of this rude life at early dawn, 
 Then I had been at rest with God, 
 And ne'er transgressed his holy word. 
 
 When my friend had concluded, she handed back 
 the paper, and turned aside to weep. I can sympa- 
 thize with you, my dear C , continued I, for I well 
 
 know the variety of feelings with which your mind is 
 exercised : not a sensation of any kind can be pro- 
 duced to which I am a stranger. I doubt whether 
 you have, or ever will experience that sad diversity of 
 feeling which has stung this once wretched, but now 
 unspeakably happy bosom. Those drops that roll 
 down your cheek, are the tears of sympathy, produced 
 by the lines you have just read ; but you have not yet 
 been made sensible of the great guilt with which I 
 may be justly charged ; a little reflection will surely 
 convince you, not only of the ingratitude, but of 
 the henious crime of calling into question the wise 
 dealings of providence; for alas it was presumptuous- 
 ly dictating to my Maker, saying, why dost thou thus ? 
 Yea, it was censuring his gracious dispensations ; 
 and like Job, when he was brought into tribula- 
 tion, my tongue spoke rashly. God was angry with 
 Job for his sin, and he has justly chastised me. 
 Though like Job, when in distress and agony of 
 soul, I cursed the day of my birth, yet that anguish 
 of mind did not lessen my guilt — the crime will admit 
 of no palliation. The just fruit of my murmurings 
 was a tortured conscience; the severest rod with 
 which I could have been chastised; but I deserved it. 
 
JOY AND GRIEt 151 
 
 and though I have reason to hope, that I have since 
 felt deep godly sorrow for my folly, yet I shall never 
 cease to lament my vile ingratitude to God. I have 
 given you this statement of my rebellious spirit, that it 
 may be a warning to you, my friend, to save yourself 
 from the stings of a disquieted conscience; if you 
 wish to be free in future from many pangs and self 
 reproach, O, take warning from me and never again 
 find fault with the ways of God, lest he visit you with 
 the rod of correction. 
 
 Perceiving my friend very thoughtful, and to ap- 
 pear forcibly impressed with what I had said, I con- 
 tinued the subject. Instead now of cursing the day 
 of my birth, I bless God that I was born ; born to 
 suffer, if it be suffering for Christ's sake. Heaven is 
 worth living for, aud Christ is worth suffering and 
 dying for; yes, those heavenly mansions, and God's 
 glory, are all in which I feel any interest in this world. 
 " I count all things but loss and dung, for the excel- 
 lency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord." 
 I trust this is the language of my heart as well as of 
 my lips. Now of what importance it is, my dear 
 
 G , to have an interest in the Son of God, and to 
 
 feel solicitous for the enlargement of his kingdom, 
 and the promotion of his glory on the earth. Would 
 that the Lord's people were of one heart and soul in 
 the work. Methinks if that were the case, great pro- 
 gress would be made in Zion ; and much greater suc- 
 cess would attend spiritual labours ;— but I forget, my 
 friend, that I am expressing my concern for the glory 
 of God and his church, to one who is dubious as to 
 the truth of these things, and, consequently, can feel 
 no interest in this subject; but permit me to make a 
 few humble remarks on this head. I have noticed, in 
 
152 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 some parts of this conversation, that you observed, 
 " The Bible is such a mystery — if there be any hap- 
 piness hereafter — -if there be a heaven — if Scripture 
 be true," he. from which I infer, that you doubt the 
 truth of the whole. In one sense you are consistent, 
 for if one be false, the whole must be so; and if one 
 be a fact, it follows that the whole must be true; for 
 the one accords with the other, and the whole per- 
 fectly corresponds. I know there are some so incon- 
 gruous, as to admit one part to be truth, the other, a 
 fabrication of man, a human invention ; but charac- 
 ters of such a composition are a mass of inconsistent 
 cies ; in fact, they are the slaves of infidelity ; — they 
 believe nothing at all, excepting that there is a su- 
 preme Being; and in this they cannot help them- 
 selves ; for turn their infidel eyes which way they will, 
 they cannot but see the wisdom and power of the Al- 
 mighty so wonderfully and perfectly displayed in his 
 works, that they are at once compelled to acknow- 
 ledge it. As to the word of God being mysterious, 
 my friend, I do confess there are many parts of it be- 
 yond the reach of my weak comprehension, but there 
 is sufficient revealed for the meanest capacity to un- 
 derstand — abundantly enough to teach us our duty to 
 God, and the way to happiness. Those parts which 
 appear difficult, we must leave ; their truth and mean- 
 ing will be unfolded to us another day. " What thou 
 knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter." Indeed, 
 if we were critically to observe what is daily occur- 
 ring in the world ; trace the history, and examine the 
 affairs of nations, and behold the wonderful work of 
 God in the religious community ; we could not but see 
 in the clearest manner, the complete and perfect ac- 
 complishment of the prophecies of the Scriptures; for 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. Ju3 
 
 one instance, behold the sacred oracles translated into 
 different languages, and sent to every quarter of the 
 globe, and the confirmation of these prophecies is 
 one of the brightest evidences we can have of the au- 
 thenticity of the Bible. Again, the birth, life, mi- 
 racles, sufferings and death of our Lord Jesus Christ ; 
 the diabolical deed of Judas; the scattering of the 
 Jewish nation ; the martyrdom of the disciples of 
 Christ, all took place as predicted ; and many other 
 events of a singular nature, tend to prove the truth of 
 that blessed volume more than all the arguments that 
 men can bring forward. I would advise you, my 
 friend, to read the Scriptures carefully, and compare 
 the Old and New Testament together; notice the 
 events in past generations, and in the present times, 
 and pray to be enlightened by the Spirit of God, that 
 you may judge with an unprejudiced mind, and not 
 depend on the opinions of men. The word of inspi- 
 ration will inform you of the truth of there being a 
 heaven and a hell : — a place of happiness and of 
 torment, and of each having no end. Ah ! said 
 
 C , how do I know that the Bible was written by 
 
 inspired men ? I replied, that any one can doubt that 
 astonishes me ; for who but men divinely inspired 
 could have foretold so many things that have since 
 come to pass ? and what other book has been written 
 in that grand and lofty style of language, which seems 
 to be another proof of its being fur superior to the 
 composition of men of common, yea, even the most 
 refined understanding ? Just as I finished this sen- 
 tence company was ushered in, and my friend rose 
 to leave me. I whispered in her ear as she was de- 
 parting, we will resume this conversation at some con- 
 
154 a Medley of 
 
 venient opportunity ; she assented, and bid rae good 
 morning-. 
 
 EXERCISES OF HEART, &c. 
 
 June, 1815. 
 
 ' . ^The cheerful sun rolls round from day to day, and 
 the slow circling seasons in their turn revolve and re- 
 revolve, and still find the suffering wretch, the poor 
 crushed worm, a constant prey to disease ;' bound, 
 alas ! to sit and waste the golden hours, and bear the 
 agonies of a distemper which hitherto has baffled hu- 
 man aid ; finds the tortured victim a prisoner still 
 within these walls, sighing away the tedious minutes ; 
 languishing on this bed a useless lump of breathing 
 clay, a burden to herself and friends. Yet how un- 
 speakably good is God ! Oh, strange to tell, what 
 mercies are mixed with my woes ! Yes, 'tis strange, 
 dear Ann,* wonderful indeed, that I am not deprived 
 of sense, my reason not impaired, and that I am not 
 left a prey to melancholy. For ever adored be my 
 Almighty friend, who kindly preserves my faculties. 
 Oh how good of God not to deprive me of a prize so 
 great, so highly valued by me, and so much desired ; 
 nor have I any fears in that respect. His gracious 
 ear is open to my feeble prayers. He kindly listens 
 to a suppliant worm ; and gentle whispers from his 
 lofty throne tell me I am his. '* Fear not,' 5 the con- 
 descending Jesus breathes, " I have heard your sup- 
 plications, long hearkened to your plaintive cries. 
 
 * Miss Ann R. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 15. 
 
 Fear not, I am thy God, and hear and answer prayer; 
 but if I in my wisdom should see fit to deprive thee 
 of all thy mental powers, and leave thee a maniac to 
 live and die, fear no evil, for thou would still be mine. 
 Once in me, ever and eternally in me — no harm shall 
 e'er befall thee. Earth and hell, with all their powers 
 combined, could not possibly separate thee from my 
 love. The soul that reposes confidence in me need 
 never fear, let what affliction will befall it; my ho- 
 nour is engaged to keep that soul in safety under 
 every danger, and conduct it safe to heaven. Know 
 then, whatever troubles may fall to thy lot, I will be 
 with thee unto the end ; I have pledged my word to 
 keep thy soul through all the dangerous blasts of life : 
 be of good cheer, and trust in me." 
 
 Thus kindly doth my Redeemer speak through his 
 blessed word ; I hear his gracious voice, the promise 
 read, and in his glorious word confide ; and through 
 his grace 1 feel resigned to meet whatever he may for 
 me ordain. My heart and soul, and all my powers of 
 sense I have long committed to his almighty care, 
 and rest satisfied that they are secure in his dear 
 hands. Thus well assured by him, my happy soul sits 
 calmly down beneath his all-protecting wing, fearing 
 no evil, content with all his ways, rejoicing in his 
 government, praising and adoring the power and 
 grace that so mercifully brings my mind into sweet 
 subjection to his sovereign will. 
 
 Oh infinite goodness! love divine! that should 
 constrain a fallen, worthless wretch, amidst all the 
 racking pains of this sad life, (contrary to nature,) 
 thus in thy glorious name to trust, and submit, even 
 acquiesce in thy just will. If my vile nature was not 
 beneath thy blessed control— oh, dreadful thought— 
 
156 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 it would curse thee to thy face ; but grace, thy match- 
 less grace, stills my passions, and over nature has the 
 victory. 
 
 Yes, dear Ann, although my shattered bark is driven 
 hither and thither by storms and tempests without the 
 power of control, heaven be thanked, my spirits and 
 reason are kept whole. Come, then, dear friend of 
 Jesus, help me to magnify his holy name, and sing 
 his boundless mercies in exalted strains. Praise him, 
 my soul, my heart adore and bless the stupendous 
 grace that comforts and sustains thy wandering mind. 
 ' O kiss the hand that gives the needful stripes, and 
 bless the power that bears thy spirit up, and doth so 
 wonderfully preserve thy frame beneath the oft re- 
 peated strokes. The blows are painful, but O how 
 kindly meant ! Mercy and love compose the chast- 
 ening rod. 'Tis not in fierce wrath and hot displea- 
 sure the Lord rebukes the children of his love, but in 
 compassion, with feelings such as a wise and tender 
 father corrects a beloved child. Sweet, sweet afflic- 
 tion ; under thy huge weight I now can smile, look 
 upwards, and gladly say, it is my father— his gra- 
 cious hand deals out the cup—O let him do what in 
 his sight seems good. He is a sovereign, I a guilty 
 wretch ; he is a God, and I a mortal worm. Without] 
 correction I should, alas ! be always straying, and so^ 
 lose sight of heaven, of Jesus, and of bliss ; neglecti 
 my duty and forget my heavenly King ; thus bring 
 upon his glorious cause a wound, and trample under 
 foot his precious blood ; and thus crucify the Lord 
 afresh, and put him to open shame. Yes, thus base 
 and treacherous should I prove, did not my heavenly 
 Father guide the reins and use preventive means. 
 Whenever I stray, oh may my Saviour mark my 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. la7 
 
 wanderings with a compassionate eye, and chide me 
 with a gracious voice ; send forth his grace, and bring 
 my silly souJ safe back to paths of righteousness 
 and peace. 
 
 Thou dear lmmanuel, infinitely great God ! let mc 
 never be a stumbling block to thy iambs, nor stray so 
 as to stagger others by my conduct, and give the 
 wicked cause to deride and bring reproach upon thy 
 sacred name. O mark with careful vigilance my 
 shppery steps, and when my feet shall err, incline to 
 turn aside and tread forbidden ground, O turn them 
 back ere I rove so far as to expose my weakness, and 
 bring disgrace on my profession. Never, O never 
 may I dishonour thy holy name by any misdemeanor 
 Suffer me, gracious God, never to bring a slur upon 
 thy glorious cause. To this, my Ann I know will add 
 amen, and join with me to extol the Saviour's name 
 You have, my lovely friend, as well as me, the highest 
 cause to exalt his praise; then let us, with one heart 
 and soul, unite to sing his love, and with one accord 
 his highest honours raise; at home or abroad, let us 
 his goodness, mercy, and his worth unfurl. 
 
 Awake, my soul ! and thou, my bosom friend 
 Rouse all thy pow'rs ! and join to celebrate 
 The God of glory and the God of grace. 
 Our father and our God to thee we'll sing 
 Eternal anthems of unbounded praise. 
 Oh for ten thousand hearts to love thy name 
 Ten thousand tongues to sound thy glories high 
 And spread thy everlasting love abroad 
 Let heaven and earth adore ! Jet nature sine: 
 And one united song of praise arise 
 
 
 
U8 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 To thee (O Lamb of God ! for sinners slain) 
 While time endures—then chant sublimer strains 
 In vast eternity, through endless years. 
 
 Oh how shall I, dear kindred soul, describe 
 The scene that strikes my fancy, and the joy 
 Which now pervades my bosom while I write : 
 Impossible my pen can e'er portray 
 The glory, rapture, and the heavenly bliss 
 My longing soul anticipates to see, 
 When death shall break the threads that bind it here, 
 Oh glorious prospect of the world to come ! 
 That blessed world where I shall meet my friend. 
 And with transporting rapture join her there, 
 To recount the tender mercies of our God, 
 
 REFLECTIONS, &c 
 
 Is my poor soul still prison'd here ? 
 
 Doom'd in this house of clay to dwell ? 
 Hard lot of mine— thus bound to bear 
 
 The horrors of this earthly cell. 
 
 This humble bed, and lowly chair, 
 Bear witness to increasing woes ; 
 
 My pain's most more than I can bear, 
 My cup of sorrow overflows. 
 
 Kind death ! when wilt thou end my race 
 When shall I have my sweet reprieve ? 
 
 Great God ! cut short thy work of grace, 
 And take me up with thee to live. 
 
.»0Y AND GRIEF. 159 
 
 Bat who am I, that I should thus 
 Dictate to him who made my frame ? 
 
 Be still my heart, my passions hush, 
 Nor let my tongue again complain. 
 
 Surely what God appoints is best, 
 
 Though long the months and years appear, 
 
 Daily by pains, and woes oppress'd, 
 He for my good still keeps me here. 
 
 Lord I submit, and own thee good, 
 And right, and just, in all thy ways, 
 
 1 kiss the rod and bless the hand, 
 
 That holds me up by sovereign grace. 
 
 Slay, 1816. 
 
 EXERCISES OF MIND ON RECEIVING ENCOURAGEMENT 
 TO HOPE FOR RECOVERY FROM A LONG AND PAIN- 
 FUL ILLNESS. 
 
 Burl Gate, August, 1816. 
 
 Thou great Supreme, author of life and death ! 
 May a trembling worm presume to hope, that, after 
 a siege of ten long years, thou wilt be gracious, smile 
 propitiously, and bless the means now used to reno- 
 vate her bloom ? Dare I, O God ! anticipate such joy 
 after having no interval of ease so long ; and being 
 told so often there was no remedy, no prospect of fu- 
 ture health ? May I indeed, oh ! thou Almighty Phy- 
 sician ! hope that thou in thy providence hast sent 
 ihese friends* to raise the poor sufferer from this 
 
 " P*. J, S. and Son. 
 
J 60 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 sickly couch ? they kindly come, unsent for and un* 
 sought ; repeat their visits with unwearied kindness 
 and undaunted zeal, and hope to effect a cure, al- 
 though the long malady has hitherto baffled all human 
 skill, 1 am strongly prepossessed in favour of these 
 benevolent men Hike their judgment, love their gene- 
 ral views, and will submit to their directions. Incited 
 by you, my kind physicians, my invaluable friends, 
 (for though strangers, such you daily prove) I begin to 
 hope — yes, sweet hope revives, and in this breast re- 
 sumes her seat; my heart rejoices in the prospect of 
 returning health. 
 
 What ! shall I once more exercise these limbs, 
 Shall these long palsied feet e'er walk again ? 
 Shall I indeed be raised from this sick bed 8 
 Oh ! shall I ramble o'er the verdant fields f 
 With joy perambulate the flow'ry groves, 
 Again behold my fav'rite rural scenes, 
 And join sweet solitude's delightful shades ? 
 Haunt the fair valleys, and ascend the hills, 
 To contemplate great nature's lovely works ? 
 And above all appear in Zion's courts 
 To worship there again, and pay my vows, 
 Join with the multitude to praise, and list 
 To the sweet melody of gospel truths ? 
 
 So says my physician — he assures me that he be- 
 b'eves it will be so. Extatic thought ! I think he 
 would not flatter me; yet his skill may fail : and herb, 
 and mineral have no power to reach my strange dis- 
 ease — but my kind friend is sanguine, his hopes run 
 high, he thinks I certainly shall be cured. May I not 
 humbly hope my better friend on high is like minded ? 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 161 
 
 then will my latter years be blest ; then shall I flou- 
 rish in health and strength, and be like Job, whose 
 last days were happy and serene. My God! permit 
 my weary soul to hope. Although I have now cause 
 to hope, yet my hope may be in vain. Something 
 flattering says it shall be so — but hark ! I hear a 
 more prudent voice, which speaks kind counsel in my 
 listening ear : " Be not too sanguine, hear a word of 
 advice ; take good courage, but hope with submission 
 to the divine will; wait on the Lord, and let your 
 language be, Father not mine, thy better will be 
 done." Kind admonition ! attend my soul, and ever 
 bear it on thy treacherous mind. It is religion that 
 softly whispers this. 
 
 Obey her precepts, mark her kind design 
 To save from further woes in future time. 
 
 I take the friendly hint, my grateful soul receives thy 
 good advice, and in the strength of God I will en- 
 deavour to practice what thy wisdom dictates ; then 
 should disappointments defeat my hopes again, and 
 blast my warmest expectations, it will not inflict a 
 deep and deadly wound. Now, hope once more per- 
 vades myvbreast ; calm as the still eve, serene as hea- 
 ven. I hope that I am prepared to meet my fate with 
 the submission Christians should ever evince under 
 the dispensations of the Almighty, be they prosperous 
 or adverse. Through grace I trust to be resigned to 
 all thy blessed will. Yet, well I know, shouldst thou 
 thy grace withhold, I should rebel ; but oh ! forbid 
 this evil and keep me by thy power. Whate'er thy 
 providence denies, or thy sovereign will ordains, 
 Lord give me strength to bear, and as my day, so 
 
 02 
 
162 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 let strength be given. Then shall 1 acquiesce in thy 
 divine will, and without repining yield to thy good 
 pleasure. Amidst the agonies of the flesh how great 
 my mercies! how highly favoured with kind friends! 
 These are thy great gifts, oh God ! though bitter the 
 waters, and severe the rod, yet how kind is my Crea- 
 tor ! Mercies are blended with his just rebukes ; his 
 comforts like a gentle shower descend and flow as un- 
 ceasing as a copious stream. Oh ! what a debt of 
 gratitude I owe to thee my God, to thee my heavenly 
 Friend ! a debt, alas ! I never can repay. Thou 
 hast my highest thoughts : and my best thanks morn- 
 ing and evening shall ascend on high, while breath, 
 and strength, and being last. See how my wonder- 
 ing heart doth beat to spread thy bounties freely as 
 they are bestowed ; to magnify thy name, and tell 
 the world thy goodness. But my powers all fail in 
 the attempt to describe thy mercy — while here I can- 
 not attain to that perfect love which my aspiring 
 thoughts desire ; that must be left until I see thy face 
 in yonder glorious mansion, in which, after death, I 
 hope with thee to dwell, and in immortal notes, and 
 higher strains, my grateful heart shall sound thy 
 praises through eternity. Yet will I not forget to 
 spread thy love while in this life; I will praise thy 
 glorious name with all my powers. 
 
 Now from my tongue let grateful songs arise, 
 And spread abroad a fellow mortal's praise ; 
 To heaven direct the homage of thy thoughts 
 And speak the goodness of a tender friend. 
 Oh ! what emotions I this moment feel 
 Piercing through all the windings of my heart ♦ 
 High swells my bosom with a grateful sense 
 
JOV AND GRIEF. 163 
 
 ' Of thy benevolence, oh honoured Sykes ! 
 Shall I suppress the feelings of my heart, 
 And hold in silence thy praiseworthy deeds ? 
 Just Heaven forbid that I should be so base. 
 Gratitude demands that I should speak, and tell 
 Thy noble act to me a suffering wretch. 
 Then to my feelings I will give full scope, 
 My tongue shall oft diffuse thy praise abroad, 
 And my poor pen in grateful lines record 
 Thy great philanthropy and my vast debt. 
 When thou, oh Sykes ! wert told of my disease, 
 My painful, long, and grievous state of wo ; 
 Thou, like a friend, didst hasten to my couch, 
 And with the affection of a tender sire 
 Bemoan'd my sad misfortunes, and condol'd 
 With feelings that did credit to thy heart. 
 Yes, and repeated too from day to day 
 Thy friendly visits to find out my case, 
 Then gave me thy opinion and prescribed* 
 And ever since provided all the means. 
 
 Oh generous man ! I remember well the day in 
 which thy goodness spoke, and bade me to try once 
 more medical aid. You saw me backward, knew 
 the cause, and with great delicacy endeavoured to re- 
 lieve my anxious heart. I heard, I felt, I gazed, but 
 for a while answered not — confusion overspread my 
 wondering soul — you discerned my embarrassment 
 and with kindness said, "I know your case, my child, 
 and want no compensation ; to see you well, restored 
 to health and friends, is all I wish." Here the sage 
 paused. The softness of his manner added dignity 
 to his noble character. He strove to hide his feelings, 
 but he strove in vain. His countenance changed — 
 
164 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 I saw the starting tear — his heart was deeply affected, 
 and for a while his emotions were great. I then took 
 courage, and candidly told him of my inability to 
 make any compensation for his trouble. He kindly 
 stopped me, and when recovered, took my trembling 
 hand, and with a look of benignity kindly added, 
 "Be not distressed; look forward to better days ; you 
 will be well. Banish from your mind all painful 
 thoughts, and think of seeing healthier days, and of 
 leaving this humble cottage for brighter scenes ; in- 
 deed, I will not forsake you ; rely on my word ; you 
 may with safety, I am sincere. If three months will 
 not perform a cure, we will have a six months' trial ; 
 even more if necessary : I will not leave you until 1 
 see you well." Generous man ! noble minded stran- 
 ger! kind and humane friend! what shall I answer 
 thee ? language fails, and my heart is overcome by 
 kindness so unexpected — heaven crown thy kind en- 
 deavours with success — then wilt thou shine in the lists 
 of skill even more eminently than now ; should the 
 Lord smile and graciously bless thy labours, it shall 
 be my sweet employ to spread thy fame abroad, and 
 tell thy worth where strange distempers rage. For- 
 give the freedom, if I say my tongue shall not forget 
 the excellence of thy son. But kind physicians, while 
 my lips shall record the praise so justly due to your 
 merit, to God my Father and my heavenly friend the 
 glory must redound : he is the power, you the kind 
 instruments in his Almighty hand. 
 
 At his command alone diseases fly and health re- 
 turns. But if the Lord should not see fit to bestow 
 the blessing, the long lost precious jewels, health and 
 strength, while memory lasts I still will think of you, 
 my friends ; in sweet remembrance hold your noble 
 
JOY AND GRl£F. 165 
 
 deeds, and invoke heaven's best blessings on your ho- 
 noured heads. Well might your young friend Eliza 
 Ann,* while wading through the cold flood of Jordan 
 gratefully press your hand. She felt the loss she had 
 in early youth sustained, supplied by you upon a bed 
 of pain, and thanked you with her latest breath. How 
 could the dear girl help loving the friend, who with 
 paternal care, laboured both day and night to raise 
 her shattered bark, and restore it to an anxious wi- 
 dowed mother's arms ; but he was unsuccessful ; with 
 a father's tenderness he closed her dying eyes ; and 
 while the big tear stole down his manly cheek, he 
 watched the last struggle, and caught the parting sigh 
 that closed her mortal state. 
 
 All, all thy patients sure must hold thee dear, 
 For all alike in thy attentions share. 
 But I, child of adversity! child of wo ! 
 Have sevenfold reason to revere thy name. 
 Yes, worthy friend, indeed I love thee much : 
 Love thee with the affection of a child : 
 And did I not, I should indeed be vile. 
 Thy munificence, and thy kind designs, 
 Have made impressions deep upon my heart, 
 Impressions so indelible, that change 
 Nor lapse of time can ne'er efface. But sir, 
 Forgive the effusions of a grateful breast. 
 May happiness on all your days attend, 
 Perennial blessings from on high descend 
 And daily crown your head—may the best gifts 
 Of providence be your portion here. 
 The Saviour grant your happy lot may be, 
 To tread the path that leads to endless bliss- 
 * Miss Manning. 
 
166 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 And oh shouldst thou, sir, from this mortal scene 
 First be summoned to the eternal world, 
 Could I but know when death invades thy heart, 
 I'd hasten quickly to thy dying bed, 
 Nor leave thee till I saw thy lamp expire. 
 Will not some gentle friend, some kindred spirit 
 Convey the tidings? Yes, ah! yes; methinks 
 Thy worthy son (if living) will the kind deed 
 With true fraternal love perform. 
 But cease my heart, my eyes begin to flow. 
 The thought of losing one so very dear, 
 Is too painful for my mind to dwell on. 
 Should my immortal spirit first be called 
 May I not hope, dear sir, and humbly ask 
 To see my kind physician, take my leave, 
 And bid farewell in death's last solemn hour ? 
 Say, wilt thou condescend to crown this wish', 
 My heart's desire f Ah ! yes, I think I hear 
 Thee say "it shall be so" — then come, dear sir, 
 When thou art told how Jordan's billows swell, 
 And this poor hull has nearly gained the port — 
 Come and behold the wreck of nature die : 
 Come, see a cumb'rer of the earth expire. 
 And while my father for the last time here 
 Salutes the cold cheek of his dying child, 
 Oh ! say, wilt thou permit her qu Wring lips 
 To speak the gratitude she feels to thee ? 
 E'en while her tongue sings praises unto God, 
 Her heart will still think on thy generous acts ? 
 And to thee, oh ! Sykes, my honoured friend, 
 With love, her last, her grateful tribute pay. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF 16? 
 
 LETTER TO THE REV. MR. M . 
 
 Greenwich Village, June 23, 1817. 
 
 Rev. and Dear Sib, 
 
 I had flattered myself, that in one of the visits I 
 made to my friends in the city, I should have enjoyed 
 the pleasure of your company and conversation for 
 a few hours at least. In this pleasing expectation I 
 was, however, disappointed. I saw you but for a few 
 moments, which did not afford me time to relate to 
 you many circumstances relative to myself and others, 
 or my present happy state of convalescence. The 
 relation of these circumstances will, I am sure, be in 
 a high degree pleasing to you, who have taken so 
 deep an interest in my temporal as well as spiritual 
 welfare. The distance from you to which I shall in a 
 few days be removed, joined to your ministerial en- 
 gagements and unavoidable avocations, make it 
 doubtful when I shall have the happiness of a personal 
 interview. I am persuaded, indeed I know it will be 
 a matter of rejoicing to you, to hear of the goodness 
 of God to one whom he has so long and so grievously 
 tried in the furnace of affliction* It would, my dear 
 sir, fill a volume, not small, to detail the singular J 
 fearful and agonizing symptoms of the malady under 
 which I have laboured for the tedious period of more 
 than ten years. You have sometimes witnessed the 
 violence with which it has seized me ; you have seen 
 roe convulsed, my countenance as well as my whole 
 frame distorted, and beheld the derangement by which 
 it was attended. What you have seen is by no means 
 equal to what I have undergone at other times. My 
 
168 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 powers of description will fail in the attempt to relate 
 either the disease or my long-protracted sufferings. 
 The singularity and violence of my disease have ex- 
 cited the wonder and astonishment of all who have 
 beheld me. Many persons of good sense have given 
 it as their opinion, that I was affected in the same 
 way as some poor wretched men were in the days of 
 our Lord and the Apostles ; in other words, that I was 
 possessed with devils. They said that medical aid 
 was no longer necessary, and that " this kind cannot 
 go forth but by fasting and prayer.^' This opinion 
 gave me not the least alarm. I entertained a different 
 opinion. It is my belief that the Divine Being per- 
 mitted evil spirits to enter those unhappy persons in 
 former days, for the purpose of making a more con- 
 spicuous display of the power of his glorious Son, 
 the man Christ Jesus ; to make his grace more re- 
 splendent ; and to prove him the incarnate God, the 
 Saviour who was foretold by the Prophets. I cannot 
 believe that cases of this description are to be met 
 with at this time, or that they have existed at any pe- 
 riod since the days of the Apostles. Other well-mean- 
 ing people have thought my complaints were caused 
 by witchcraft, and have importuned me to make ex- 
 periments, or apply to those artful impostors who 
 deceive the weak and credulous. To these proposi- 
 tions I peremptorily objected, believing them to be 
 the extremes of folly and superstition. Some have 
 ascribed my complicated miseries to religious melan- 
 choly. This opinion was indeed erroneous, and you, 
 sir, I hope, have had sufficient proof to induce you 
 to believe it was so. 
 
 I have reason to be thankful for that religion which 
 has been my only support, my delight, and my con- 
 
JOY AND. GRIEF. iq 9 
 
 solation in my affliction. Religion alone hath borne 
 my spirits up, hath cheered and kept me tranquil 
 amidst the solitary days and woful nights that I have 
 spent in retirement. I believe I am indebted to the 
 blessed influence of religion for the preservation of 
 my life. Could I have abandoned or forgotten my 
 hopes, and my dependence upon the Redeemer, I am 
 convinced that an untimely grave would long since 
 have been the habitation of this frail body. I believe 
 sir, you are no stranger to the various opinions of 
 several physicians who formerly attended me ; men 
 eminent in their profession, who failed in their lauda- 
 ble endeavours to relieve me, and who finally resigned 
 me as incurable. For their attention and efforts they 
 have my gratitude. In this awful and distressing 
 state, I trust I submitted to God's providence with 
 some degree of patience and resignation, anticipating 
 the blessed hour which would separate the soul from 
 the body, and translate it to those happy regions, 
 where 
 
 Sorrow, sin, disease nor pain 
 Can ever reach this frame again. 
 
 In April, 1816, you will recollect, dear sir, that 
 my disorder was pronounced epileptic by two physi- 
 cians who then attended me. From what cause I do 
 not now remember, about that time I became much de- 
 bilitated, and for some weeks the fits, and all the 
 symptoms of my disease, were heightened to an alarm- 
 ing degree. In June I regained some strength, but 
 the paroxysms were still frequent and violent. In 
 July, through what some call accident, but what 1 
 seriously believe to have been an auspicious provi- 
 
 P 
 
170 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 dence, I was first made acquainted with Dr. Sykes of 
 this cit}' ? late of the state of Delaware. My intro- 
 duction to this gentleman was brought about by a 
 kind female acquaintance, who had often witnessed 
 my sufferings, and deeply sympathized with me in my 
 afflictions. She mentioned my case to Dr. Sykes, 
 and asked him to accompany her on a visit to me. 
 To this he assented, and accordingly they came to 
 see me on the 8th July, J 816. 
 
 I should think myself guilty of the blackest ingra- 
 titude, and unworthy of your acquaintance, were I to 
 be silent respecting the benevolent instrument in the 
 Almighty's hand, that procured the share of health I 
 now enjoy. For nearly a year his attentions and me- 
 dicines were afforded me in a manner peculiarly deli- 
 cate and disinterested. Shortly after my friend and 
 the doctor entered my room I was seized with a fit, 
 preceded by derangement, and followed by violent 
 convulsions. They remained with me until the fit 
 left me. The doctor visited me several days in suc- 
 cession, in order to learn the nature and character of 
 my strange disease. He then informed me my com- 
 plaint was not epilepsy ; gave me encouragement ; 
 bade me banish every fear, and look forward to bet- 
 ter and happier days. He concluded by saying he 
 bad little doubt I should be restored to health. It 
 will naturally be supposed that such consolatory and 
 encouraging language animated me, and excited 
 hopes, notwithstanding the various unavailing at- 
 tempts which had formerly been made. 
 
 From December 1813 to July 1816, 1 was deprived 
 of the use of my limbs, and during the whole of that 
 time, with the exception of a few weeks, I was con- 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. •, j 
 
 .1 to my bed. When my feet were removed 'from 
 the bed, and placed on the floor, derangement and 
 convulsions immediately ensued. The disorder had 
 greatly increased since the summer of 1814, the pa- 
 roxysms had become more frequent and more violent. 
 Rarely was I exempt from attacks more than two or 
 three days, and very frequently they occurred ten 
 or twelve successive days, frequently more than once 
 m each day. Often I was deranged for whole days, 
 and convulsed to a degree beyond the power of lan- 
 guage to describe. Thus marvelously hath the Lord 
 blessed the labours of my kind physician. I am now 
 able to walk, and to take more exercise than I have 
 tor several years past, and am in a flattering state of 
 convalescence. I have now before me a bright prospect 
 of reganung that inestimable blessing, which I had 
 been deprived of for more than ten years, and which 
 I had not the most remote hope of again enjoying. 
 Alter so long, and so distressing a loss of health I 
 do not expect to be exempt from debility and occa- 
 sional attacks of fits. I have great cause for thankful- 
 ness, and hope to be able justly to appreciate the mer- 
 cies and goodness of the Lord, in the measure of 
 health already bestowed, and for the prospect before 
 My present strength of body is far beyond my 
 own or my fnends' expectations. To Dr. J. Syke» 
 the son of my physician, I am also deeply indebted • 
 he has behaved to me, with the aifecion o^abroS 
 I he trouble and fatigue which these benevolent men 
 have .endured for my benefit, are almost inconceiva- 
 
 reshlH 01 ' SeV V' al , Weeksdurin e ">e «* summer, I 
 
 r d several mdes from the city, yet were their 
 
 enttons and v.s.ts as frequently repeated, as when 
 
172 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 I lived at Greenwich. Since I recovered the use of 
 my limbs, and have been able to visit my friends, 
 (many of whom I had not seen for several years past) 
 I excite astonishment wherever I go. To see me 
 ride and walk, and the greater part of the time in the 
 enjoyment of my rational faculties, is to them a mat- 
 ter of great surprise and pleasure. I have not the 
 least hesitation in saying, that the medicine and ad- 
 vice of Dr. Sykes have been very beneficial, and 
 the suggestion lately advanced, that medicine had 
 done me no service, is perfectly unfounded. It is a 
 matter of wonder to myself and my friends, that the 
 disease has not long before this period worn me out. 
 I beg, my dear sir, you will have the goodness to bear 
 me in memory at the throne of grace, and pray that 
 I may be made sensible of the mercies of God, and 
 be fitted for usefulness in the cause of Zion. This long 
 and singular letter, I fear will tire you ; I am sorry that 
 I am obliged to be so prolix. A long period has 
 elapsed since I was able to write in a connected man- 
 ner. I regret that the attempt to describe my disease 
 is so defective ; it falls short of the reality. I must 
 again be permitted to declare, that I have not words 
 to express the obligation I am under to my benevo- 
 lent and disinterested physician. I can only say, 
 that gratitude for his and his son's attention, is inde- 
 libly impressed on my heart. In a few days I shall 
 removeto Newark, where I intend to spend some weeks. 
 To see you, my dear sir, has always afforded me plea- 
 sure ; but to see you there, would be doubly gratify- 
 ing. ' I can now almost bear to hear the preaching of 
 the Gospel ; a happiness of which I have been long 
 deprived. To hear you again preach the word of life 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 173 
 
 would be the joy of my heart. Farewell, present me 
 in an affectionate manner to dear Mrs. M. and a^rept 
 yourself the best regards of your affectionate sister in 
 Gospel ties. Eliza. 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 
 
 New- York, April 1R, 1818. 
 
 My Dear Friend, 
 
 Believe me, 'tis with sympathetic emotions I hear 
 of the bereavement you have lately sustained in the 
 death of your respected brother. Permit me, I beg, 
 to condole with you on the distressing and solemn oc- 
 casion. The loss of those who are near and dear to 
 us, is truly painful ; but, if we have reason to hope 
 that our loss is their gain — that the departed has ex- 
 changed terrestrial things for celestial — we ought to 
 be reconciled to the dispensation of providence, and 
 rather rejoice that a brother is freed from the ills and 
 sorrows of a world, which is unhappily " marked with 
 sad variety," than possess a wish to recall his spirit. 
 Nothing can be more consolatory to the feelings of 
 surviving relatives, than the hope, that their deceased 
 friends are happy in the eternal world. If left in 
 darkness with respect to this point, tiie thought that 
 they are gone to appear before a righteous Judge, 
 who cannot possibly do them injustice, ought to still 
 us, and quiet murmuring. But I doubt not, my dear 
 sir, you are enabled to bear this afflictive providence 
 with fortitude, becoming that firmness of character 
 which you generally manifest. 
 
 May the death of your dear relative be to you a se- 
 rious warning— ma y that solemn command of the di- 
 vine Redeemer, "Be ye also ready,'' ever verberate 
 
174 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 on your ear, and sink deep in your heart. May bis 
 death be the means of inducing you to take your lat- 
 ter end into consideration. With the greatest defer- 
 ence 1 urge this on you, my worthy friend. The Sa- 
 viour himself declares, "ye know not in what hour the 
 son of man cometh." The grim tyrant often makes 
 his appearance when we least expect him, and when 
 snatched suddenly away by his relentless power, alas! 
 how awful the change, how dreadful the event if we 
 are found unprepared! Knowing something, my 
 friend, of your views with respect to Universal Salva- 
 tion, I feel disposed to embrace this opportunity of ex- 
 pressing my opinion of principles so dangerous, and 
 hope your generosity will pardon the presumption. I 
 will not pretend to say that you are, in sentiment, a 
 universalist : but as I have heard you speak in favour 
 of the doctrine, I feel desirous of guarding you against 
 a creed so pernicious. 
 
 Truth, sir, obliges me to say, that the believers in 
 
 this delusive doctrine labour under the greatest error. 
 
 It is calculated to make the creature sit down content 
 
 in carnal security, and lull the soul to sleep, a sleep 
 
 from which, if it never awake in this world, it will, 
 
 alas! to its everlasting sorrow, in the world to come. 
 
 They who imbibe this sentiment must either grossly 
 
 pervert Scripture, or totally disbelieve the oracles of 
 
 God ; yea, God himself. For the great author of life 
 
 and death, he who has the government of all things 
 
 in his hands, declares in his holy word, that there is 
 
 a Heaven and a hell; that the wicked shall go down 
 
 into the latter, and that there is a gulf fixed between 
 
 them thatcannot be passed. 1 would ask what does this 
 
 mean, but that when the soul arrives at either of these, 
 
 its state is unalterably fixed ? And God is not a man 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 175 
 
 • 
 
 that he should lie. ' Heaven and Earth shall pass 
 away," says the Saviour, " but not one jot or tittle of 
 my word shall fail." Dives did not ask to be released 
 from his misery : no, he too well knew his doom was 
 irreversible — therefore only asks to have his intolera- 
 ble burnings cooled ; but finds that in hell their can- 
 not be even mitigation, and then entreats a messenger 
 to be sent from the dead, to warn his brethren to es- 
 cape from the dreadful torments which he endured. 
 But to return : God has declared that a day of judg- 
 ment shall come in the which he will make an awful 
 display of his wrath, casting the wicked into hell, 
 "where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quench- 
 ed." I would ask, my dear sir, what these words of 
 the Lord import ; " then shall he say unto them on the 
 left hand, depart from me ye cursed, into everlasting 
 fire prepared for the devil and his angels?" Again, 
 "and these shall go away into everlasting punish- 
 ment?" Matthew, xxv. 41, 46. I remember to 
 have had a conversation with a Universalist who 
 said he firmly believed the whole race of Adam 
 would be saved. I replied, "what! do you think, 
 sir, those will be saved who die with horrid oaths 
 and bitter imprecations on their lips, awfully blas- 
 pheming the God who made them ?" He answer- 
 ed, " yes ! God is an all merciful Creator ; but such 
 characters will first go to a place of purgatory to re- 
 ceive punishment, and to be purified, that they may 
 be made fit for heaven." Alas! alas! surely this is 
 one of the cursed doctrines which has its origin from 
 Satan, who goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking 
 whom he may devour. This idea of the wicked 
 fceing punished for a while, then pardoned and receiv- 
 ed into glory, is inconsistent and spurious, totally op- 
 
176 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 posite to divine truth, altogether incompatible with the 
 justice and attributes of Jehovah. It entirely does 
 away the necessity for Christ's sufferings and death. 
 If by any other means we can be purified from our 
 dross, where is the need of a Saviour ? of what advan- 
 tage to us is the shedding of Christ's blood, if a short 
 suffering can absolve us from our guilt? The blood of 
 Jesus has no efficacy, and can be of no avail, if a few 
 years of punishment can cleanse us from sin. The 
 Scriptures inform us, that the blood of the Redeemer 
 cleanseth from all sin. What need then is there of a 
 purgatory ? Can we suppose that, if we do not love • 
 God in this world where we are surrounded with every 
 blessing, indulged with every luxury, and have every 
 inducement to make us adore the God of Heaven ; 
 where we are blessed with such gracious promises of 
 eternal life, and yet remain disobedient and altogether 
 reject him, that, by consigning us to some exquisite 
 tortures for a certain period we shall be brought to 
 love him ? The supposition is unreasonable — I should 
 imagine the contrary effect would be produced. Do 
 the devils, who have been bound in indissoluble fetters 
 for so many thousand years, love God more now than 
 when they were cast into the bottomless pit? are they 
 any nearer to perfection ? are they more purified ? 
 do we ever read in Scripture of their having any re- 
 morse of conscience, or godly sorrow for sin ? On the 
 contrary, we behold the chief of the infernal hosts 
 adding to his former guilt by endeavouring to tempt 
 the son of God, and by Iris delusive powers to per- 
 suade Christ to worship him — skilled tenfold more 
 in intrigue and baseness than at first. 
 
 If the angels who sinned are not yet made holy and 
 fit to be recerved again into heaven, in what time can 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 177 
 
 we suppose, that those of us who die in our sins, shall 
 be purged from our iniquities by sulphureous flames.* 
 Alas ! the words " everlasting", eternal, endless perdi- 
 tion" answer the inquiry. Millions and millions of 
 ages would not bring us nearer to the end, than when 
 we first heard the awful sentence, " depart ye cursed." 
 The command of Christ is to love God with all our 
 heart, and unless this is done, the most amiable cha- 
 racter cannot enter heaven. Is extreme punishment 
 calculated to excite love ? It may terrify and create 
 a longing desire to fly from pain, but the being who 
 inflicts the punishment will be eternally hated. I think 
 Universalists pretend to believe neither in a hell or 
 the fall of angels. Who then is that Satan that tempt- 
 ed Christ, and besought God to afflict Job r what evil 
 spirits were those whom Jesus cast out from the bodies 
 of men ? If Universalists can give a reasonable and 
 scriptural account of what race they are, unless they 
 are devils, who were once partakers of a holy nature, 
 then I will believe that ungodly souls may be saved. 
 If God does not intend that the wicked shall be eter- 
 nally punished, then he does not mean that the right- 
 eous shall be forever happy ; the same sacred lips have 
 pronounced both decrees. It is equally as probable, 
 that the saints will sin and fall again from Heaven, 
 as that the ungodly will become pure in eternity, txnd 
 rise to dwell with a holy God. Oh ! my friend, how 
 awfully do they mistake who believe a doctrine so 
 false ! Christ has suffered in the rooia of man, and 
 made a full atonement for sin. If the re ib any other 
 
 e The Devil and his angels have been to our knowle'^ nearhf 
 six thousand years in hell— a period sufficiently long *.o suffer, ii by 
 suffering we could be made righteous and they may have been there 
 thrice that time for what we know. 
 
178 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 way by which we can be cleansed from our pollutions 
 after we leave this earth, Christ did not complete the 
 redemption for which purpose he laid down his life. 
 If the advocates for this doctrine reject a part of scrip- 
 ture so important, they may as well relinquish the 
 whole, for they equally injure their own souls, and 
 those of others, by such a belief, as if they denied the 
 truth of the whole word of God. The infatuated be- 
 lievers of this pernicious doctrine do most shamefully 
 dishonour the Holy One of Israel, and awfully de- 
 preciate the blood, power, work, and merit, of the glo- 
 rious Redeemer ; and not only so, they make many 
 proselytes to their groundless faith, and send them 
 into the eternal world, filled with the hope of receiv- 
 ing a crown of glory. But alas i they awake to eter- 
 nal misery. Better to die without hope, than to en- 
 dure a disappointment so dreadful. The pernicious 
 tendency of this doctrine is, to cause the sinner to rest 
 unconcerned about a renovation of heart, and the 
 moralist to be content with his own good works. The 
 latter viewing God as being all merciful, imagines 
 his own righteousness will save him, or, that Christ's 
 and his, unitedly, will procure salvation. So long as 
 he docs not perpetrate any heinous crimes, he thinks 
 tlie mercy of God will wink at those of less note. 
 Thus he glides smoothly down the tide of life, fully 
 persuaded that after death he shall be received into 
 the regions of bliss. But, dreadful mistake! God is 
 too holy to wink at the smallest sin ; he will be satis- 
 tied with nothing but the whole heart. A change of 
 affections, entire obedience, and that righteousness 
 which is imputed through Christ, not our own self- 
 righteousness, which, at the best, is but as filthy rags, 
 is what God beholds with approbation. The profit 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 179 
 
 gate will say, let us eat, drink, and be merry ; let us 
 satiate ourselves with the pleasures of this life', a few 
 years of suffering in purgatory will be a sufficient 
 atonement for all. Such impious suggestions as the.e 
 will be produced by a belief of that doctrine. So 
 great is the love of pleasure, that thousands will not 
 shrink from the prospect of a certain length of suffer- 
 ing in a future state, for the sake of gratifying their 
 suifu! passions here. But alas ! could they experience 
 l0rone short >^ar the punishment due to sin, they 
 would not make so light of the matter, nor so pre- 
 sumptuously live. This doctrine, my friend, is simi- 
 lar to that which declares that baptism is regeneration. 
 iHey are equally dangerous, and both rob the Sa- 
 viour of his glory/and destroy the merit of his work 
 VVhere can such doctrines be found in the word of 
 l-*od . 'Tis strange that men will so pervert Scripture 
 and gladly moke a Saviour of any thing, rather than 
 the blood of Chpt, which was shed for the remission 
 ol sins. I have never, my dear sir, read any thin* 
 for or against universal salvation ; I once conversed 
 with a person who believed that doctrine, but my 
 knowledge of its principles is very limited. Let me 
 entreat you to search in the word of God for this doc- 
 trine. I have only given you a few tho.ughts on the 
 subject, ,„ the hope of exciting your curiosity, and 
 leading you to the Scriptures for satisfaction on this 
 important head. Let not man deceive you ; God has 
 declared, that those who die in sin, shall forever en- 
 dure its punishment. I beseech you to give this sub- 
 ject much consideration ; you know not, my friend 
 on what a dangerous precipice you stand, while halt- 
 ing between two opinions ; remember, you have al- 
 ready passed the meridian of life, and, at most, can 
 
ISO A MEDLEY OF 
 
 have but few years to live. Let me entreat you to 
 embrace the Saviour while it is in your power : the 
 time is short, we cannot call a moment our own. Oh ! 
 then, begin to think of the value of the soul, and of 
 the great importance of a change of heart. The 
 Saviour says, " ye must be born again, or ye cannot 
 enter into the kingdom of God.'' There is reason to 
 fear, my dear friend, that you have never experienced 
 this new birth ; forgive my plain dealing, it proceeds 
 from a sense of duty, and love to your immortal soul. 
 I could say much more to you on this very important 
 subject, but my health will not allow me. I fear I 
 have already tired you. I therefore only once more 
 repeat, and as with my dying breath, embrace the Sa- 
 viour ; while time and life are given, " prepare to 
 meet ihy God." Will you oblige me, my respected 
 friend, by giving this small admonition much reflec- 
 tion. Do not despise it ; it comes from the heart of 
 one who feels deeply interested in y$ur eternal welfare, 
 and ardently wishes to meet you in happy realms 
 above. If this little epistle is too presuming I ask 
 your forgiveness. Although I have made a profes- 
 sion of religion, and hope I have experienced a 
 change of heart, yet most sensibly do I feel my own 
 imperfections. If a child of God, I am the most un- 
 worthy ; totally undeserving of the least favour. That 
 every blessing may attend you through life, you enjoy 
 a glorious hope in death, and be admitted into the city 
 of God above, is the sincere wish of her who, hum- 
 bly and most affectionately, subscribes herself 
 
 Your Friend, 
 
 Eliza. 
 
JOY AND GRIKl 181 
 
 ON RECOVERING THE USE OF MY LIMBS AND BETTER 
 
 HEALTH. 
 
 Great and mysterious are thy ways, O God ! 
 
 How oft behind thy frowns await some good ; 
 
 But did not think so much was meant for me, 
 
 Till a philanthropist* was sent by thee. 
 
 So troubles gather in a frightful crowd, 
 
 When blessings are concealed behind the cloud : 
 
 Thus, gracious Father, hast thou dealt with me, 
 
 When tossM about on life's tempestuous sea; 
 
 Clouds gathered thick, and thou didst hide thy face, 
 
 But now I see the wonders of thy grace. 
 
 I little thought when on those boisterous seas, 
 
 That I should ever see such days as these — 
 
 The storm then threaten'd, and it seem'd severe, 
 
 But yet my kind, my gracious God was near. 
 
 Oh ! wisdom deep, profound ! how wise thy plan! 
 
 How far thy thoughts exceed the thoughts of man! 
 
 High as the heavens are all thy thoughts and ways — 
 
 All nature sings aloud thy wond'rous praise — 
 
 Distempers fly at thy all-wise command — 
 
 Nor earth nor hell can stay thy mighty hand. 
 
 Oh ! for the eloquence of grateful Paul, 
 
 To speak the language of my raptur'd soul; 
 
 Must I my joy and gratitude conceal, 
 
 For want of powers commensurate with zeal ? 
 
 Great God, do thou direct and guide me still ; 
 
 My mouth with praise and holy language fill ; 
 
 That 1 thy goodness may with joy record, 
 
 And speak the tender mercies of the Lord. 
 
 * Dr. J. S. of New- York. 
 Q 
 
182 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Now help the weak and sick to trust in thee, 
 And humbly wait, till thou shalt wisely see 
 In thine own time and way, to send relief; 
 " Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief." 
 Ye weary souls now lingering with disease, 
 Who sigh and weep, and toil to gain release, 
 JBe not cast down, since God did smile on me 
 When hope was gone, and set the pris'ner free. 
 
 " Just at the last distressing hour 
 
 The Lord displays delivering power." Watts, 
 In deep distress, through long revolving years, 
 I sigh'd and languish' d on a bed of tears, 
 But He who saw my tears, and heard me pray, 
 Sent down relief in his appointed way : 
 Through means, though human, yet a skilful hand. 
 The blessing, health, returns at his command; 
 And though its progress seems to be but slow- 
 Yet He who sends can make it spring and grow 
 When I review the state in which I've been — 
 Look at the hopeful case I now am in — 
 Think on the power that interpos'd so kind — 
 Late mercies and past woes recall to mind — 
 Compare the present with my former state — 
 What mix'd emotions doth the change create ? 
 These mercies, Lord, my rising soul surveys, 
 And fill my heart with wonder, love and praise. 
 Indulgent God, since thou hast rais'd my hope 5 
 O ! kindly deign to raise the suffrer up : 
 O ! grant relief from all my former pain, 
 And condescend to give me health again ; 
 Thy mercy and thy favour still bestow, 
 That I in faith and love may daily grow : 
 Daily bestow on me thy heavenly grace, 
 ^And guide me in the path that leads to peace* 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 1S3 
 
 My first and warmest thanks I give to thee, 
 
 Who hast perform'd such wond'rous things for me : 
 
 Next, I must own much gratitude is due 
 
 To that kind friend whose skill the means 1 view; 
 
 Then one thing more I ask of thee, O Lord, 
 
 Give my physician a divine reward : 
 
 With peace and plenty crown his days below, 
 
 And after death a glorious crown bestow, 
 
 Now let my soul in grateful anthems raise 
 
 Her songs of love to my Redeemer's praise. 
 
 Assist the off'rings of my stammering tongue : 
 
 Great is the work, O Lord, which thou hast done — 
 
 While I have breath thy goodness I'll record, 
 
 And sing the loving kindness of the Lord. 
 
 New-York, 25th April, 1819. 
 
 TO MR. A, M. MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 1820. 
 
 Son of vicissitude! but child of God 1 
 Sink not beneath thy Father's chast'ning rod; 
 The Lord hath helped you in six troubles great, 
 And will in seven, if at his throne you wait. 
 
 Great are thy trials, but far greater still 
 Were his who groan'd and bled on Calv'ry's hill : 
 Strong are thy enemies, and sharp their blows, 
 But far more cruel were the Saviour's foes. 
 
 Jesus drank deeply of the cup of wo : 
 
 The floods of sorrows did his breast o'erflow ; 
 
184 a MEDLEY OF 
 
 "Quainted with grief, a " man of sorrows'' he 
 While in the flesh — and fared much worse than we, 
 
 But he has dropp'd his cumb'rous weeds of clay, 
 And risen triumphant to the realms of day ; 
 Entered the heavens, and now he reigns on high, 
 Yet with compassion hears the mourner's cry. 
 
 He hears thy groans, and knows thy faithful heart, 
 And for thy good permits it long to smart ; 
 Though deep the sting, and great thy cause of grief. 
 Yet in his own good time he'll send relief. 
 
 Though Satan rage, and mighty thunders roll, 
 Threat'ning destruction to thy troubled soul ; 
 Be not dismay'd — the God of vengeance reigns, 
 And holds the serpent fast in mighty chains. 
 
 Be thou but valiant, faithful, strong and bold, 
 And thou thy great deliverer shalt behold : 
 No weapon aim'd against thy soul shall stand, 
 For thou art guarded by the Almighty's hand . 
 
 Oh son of wo ! let this thy comfort be — 
 That Christ is touched with thy infirmity; 
 He bears a part in all thy griefs and pain, 
 And kindly will thy weary soul sustain. 
 
 In all thy woes his sympathetic heart 
 Is deeply mov'd, and shares a feeling part: 
 But he permits thy trials here, to prove 
 Thy faith and patience, and to try thy love. 
 
 Thou faithful Herald of the most high God I 
 All things shall work together for thy good : 
 
 i 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 1S5 
 
 Whom the Lord loveth, them he will chastise, 
 To increase their love, and make their praises rise. 
 
 We must be in the furnace tried while here, 
 To purge the dross, and make the geld appear : 
 But, while we pass the fire, our gracious God 
 Will not permit the flames to touch our head. 
 
 In his pavilion he will hide thy soul, 
 While troubles rise and foaming billows rollf 
 He'll set thy feet upon a rock, and show 
 The boist'rous waters raging far below. 
 
 They seek thy hurt and would destroy thy peace ; 
 Then blast thy character, and thy woes increase: 
 But be not daunted — nor man's threat'nings fear, ; 
 For Israel's God and great deliverer's near. 
 
 He who brought Israel through the crimson sea, 
 Will also kindly interpose for thee ; 
 The evil workers in the flood he'll drown, 
 And on their ruin raise his own renown. 
 
 But you triumphant, after death, shall rise, 
 And meet the mighty monarch in the skies; 
 For ever with him, and the heavenly train, 
 Your ransom'd spirit shall in glory reign. 
 
 Q2 
 
186 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 GRATEFUL EXERCISES OF MIND. 
 
 January, 1819. 
 
 Thy name, oh Withington, shall grace my muse; 
 
 Thy constant bounty merits my applause; 
 
 Thou art my friend, a friend in time of need ; 
 
 A second father thou hast been to me, 
 
 And kindly hast supplied the place of him 
 
 Whose scanty means could not relieve my wants. 
 
 Oh generous, noble, and kind-hearted man \ 
 
 How deep my obligations are to thee, 
 
 And her, (thy wife,) whose liberal heart permits 
 
 Thy hand the gracious bounties to bestow. 
 
 My father, mother ! let me speak your praise, 
 
 Your goodness overwhelms my thankful heart. 
 
 I owe you much. — To you [ am in debt, 
 
 (Through God) for all the comforts I enjoy. 
 
 Not half your goodness can my pen record ; 
 
 Kind are your gifts and delicately bestow'd. 
 
 When I behold my cheerful fire burn, 
 
 Feel the great good of that and warm attire, 
 
 My heart breaks out in grateful strains like these: 
 
 " All these," I cry, " are my dear friends' kind gifts ; 
 
 Their friendly hearts compassionate my woes. 
 
 Rais'd by a kind and gracious power above, 
 
 To sympathize, and well supply my wants, 
 
 They, like the good Samaritan, appear 
 
 Andbind the wounds that have so often bled." 
 
 What should I now do were it not for thee, 
 
 Oh Withington ! my kind and valued friend ? 
 
 Ofttimes I sit and on thy goodness muse, 
 
 Recount my mercies from the hand of God, 
 
 Praise, and heavenward breathe a grateful prayer ; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 18*: 
 
 Lift up my tearful eyes, and bless the hand 
 That hath bestow'd so great a boon on me; 
 Invoke best blessings on thy honoured head, 
 And ask to have thy life prolong'd below, 
 And meet thee after death to part no more. 
 Ah ! should the mandate soon to earth descend 
 For kindred spirits to bear thy soul to heaven, 
 Where should J go to find a friend like thee, 
 Who would so kindly share his means with me P 
 Who would support me, and my need supply, 
 If thou, my father, and your wife should die ? 
 What shall I do, alas ! when you are gone ? 
 
 Must I to scenes of return ? 
 
 Must I again, 
 
 To sigh, and languish on a bed of pain ? 
 Be driven as I was in years that's past, 
 By the rude gale and same unceasing blast? 
 Return to have my hopes again cut oft* 
 From the sweet labours and the joys of life ? 
 In pensive shades to feel my health decline, 
 And waste the golden hours of precious time? 
 Oh ! melancholy, sad, distressing thought ! 
 With the idea my mind's with terror fraught. 
 Then stay below, my much lov'd friends, oh stay ■ 
 For my sake wing not yet your flight away. 
 Live long below, to cheer Eliza's heart, 
 For her best friends are gone when you depart. 
 Should you first make your exit from this ball, 
 I'd lose my dearest friends, I'd lose my all. 
 Friends I have many, who are friends indeed ; 
 Their faithfulness they've prov'd in time of need; 
 My grateful thanks and love to them are due, 
 But I stand most in debt, dear friends, to you. 
 When you, my friends, are on a sick bed laid, 
 
188 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 And think the time of dissolution nigh} 
 If sense permit, will you remember me, 
 And send and bid me hasten to your couch, 
 To render you some little kindness there, 
 For the much service you have done for me ? 
 Tis my heart's desire, and my fervent wish, 
 To see you in the solemn hour of death, 
 To take a last farewell, to press your hands, 
 Mingle my tears with those who weep your death, 
 Watch o'er you till I see you breathe no more. 
 My fancy paints the sad scene while I write ; 
 Your dear remains are taken from my sight, 
 And I retire to vent my pungent grief, 
 And look to God for kind and sure relief. 
 Yet, while I weep my joyful hopes arise 
 
 To meet my generous friends above the skies. 
 
 Methinks I see their clay-cold frames let down, 
 Oh woful sight ! they sink beneath the ground, 
 
 " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" return'd ; 
 
 Then lift my eyes and view them safe above, 
 
 Lock'd in the arms of everlasting love. 
 
 They're gone — farewell my honoured friends ! adieu f 
 
 Now could 1 die, and rise to God and you. 
 
 But cease my tears, I dream — the vision's o'er — 
 
 I only thought that they from earth were gone. 
 
 Blest truth ! they have not made their exit yet ; 
 
 They live, and daily prove their friendly care 
 
 By acts of kindness, and by tender love. 
 
 They live, the Lord be prais'd, and grant they may 
 
 OutUve the object they with care protect : 
 
 Live to see me go, and lay me in the dust. 
 
 Oh that my spirit may the first be call'd 
 
 To leave the field of action and depart ! 
 
 And if I should my ardent wish obtain, 
 
JOY AND GRIE* . 189 
 
 Say, will you come, (if I should let you know,) 
 
 To see my worthless spirit take its flight, 
 
 And hear me with my dying lips confess 
 
 My obligations, and my thanks express, 
 
 My true affection, and my deep regret 
 
 That I no better tokens leave behind ? 
 
 When the last debt of gratitude is paid, 
 
 I'll bid adieu, in hopes to meet again 
 
 In the ne*t world, on Canaan's happy shore, 
 
 Where tears and parting sighs are known no more 
 
 Live, live my dearest friends, to close my eyes, 
 
 Then drop your clay, and meet me in the skies. 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 New-York. Jan. 181 9. 
 
 My friend, 
 I have somewhat against you, and did I not feel 
 in the best of humours, I should fill this sheet with 
 the pleasant language of a scold; but as I do not 
 feel disposed to be quarrelsome, 1 shall merely ask 
 with composure, why you have forgotten to make 
 good your promise ? Did you not tell me, when you 
 brought me home from your father's, that you would 
 let me know either before you left here, or on your 
 
 arrival at D , by letter, in what a frame you left 
 
 us ? Had it not been for your good mother's letter, 
 I should not have known whether you departed with 
 a smile or a tear. 
 
 So no thanks, my good friend, to you for the in- 
 formation. But enough on that head. I am pleased 
 at what I have heard, and as I said before, I am in 
 
190 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 too good a humour to jangle ; when I see yon, I wilt 
 then chide you for keeping me in suspense. Pray 
 tell me how you amuse yourself in your leisure hours 
 this winter, that is, if you have any ; perhaps your 
 practice is so extensive as not to admit of any, or, at 
 least, not many spare moments : I am so much your 
 friend as to wish this may be the case. Do you find 
 that you can make yourself happy and contented with- 
 out following the giddy round of pleasure ? Is the 
 loss of the drawing room, the theatre, and assemblies, 
 a matter of any regret to you? or, are you convinced 
 that a domesticated life is preferable to a life of plea- 
 sure? 
 
 If ever you mean to marry, which I presume you 
 do, I hope the woman that you intend to mark out to 
 be a participater in your future lot, may be fond of 
 
 domestic scenes. Indeed, my dear J , it is parti- 
 
 cularly necessary that she should, since you have set- 
 tled in a place where the gayety of the brilliant circle 
 is not emulated; because if she is not, neither of you 
 can expect to enjoy that real felicity you otherwise 
 would. A woman fond of gay life, and habituated 
 to it, would find it no easy matter to be content with 
 what she would call the dull and insipid scenes of a 
 country village in winter. I am very certain, my 
 dear friend, that there is no true happiness to be found 
 in treading the steps of the thoughtless and dissi- 
 pated crowd, either in a state of celibacy or in the 
 nuptial state. 
 
 If a domestic man marries a gay woman, and if she 
 is sincerely attached to him, and is a person of an 
 amiable temper, good understanding, and possesses 
 sensibility, she might perhaps acquiesce, and conform 
 to the reasonable wishes of her husband ; and she cer- I 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 191 
 
 Mainly ought, especially in things of such little mo- 
 ment, however fond she may be of false- pleasures — 
 but if her attachment is not ardent, nor her temper 
 and understanding good, such submission may not be 
 expected — and such a man's state would not be en^ 
 viable. 
 
 It is often a matter of surprise to me, that those in 
 the married state can be so fond of dissipation. That 
 the husband can leave his wife, and the wife her hus- 
 band and smiling babes, which is too, too often the 
 case, and go in search of pleasures which are as 
 evanescent as the dew, and as unsatisfactory as po- 
 verty would be to a hungry appetite. They whose 
 houses are continually crowded with company, or, 
 they themselves constantly attending parties of plea- 
 sure, must be strangers to the delights of a retired 
 life. Their time and thoughts are so engaged in vain 
 pursuits, that they have no leisure for private scenes ; 
 therefore cannot know any thing of the sweet joys de- 
 rived from domestic gratifications. I am most asto- 
 nished at wives who can leave their families so perpe- 
 tually as many do, and pursue vain, trifling amuse- 
 ments : because their households certainly must be 
 neglected, and in time (which alas ! is too often the 
 case) the husband is plunged into difficulties ; and the 
 consequences often are very fatal. 
 
 Much depends, I think, on a woman, whether a man 
 rises or falls ; a woman to be qualified for the matri- 
 monial state ought to be possessed of great prudence, 
 good management, and tender feelings. If a man is 
 domesticated, and diligent in business, and has a ju- 
 dicious wife, if no uncontrollable circumstances occur, 
 no inauspicious providence takes place, there is not 
 much danger of his prosperity. I know that the 
 
192 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 best, and most wise and prudent, will sometimes en- 
 counter the vicissitudes of this changing world, and 
 not be blameable for their calamities. Many suffer 
 through the folly of others. One family may be 
 ruined through the misconduct of another, or by some 
 giddy, thoughtless relative; else by a general hard 
 pressure of the times, which in the course of men's 
 lives more or less take place. But in the general, if 
 domestic, prudent men make choice of women whose 
 minds are rightly cultivated, and whose habits are 
 well formed from childhood, by example and proper edu- 
 cation, there is little doubt of their happiness and ad- 
 vancement in life. Women ought to be particularly 
 careful to retain the affections of a man, after mar- 
 riage ; so ought men the same with their wife. Too 
 many think when the object is obtained there is no- 
 thing more to do, but how awfully do they mistake : 
 there is greater need of exertion afterwards than be- 
 fore, to keep alive those feelings which are so essential 
 to happiness in married life. I have known couples, 
 which have been most sincerely and mutually attach- 
 ed, owing to that neglect which too many practice, 
 in time grow careless and indifferent to each other ; 
 and which in my estimation is a dreadful thing. This 
 baneful evil may only be on the part of the one at 
 first, but a continuation of it in time will produce the 
 effect in the other ; and both become so much es- 
 tranged, and stoical in their feelings, as to completely 
 destroy all that unity, tenderness, and ardour which 
 ought to subsist between man and wife ; and without 
 which a married life must be a dull, insipid state — a 
 single state would be far more desirable. Did you 
 ever read " The Guide to Happiness ?" I am told 
 that it is an admirable work on the subject. Four- 
 
JOi' A.ND GRIEF. 193 
 
 teen years ago I came across it, I opened it for a mo- 
 ment, and was much struck with two lines beneath the 
 frontispiece — and whenever I can, I take the oppor- 
 tunity of sounding them in the ear, or bringing them 
 before the eye of my young friends, who I think are 
 in a fair way to be led to the altar of Hymen — so you 
 must not think strange if I embrace this opportunity 
 of presenting them to you, as I know you to be in a 
 prospective state. It is but in few words, but they 
 are of great import : 
 
 " Think not the object gain'd that all is done, 
 The prize of happiness must still be won." 
 
 Oh that these lines could be graven with an iron 
 pen in the foreheads or on the hearts of all young peo- 
 ple when they first enter that station : it might'excite 
 that faithful monitor (the conscience) and remind her 
 of duty. Our conscience sometimes needs a stimulus, 
 for it will sometimes fall into a torpid state, and wants 
 something to rouse it from its lethargy. 
 
 I often think, my dear J , when I lie and hear 
 
 the carriages rolling the votaries of pleasure alono- 
 the streets in the dead of night, how madly they live, 
 how vainly they pursue a phantom and grasp at a sha- 
 dow. How often during my affliction, when the chil- 
 dren of vanity have been coming from the neighbour- 
 ing houses at midnight, while hearing them with mirth 
 and elevated voices ascending their vehicles to return 
 to their respective homes, to throw themselves on the 
 pillow of ease, and, as they imagine, to felicitate them- 
 selves with ruminating on the past evening's diversion, 
 and to anticipate the pleasure of the next night's 
 amusement; I have exclaimed, alas! how do you de- 
 
194 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 ceive yourselves, oh ye sons and daughters of dissi- 
 pation, when you recline on your beds and exercise 
 your imagination on what you have seen, and on fan- 
 cied joys to come ; how the vision flies ere you close 
 your eyelids, and leaves an empty aching void be- 
 hind. I feel truly sensible, my dear friend, that if we 
 could but search the hearts of those who run the gid- 
 dy round, that we should find three parts out of four 
 who water their couch with the tears of misery, after 
 all their anticipations, and, ere they sink to slumber, 
 wish it was otherwise with them. Ye gay and 
 thoughtless race, I envy not your mad career ; hap- 
 pier, far happier and better off am I in this state of 
 painful languishing with the enjoyment of God, and 
 the prospect of heaven, than you with all your fleet- 
 ing pleasures and present prosperity. 
 
 O children of folly, be not so deluded by the false 
 and flattering things of sense, but be wise as rational 
 beings ; such as God created you : and seek those 
 pleasures which will give peace and happiness on a dy- 
 ing bed. 
 
 Do not think, my friend, that I am an enemy to so- 
 cial life ; far from it ; and from what you have seen 
 and know of me you must be sensible that I am not ; 
 life would indeed be very dull and tasteless without 
 society. I even think it highly necessary for our ani- 
 mal spirits, that we should devote some hours, as cir- 
 cumstances will admit, to the enjoyment of the reason- 
 able recreations of life ; but they ought to be such as 
 will be of service to the mind and body too. There 
 are many amusements which, while they tend to en- 
 hance our health, might prove beneficial also to our 
 souls — for instance, when you are spending an hour 
 with your dog and gun, with your horse, or at angling. 
 
JOY AND GRILF. J95 
 
 t might all be done to the glory of the Creator, if 
 done with a proper temper of mind. 
 
 He who formed us, my dear friend, is not an unrea- 
 sonable being: he does not require all labour and no 
 enjoyment. The things that lie hath so bountifully 
 provided for our pleasures here, prove that he is not 
 an illiberal Creator — he has formed us for society, and 
 does not deny us the previlege of meeting with one or 
 two, or a friendly half dozen, to chat and pass a plea- 
 sant hour : he has made creation for our use and plea- 
 sure, and we may ramble through the groves and 
 fields, and gaze and delight ourselves with the rich 
 display of infinite wisdom, all which may be done 
 without sin, and with profit to our spirits and health. 
 Then there is the flute, the pen, and the book, all pro- 
 vided for our use; and a hundred more sports there 
 are to engage the attention, and exercise the body 
 and mind in an innocent and pleasurable way, after 
 the business of the day is over, or when opportunity 
 offers. And from all these recreations some good 
 might be derived, if accompanied with a contempla- 
 tive turn of mind and rightlv used. Every thing of 
 this kind might lead us to see the beauty, wisdom, 
 and goodness of God to his creatures. An inspired 
 penman commands whatever is done, for us to do it 
 to the glory of God, whether it be in the smaller or 
 greater things of life : therefore it is our indispensa- 
 ble duty to use the things of this world as not abusing 
 them. How far preferable are such recreations which 
 1 have mentioned, to the vain, fatigoing, laborious 
 amusements of the drawing room, theatre, &c. &c. &c 
 
 Do you not prefer D to the wild confusions 
 
 and vanities of a gay city? But I fear I shall tire 
 you with moralizing. Pray cover all my defects with 
 
196 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 a veil of charity, and accept of this scrawl as an apo- 
 logy for not answering your last kind favour. C * 
 
 sits prating by my side, and desires me to send her 
 best wishes for your happiness henceforth. 
 
 I am, with every sentiment of friendship and grati- 
 tude, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Eliza, 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON RECEIVING A FAVOUR FROM 
 AN ABSENT FRIEND * 
 
 18J5- 
 
 To thee my God ! my life, my love, 
 
 My best and dearest friend ! 
 My highest gratitude is due, 
 
 And therefore shall ascend. 
 
 God is the source from whence my joySj 
 
 And all my mercies flow ; 
 He raises friends, he gives them hearts 
 
 Kind favours to bestow. 
 
 Perennial blessings from above, 
 
 Unceasingly descend ; 
 How kind is Heaven ! how good is God I 
 
 A worm thus to befriend ! 
 
 Father ! thy love o'erwhelms my soul ? 
 
 Amidst my long distress ; 
 Language is quite inadequate 
 
 My feelings to express. 
 
 * Mrs. H * * t. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 197 
 
 Help me, O Lord I with thankful voice 
 
 A grateful song to-raise ; 
 I want an angel's heart and tongue, 
 
 More ardently to praise. 
 
 On thy dear child thy choicest gifts 
 
 Perpetually bestow; 
 Let blessings like a copious stream 
 
 Around her daily flow. 
 
 For your great goodness, O my friend ! 
 
 What can or shall I say . ? 
 Kindly you think of me a worm,. 
 
 Although so far away ! 
 
 Soft-breathing zephyrs bear my love 
 
 To pay dear absent friend ; 
 Tell her an overflowing heart 
 
 Ami my best thanks I send. 
 
 Say that I long to see her face 
 
 And talk of heavenly things ; 
 With speed I'd fly and reach her place, 
 
 Had I but feather'd wings. 
 
 .MEDITATION. 
 
 May C, 182J. 
 
 When Israel brought up the ark of God from the 
 house of Obed-edom, it is said that when the Lord 
 helped the Levites that bore the ark of the covenant, 
 they slew seven bullocks and made an offering to God, 
 
 R2 
 
198 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 and David, with all Israel rejoiced with exceeding 
 great joy. And shall not I, who have still greater 
 cause for gratitude and gladness, break out in praise 
 and acknowledgments of the goodness and mercy of 
 God, who hath delivered my soul out of darkness, 
 bondage and fear, and who hath taken me into his 
 banqueting house, and extended over me his banner 
 of love? Yes, awake thou my soul, and confess the 
 beneficence of heaven — sing to his praise, and rejoice 
 in his strength ; for great is his power and wisdom ; 
 his faithfulness endureth from generation to genera- 
 tion. What constant thanks are due to my heavenly 
 Father, for the continuation of the many blessings 
 which surround me — " Bless the Lord, O my soul, 
 and all that is within me bless and magnify his holy 
 name." When I consider the long protracted and 
 painful malady under which I have laboured for many 
 years, I have abundant cause for thankfulness, for my 
 reason remains unimpaired, and not any of the or- 
 gans of sense the least injured. This appears mar- 
 vellous in the eyes of physicians, and all who have 
 beheld my affliction. I stand amazed and exclaim — 
 nothing but a providential power could have kept this 
 frail engine in perfect order through the violence of 
 such a strange disease ! It is the hand divine that 
 keeps this organ in tune— oh unspeakable mercy ! 
 
 Fourteen long years have I now languished in pain 
 and weakness — but some of my happiest moments 
 have been while on a sick bed. Amidst all my vicis- 
 situdes my cup of joy has overflowed — my God was 
 with me, his exhilarating presence made a sick bed 
 cheerful and smooth. In all my sickness he made my 
 bed, and fed my soul on green pastures, and caused 
 it to lie down by the side of still waters ; while his 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 199 
 
 kind hand bestowed peace and consolation. Added 
 to all this, the Lord has brought me lately out of many 
 troubles — he hath delivered my soul from the horrible 
 pit — turned night into day, and darkness into light : 
 and caused his countenance to shine gloriously on 
 me again, after a long privation of these blessings, 
 which my ingratitude occasioned. How great the 
 mercy in having them restored ! how vast is the cle- 
 mency of God ! Did David dance with all his strength 
 before the ark ? — Rejoice then, oh my soul, with all 
 thy might before thy God ; for as the Lord delivered 
 David from the hands of his enemies, and restored to 
 Israel the ark, so hath he done for thee ; in that he 
 hath delivered thee from darkness and the power of 
 Satan, and caused his candle once more to shine 
 brightly around thy tabernacle. Let praises flow 
 from my heart, and gratitude ascend to my gracious 
 Father, and great advocate above, with every breath 
 while strength and being last. When I reflect on the 
 goodness of my God, my heart accuses me of ingra- 
 titude — oh what poor returns have I made to him for 
 such rich displays of his love, and his perpetual care 
 of me through the storms of tribulation ! Ah Lord ! 
 " if thou wert strict to mark iniquity who could stand ?" 
 What a monument of mercy am I ! Oh Lord, I 
 stand condemned before thee ! Were T rewarded ac- 
 cording to my desert, I should be cast off with those 
 who are without hope. But vile as I am, I can be 
 justified through Christ, who was slain for the trans- 
 gressions of his people. The promise is not of works, 
 but of grace; and that through faith in the blood of 
 the Lamb. So bless the Lord, oh my soul ! 
 
200 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 LONGING FOR IMMORTAL JOYS. 
 
 May 7, 1821. 
 
 My soul languishes for a sight of those transcend- 
 ent charms which angels on high behold. My Fa- 
 ther and my Redeemer, oh when shall I see thee as 
 thou art? When will thy brightest glories be unveiled 
 to these longing eyes ? When shall I traverse the 
 golden hills above, and drink from that pure river, 
 " the streams whereof make glad the city of God ?" 
 When shall I appear before thee whom my soul loveth, 
 taste the unseen joys that surround thy throne, and 
 join the saints in the rapturous song of redeeming 
 love ? when shall this mortal put on immortality, and 
 rise to dwell at thy right hand for evermore ? When 
 shall I be rid of sin, and clothed with the robe of 
 Christ's righteousness? When shall I see him face to 
 face, and be like unto him ? A few days more of sor- 
 row and trouble, or, at most, a few more years of 
 conflict, vigilance and prayer in this vale of tears, 
 and thou shalt be brought to the desired haven. Oh 
 rapturous thought, transporting moment ! When the 
 brittle thread of life shall break, and free the prisoner 
 from this dark gulf, to soar and bask in the bright- 
 ness of unclouded Deity ; no more to fee] the sting 
 of sin, and drink the cup of wo ! Oh glorious period 
 that shall translate the wear}' traveller to celestial 
 scenes, and where she hopes to meet him who was 
 dear to her on earth, to sing in immortal strains the 
 song of Moses and the Lamb! Oh my beloved Fa- 
 ther! should I arrive at heaven and find thee there, 
 my pleasures would be increased ; at least, it would 
 give my glad spirit new delight, enhance my grati- 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 201 
 
 tilde to the Saviour, and raise my song of. praise still 
 higher. I am sick of sin, and all that has a sinful 
 appearance; when shall I be favoured with a sight of 
 those glories that emanate from God, and have a full 
 experience of eternal love ? 
 
 I pant for heaven, for God I pine ; 
 Fast speed j'our way ye wheels of time, 
 And haste the dear delightful day, 
 When Christ shall call my soul away, 
 And welcome me to rest. 
 
 But while it is thy good will and pleasure to keep 
 me here, wilt thou bestow more light on my be- 
 nighted soul ? I long for more exalted conceptions 
 of thy character, greater displays of thy perfections, 
 and larger portions of thy grace. I want my faith 
 increased, my affections warmed, my spirit animated, 
 my thoughts weaned from this world, and fixed entire- 
 ly on Christ's glorious person. Indulgent Father ! 
 bestow these favours — I ask no more than thou hast 
 promised. Deny me not, my gracious Father, but 
 for thy Son's sake bestow the covenant gifts which I 
 invoke, and which thy word bids me ask for with 
 boldness. 
 
 Why these intense desires, 
 
 And breathings after God ? 
 Why do my towering thoughts aspire 
 
 To uncreated good ? 
 
 What makes these sinful lips 
 
 To bless and praise the Lord ? 
 What makes my joyful heart to glow 
 
 When it communes with God ? 
 
202 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 ; Tis by a power divine 
 
 My ardent thoughts are drawn; 
 
 Grace makes this longing soul of mine, 
 With sacred love to burn. 
 
 The drawing pow'rs of him 
 
 Whose nature is divine, 
 And who, in all his works and ways. 
 
 Transcendently doth shine. 
 
 His vital beams excite 
 
 The ardour of my soul, 
 And make these emanations rise 
 
 Beneath his blest control. 
 
 His vast intrinsic worth 
 Arrests my warmest love ; 
 
 His virtues and his clemency, 
 My highest passions move. 
 
 Grace kindled first the flame, 
 And made the blaze to rise ; 
 
 And grace my passions shall increase," 
 Till far above the skies. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM MY JOURNAL. 
 
 May 25, 1821. 
 
 The Lord has again laid his hand upon me ; he 
 sees fit to continue the rod ; he knows there is a needs 
 be for it, and when he thinks proper he will remove 
 it. There is yet much dross to be purged, before the 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 203 
 
 fire will be quenched. The great Refiner intends to 
 purify the gold before he brings it forth, and, for that 
 end, keeps me in the furnace : when he hath suffi- 
 ciently tried me. I shall come forth from the fire, and 
 appear as gold seven times purified. O Jesus ! my 
 Saviour, my heavenly friend ! sanctify my affliction, 
 if it be not thy will to remove it. Grant that it may 
 draw my affections more closely to thee, and wean my 
 frail heart from this vain, and delusive world. I trust I 
 do love thee, but I fain would love thee more ! Yes 
 my gracious Redeemer and my God ! if I know any 
 thing of my heart, I know that I love thee. Whv 
 should not thy creature love thee ? The works of 
 thine own hand adore thee ! thou hast commanded it. 
 ,Thou art entitled to my first and highest thoughts; 
 thou hast the greatest claim on my affections ; for thou 
 bast created me, and dost continually supply me with 
 every good. I, as a mortal, rational creature, stand 
 more deeply indebted to thee than any other living 
 thing. Man alone has power to comprehend the per- 
 fections of thy spotless character, to discern the 
 beauty and excellence of thy holiness; therefore, hav- 
 ing this blessed knowledge, although faint to what it 
 will be in the invisible world, how can he forbear to 
 love thee, after having seen the glories of thy charac- 
 ter ? O my soul ! love thy Maker with all thy heart 
 and thy neighbour as thyself. Let thy glory be in 
 the strength of the Lord, for thy own strength is per- 
 fect weakness. My father and my friend ! may not 
 a worm presume to call thee by those endearing names ? 
 have I not tasted of thy saving grace ? am I not thine 
 by the sweetest ties of covenant love, and thou mine 
 by glorious promise ? What transporting pleasure do 
 the names of Father, Saviour, Friend, convey to my 
 
204 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 heart? To call thee mine affords greater delight to 
 the soul, than to possess the wealth of India's land. 
 
 My Father and my God ! from these blessed names 
 springs all my comfort. What would life be without 
 the knowledge of a God ! without his smiles life would 
 be a blank, creation a void ; but with the favour and 
 presence of God, the meanest part of creation ap- 
 pears beautiful. All my happiness depends upon 
 God ; when he withdraws his face I am miserable ; 
 but when he smiles joy returns again. Thus is my 
 felicity centred in hirn ; my nearest joys and dearest 
 friends cannot supply the place of my Saviour's 
 smiles. If clouds of darkness obscure my sky, no 
 other sun can warm my drooping soul, disperse the 
 gloom, and make all heaven appear around. 
 
 He is my sun, my shield, and tow'r, 
 
 My happiness and bliss ; 
 And if he hides, my soul appears 
 
 Clos'd in a dark abyss, 
 
 Envelop'd in thick darkness, then 
 
 I sigh the hours away, 
 Nor will my heart its throbbing cease, 
 
 Till Christ his beams display. 
 
 And if his lucid rays on me 
 
 Their vital radiance shed, 
 Then he, my bright returning sun, 
 
 Revives my drooping head. 
 
 Till he in perfect splendour shine, 
 
 And clouds and darkness flee, 
 Not friends nor all the world beside, 
 
 Can yield delight to me. 
 
JOY A.ND GRIEi. 20 
 
 i$ut when he smiles, then clouds and friends, 
 The earth and sparkling skies, 
 
 Seem all to wear a brighter hue, 
 And make my pleasures rise. 
 
 Though pain and affliction crush my powers, let 
 me not dwell on them, but think on my mercies ; for 
 the loving kindness of God far exceeds my sorrows. 
 
 Be glad O my soul ! and rejoice in the Lord 
 For the joys and the comforts his mercies afford : 
 Oh ! let no repining escape from thy breast, 
 Look forward with hope to thy sweet promis'd rest ; 
 Soon pain, and afflictions, and conflicts will cease, 
 And thy soul be conveyM to the haven of peace, 
 W here thy joys shall for ever and ever increase ; 
 Then take up the cross, and with patience endure, 
 The conflict is short, the victory is sure. 
 Oh ! what are my pains when compar'd to my crown. 
 And the love of that glorious Prince of renown ? 
 And what are my griefs to the bliss I shall see, 
 And the joys which my Jesus has laid up for me? 
 His smiles and his grace are so dear to my heart, 
 That suffering is nothing. 'Tis nothing to smart, 
 For the sake of my glorious Saviour on high, 
 Whose love for my soul induced him to die. 
 What pangs and what stripes did my Jesus endure. 
 To redeem me from hell, and my weal to secure. 
 My bruises all are as a drop to the sea, 
 To what my Redeemer encounter'd for me. 
 When I view his deep sorrows on Calvary's hill, 
 I chide me and bid all my murmurings be still : 
 When I look on his wounds, and think that my sins 
 Were the spear and the nails that tortured his limbs, 
 
206 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Then I think of his groans as he hung on the tree. 
 
 And see that he bore all those sufferings for me. 
 
 My sins were the murderers that caused my best friend, 
 
 On the sad cross his bright glory to bend ; 
 
 His last dying groans verb'rate on my ear, 
 
 And the ponderous weight of his sufferings appear. 
 
 I blush when I murmur, to think I repine 
 
 At trials and crosses so trifling as mine. 
 
 Christ suffer'd for me, for my sins he was slain, 
 
 He laid down his life my lost peace to regain ; 
 
 I put the immaculate Jesus to pain, 
 
 Confusion then seize me whene'er I complain. 
 
 Staten Island, July 9, 1821. 
 
 My gracious God still keeps me in the furnace, but 
 through grace I am enabled to bless and praise him, 
 even amidst the flames. The family with whom I 
 board were greatly astonished at my sufferings yester- 
 day. Never shall I forget their kindness. The Lord 
 gives me tender friends wherever I go. Oh how great 
 a debtor am I to sovereign mercy ! Oh the invinci- 
 ble grace and irresistible will of God ! Who can 
 stand his almighty arrows when he commands them 
 to penetrate the heart ? In years that are past, I 
 found that it was not possible to resist the power of 
 God, when it was his will to take possession of my 
 rebellious heart; nor, in latter years, whenever I wan- 
 der. When he lets his arrows fly, and pierces my 
 inmost soul, I become as one melted by the overpow- 
 ering rays of the sun. I sink, become passive, and 
 am made willing to surrender. Like a poor penitent 
 criminal, I am even glad to sue for mercy, and rejoice 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 207 
 
 xo obtain forgiveness, and long again to be restored 
 to peace, and feel constrained by Almighty goodness 
 to return to the happy paths from which my feet have 
 wandered. None of the sheep of Christ will ever be 
 lost for the want of mercy, power and skill to extri- 
 cate them from the thickest maze, or, 
 
 To draw them from the deepest gulf of sin 
 Which their great follies may have plungM them in. 
 Despair not ye, who through temptation fall, 
 Repent, and God will extricate your soul ; 
 Cry day and night to him, with grief for sin, 
 And he'll descend with healing in his wing. 
 When you his pardon and your peace obtain, 
 Oh then beware you do not stray again. 
 
 10^.— The Jews, mariners and Sabbath scholars 
 iay much on my heart. In the strength of my Re- 
 deemer, I am enabled to bear them dailv to a throne 
 of grace, and with much solicitude make petition to 
 our gracious God for their eternal welfare. Go on, 
 O my soul ! to pray for their salvation, and the spread 
 of the Gospel among the heathen. O Christians ■ ye 
 advocates for the cause of Christ, be constantly en- 
 gaged at God's footstool for the return of Israel ; in 
 every prayer remember the Lord's chosen people 
 the poor sailors, the Hindoos, and the Sunday schools! 
 May the Lord revive his work in our own souls, and 
 quicken us by his spirit, that through his blessing we 
 may stir up others to unite in the efforts that are mak- 
 ing for the promulgation of the Gospel. Oh for more 
 zeal for the increase of the Redeemer's kingdom. 
 
 19M.— Feel very happy to-day— have much plea- 
 sure in contemplating the hand of God in the beauti- 
 
208 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 fill scenery around me — but the enemy tries to break 
 in upon my peace. Often, after great enjoyment in 
 meditation and prayer, he suggests that my feelings 
 are all a delusion ; that they are the effects of disease, 
 and flights of imagination. This causes my soul mo- 
 mentary pain, but I look to God, he graciously re- 
 moves my fears, and makes my hopes more strong. 
 Blessed hope ! that so kindly defends me from infernal 
 •arrows ! Away, thou foul deceiver! thou shalt not 
 cheat me of my peace. " I know in whom I have be- 
 lieved," and in whom I trust. Christ has redeemed 
 me, and thou shalt not take my ransomed spirit cap- 
 tive—flee from me, for God is near to save me from 
 thy malice. 
 
 23d. — Alas ! what cruel artifice of hell is this to 
 dart such sinful suggestions into my mind ! Does 
 Satan and my own evil heart combine against my 
 ^oul r Alas ! yes. Fain would they blast my fairest 
 liopes of heaven, and impede my progress to my Fa- 
 thers mansion. Satan, or some fiend of hell, watches 
 every opportunity to wound my soul, when my faith 
 soars highest. But that precious gift of God, faith, 
 breaks out in strong opposition to the fabrications of 
 hell, and the attacks of unbelief. Blessed be my dear 
 Redeemer for enabling me to resist the old serpent 
 who was a liar from the beginning. Avaunt, ye in- 
 fernal enemies of God and man ! Your stygian plots 
 to rob God of his glory, and me of my eternal joy, 
 are vain and fruitless. Neither earth nor hellish 
 power can separate me from the love of God ; I have 
 his word for this truth, and his word cannot fail. All 
 else may fail, but that never, never can. " I know 
 that my Redeemer liveth," and all my hope of salva- 
 tion is in him ; dependence on any other foundation 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 209 
 
 would be dangerous ; Jesus is all my hope, and all 
 my life. I am assured, that through grace I shall, in 
 the end, come oft' more than conqueror, and ascend 
 to drink of those streams that make glad the celestial 
 city. Yes, I shall mount upwards, and see my glo- 
 rious Saviour face to face ; I shall be with him in 
 glory when my work is done below, and there thy 
 rage can never reach me, thou enemy of my peace ! 
 Therefore, attempt no more to overcome a love that* 
 is stronger than death. 
 
 August 9th. — The weather has moderated — let gra- 
 titude for the blessing ascend to God — he is with me, 
 and blessed be his name. 1 trust my desires to be 
 useful, increase every day — my constant cry is, " Lord 
 make me useful in the cause of Zion, point out ths 
 work fipr me to do, and give me grace and strength 
 to accomplish it. I am frail and weak, yet well I 
 know that thou art able to bring strength out of weak- 
 ness, and make small things accomplish wonders. I 
 have great liberty in prayer, and, if I do not deceive 
 myself, my chief desire is to know more of the depra- 
 vity of my heart, and to have more enlarged views of 
 his own glorious character. Blessed be the Lord ! 
 my prayers are answered. I believe I now can say 
 that my affections are undivided; the Lord reigns 
 sole possessor of my heart. Once, alas ! the crea- 
 ture usurped the place of God ; but now, through 
 grace, the Lord Jehovah claims his right again, and 
 rules and reigns as sovereign. Oh ! may I never more 
 admit an idol there ! O thou great Shepherd, and 
 Bishop of souls ! never, oh ! never suffer thy worth- 
 less worm to worship any thing but thyself; never 
 suffer any human power to draw my soul from thee. 
 
 14th. — How good is my God to me, my cup run- 
 
 S 2 . 
 
210 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 neth over. "I will praise thee, O Lord my God! 
 with all my heart, and I will glorify thy name for 
 evermore," for inexpressibly great are thy mercies to 
 me. Thy presence is with me, and thy grace enables 
 me to resort to thy throne ; and there plead with thee, 
 and wait thy sacred will. 
 
 Oh ! it is good to wait before Jehovah's feet, 
 And there our mercies and our wants repeat ; 
 Confess his bounties and his praises spread, 
 And weep the sins for which his body bled : 
 There wait his sov'reign pleasure, and be still 
 Beneath his frowns and his most holy will. 
 May grace constrain my tardy feet to come 
 And worship daily at his royal throne* 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND ON THE EVE OF MARRIAGE 
 
 New- York. 
 
 Permit me, my dear Emily, as you are so soon to 
 enter into the honourable state of matrimony, to ad- 
 dress you on the important occasion. You can be no 
 stranger, my beloved girl, to my solicitude for your 
 welfare; therefore I consider an apology needless for 
 the liberty I am taking. That you will receive it as 
 it is meant I have not the least doubt, as well as that 
 you will oblige me by endeavouring to follow my 
 poor advice, as far as you think it worthy of your 
 acceptance. 
 
 Believe me, when I assure you it affords me great 
 pleasure to know that, if providence permits, you are 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 211 
 
 soon to give your hand to the man your heart cordi- 
 ally approves. ********* j s the anticipated day, I 
 understand, that you are to embrace Frederick as your 
 husband and protector for life. That you, my dear, 
 may find in him every thing your heart now fondly 
 hopes, and your sanguine expectations be fully realiz- 
 ed, is my warmest wish. I hope he will prove a kind 
 and tender partner; capable of participating in all 
 your feelings, joys, and sorrows, amidst the varying 
 scenes of this changing life. And may you be unto 
 him all that he now hopes and thinks to find you. I 
 am well acquainted with your affection, and am satis- 
 fied as to the sincerity and nature of it; and if I do 
 not most grossly mistake Frederick, I think there is a 
 reciprocal attachment existing between you. You 
 both mutually love and accord in sentiment, (but 
 with a few exceptions) and both, I flatter myself, pos- 
 sess sufficient good sense and prudence to be accom- 
 modating in the few points in which you disagree, by 
 gently and mildly trying to convince, or giving up 
 to each other. It is the duty of each to strive with 
 affection to please and conciliate, and avoid giving or 
 taking offence and unnecessary provocation. From 
 what I know and have seen of your intended, I must 
 confess that I think him to be a superior young man. 
 That he has his failings there is no question ; for who 
 is without ? And he may perhaps have more than 
 you have already discovered ; but they maybe of such 
 a nature as not to interrupt your happiness in married 
 life, if you, my dear, are judicious and careful to 
 study his interest, secure his affection, and strive in 
 every respect to enhance his felicity.. When you tell 
 your husband his faults, do it when alone, and with 
 great tenderness and candour : never reprove him be- 
 
212 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 fore any one, nor be guilty of reproaching him, and 
 throwing out severe hints and cutting remarks, as we 
 liave known some wives to do, to the destroying 
 of their own peace, and the husband's happiness. 
 But I should hope there was no danger of your being 
 so imprudent and unfeeling; it is not in your dispo- 
 sition. However, it is well for all of us to watch our 
 tempers, and guard against falling into such perni- 
 cious errors, for we all are frail beings and liable to 
 err. But my dear young friend, do not think I mean 
 to be severe on our sex alone ; no, for I think it as 
 much the husband's duty to observe and attend strict- 
 ly to these essentials to wedded happiness as it is the 
 wife's. And again, I would repeat that this duty is 
 as much incumbent on my good friend Frederick, as 
 yourself; and hope that he will most conscientiously 
 pursue such a course of conduct, when married ; and 
 both by so doing will sweetly experience the delight- 
 ful benefits arising from it. The faults which my 
 more faulty mind has discerned in your intended hus- 
 band, are those that are blended with so much amia- 
 bleness that they can scarcely be called failings : yet, 
 my dear, unless you are exceedingly prudent, they 
 are of a nature to produce serious consequences : 
 small matters sometimes, if carried too far, terminate 
 very unpleasantly. 
 
 Frederick, I think, possesses a generous and noble 
 mind; but should I be deceived in him, I think I will 
 never again pretend to judge of any one's good pro- 
 perties, till I have a longer experience of their cha- 
 racter. 
 
 As the station of a wife, my dear, is a very import- 
 ant one, and as it will be more peculiarly so with 
 you, when you assume that character, than many, as 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 213 
 
 you will be placed at the head of your husband's fa- 
 mily, and may expect to meet with many things that 
 may not be perhaps altogether consonant with your 
 own views and feelings, and most likely you will find 
 some tempers out of so many not so pleasant as may 
 be desirable, therefore it will be necessary that you 
 should possess the wisdom of a serpent, and the mild- 
 ness of a dove. You must prepare your mind to 
 meet with little difficulties after marriage; for though 
 a state of matrimony has many pleasures, it also has 
 its pains ; there is no sweet in this life without its bit- 
 ter. You will find it an arduous task to please all, 
 situated as you will be — that, I would say, was hard- 
 ly possible. Great patience and forbearance will be 
 requisite — but even with these requisitions, I well 
 know with some dispositions it would not be practica- 
 ble to keep all things straight, and live in perfect 
 unison. 
 
 I must do you the justice to say, that there are very 
 few, and particularly at your age, who possess such 
 mature judgment, and are blest with such quick pene- 
 tration and good discernment : few even of riper years 
 have such correct views generally, and I well know, 
 my dear Emily, you have a disposition to put in prac- 
 tice what you know in theory; therefore, I feebcon- 
 fident that you will do every thing that is just and 
 right to promote your husband's interest and happi- 
 ness, and do what duty requires towards his family. 
 I feel persuaded that if any discordance arises the 
 fault will not lie at your door. You must indeed 
 greatly alter to be the faulty person. 
 
 I confess that I feel considerable anxiety respecting 
 the situation in which you will in a little time be 
 placed, for I am aware of its being a very critical 
 
214 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 one, especially for a young person, and of which 
 you yourself are not insensible. Nothing, I am per- 
 suaded, would induce you to permit yourself to un- 
 dertake so difficult and important a station, but the 
 ardent attachment you have for Frederick. 
 
 I pray and hope that God, my dear, will strengthen 
 and enable you to acquit yourself in a laudable man- 
 ner, and make you an honour to your husband, and 
 an ornament to society. Let me entreat you, my 
 young friend, to take the word of God for your guide 
 and rule; and if you adopt this plan you cannot fail of 
 doing right. Do your duty, let others conduct as 
 they will; and then you will not have to upbraid 
 yourself, nor incur your husband's displeasure. Oh ! 
 may you 5 my dear, clear Emily, be enabled to emulate 
 the bright example of the glorious Redeemer in all 
 your deportment ; and that he may condescend to be 
 a lamp to your feet, and a light to your path, and you 
 wise enough to make him your friend and counsellor 
 under every circumstance, is my fervent prayer. 
 
 I long 10 hear of you and Frederick making the 
 praiseworthy resolution of young Joshua, in the in- 
 cipient of your morning, "as for me and my house 
 we will serve the Lord." Most fervently, my dear 
 Emily and Frederick, do I hope that you both, in the 
 strength of God, will come to this wise and blessed 
 determination, when you first enter the connubial state, 
 and rest assured you will be blessed through life — 
 heaven will prosper the works of your hands, and of 
 the fruits of your labours you shall eat in peace. God 
 will sweeten your prosperity, which otherwise, with- 
 out the fear of the Lord, would leave an aching 
 void behind. Religion sweetens all our pleasures 
 and mollifies our cares, and is a blessed prop in the 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 213 
 
 day of adversity ; and believe me, Emily, it adds an 
 additional zest to all our recreations and enjoyments 
 here. The pleasures of religion are not like the en- 
 chanting things of sense which flatter and allure for a 
 while, and prove as evanescent as the dew, hv* they 
 are solid and substantial ; durable as eternity itself, 
 they commence below and are perfected above. 
 
 Give me leave, my dear girl, to impress upon your 
 mind how much you have been enlightened in divine 
 things, and how sensibly yen have experienced and 
 marked the clemencies of God under many circum- 
 stances — do not then, I beseech you, forget his mercies, 
 and the hand that has been upon you for good ; in par- 
 ticular instances remember his kinduess, and in return 
 give him your heart : recollect, if you forget God you 
 will have reason to fear that he will forget you. 
 
 It is my solemn charge to you and Frederick, that 
 you will continue to love each other most affectionately, 
 and strive to please one another in all things consistent 
 with the commands of God, as man and wife. But 
 oh, beware that you do not make idols of each other, 
 and so set up the creature in the room of the Creator. 
 There is much danger, I know from experience, of 
 making those we love in the flesh idols, and casting 
 out the Almighty, or, as Dr. Watts observes, " leav- 
 ing but half for God." One thing I would observe 
 before I conclude, which is, to recommend that you 
 and Frederick would pay strict attention to the Lord's 
 day. Too many shamefully violate the Sabbath by 
 visiting, riding and entertaining company, and by so 
 doing bring the just judgments of heaven on their 
 households. Ah ! and often, I believe, through the 
 continuation of this horrid practice draw down a curse 
 upon them through life, The Israelite who for a light 
 
216 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 misdemeanor, comparatively speaking, was stoned to 
 death for his offence, ought to be held as an example, 
 and a serious warning to us to keep holy that sacred 
 day. It is to be much lamented, that many professors, 
 are too neglectful of their duty on the Sabbath. 
 Alas! 1 have often cause to reproach myself for not 
 more strictly devoting it to God. 
 
 The Sabbath was given to be set apart for the wor- 
 ship of God, and for a rest for man and beast : but it 
 is most awfully abused. Sabbath-breaking was con- 
 sidered a most heinous crime in days of old, and it is 
 no less so now in the eye of the divine lawgiver. Many, 
 I know, seem to think it a venial offence, but they will 
 find themselves dreadfully mistaken in that great day, 
 when the Supreme Judge shall call them to an account 
 for the deeds done in the body ; take heed then, my 
 dearest Emily, that you do not dishonour the Lord's 
 day. If you woi- i be happy here and hereafter, and 
 prosper in this world, then walk in the fear of the 
 Lord and obey his precepts. What I say to one, I 
 say to both, for I have the interest of each at heart. 
 I have too exalted an opinion of my friend Frederick, 
 to suppose that he will take any offence at any little 
 advice I have hinted to him, although it comes from 
 the pen of one who frankly acknowledges her infe- 
 riority. 
 
 I will now conclude in the words of an author that 
 I have some where seen, and hope that both of you will 
 bear them ever in memory — when you are married — 
 
 " Think not the object gain'd, that all is done, 
 The prize of happiness must still be won." 
 
JOY Ai\D GRIEF. 217 
 
 Let this, my dearest Emily, be your constant study ; 
 and may you and your Frederick do honour to the sta- 
 ■ tion you are about to take in life, and be a pattern to 
 others. Throw a veil of charity over all my imper- 
 fections and inaccuracies of writing-, and pardon my 
 being so prolix. Wishing you every blessing and 
 felicity in the marriage state the Lord shall think fit 
 to bestow, I am, my dear young friend, your truly 
 devoted and attached 
 
 Eliza. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MY FATHER. 
 
 March, 1821. 
 
 How uncertain is life, and how fleeting is time, 
 There is none who can say that to-morrow is mine; 
 Our life's but a shadow, a span, or : flower 
 That blooms for a day, and decays in an hour. 
 
 Some die at threescore, some at life's early dawn, 
 To-day we are here, and to-morrow we're gone; 
 Our breath and our being are in the Lord's hand 
 We live, move and die at his sovereign command! 
 
 A few weeks ago my dear father was here, 
 In full rosy health, and in strength did appear ; 
 Alas ! how soon after the springs of life failed ■ 
 How fragile the clay in which life is empaled. 
 
 The engine of nature by one severe stroke 
 Of cruel disease felt a thousand strings broke; 
 The noble-wrought building then threatened to fall 
 In spite of all efforts to prop up its wall. 
 
218 A MEDLEY OP 
 
 While skilful hands laboured, the temple dissolved, 
 Then plainly to me the great matter was solved ; 
 There's a fixed time to die, from divine truth I know, 
 And the period arrived, when my parent should go. 
 
 And alas ! he is gone, the pilgrim is fled! 
 His body conveyed to the vaults of the dead ; 
 Where mortality slumbers and his beloved clay 
 Must become food for worms and mould'ring decay. 
 
 Ah ! yes, his cold image now sleeps with the dead, 
 But whither, oh ! where has his dear spirit fled? 
 Gone to reside in the invisible globe 
 Never more to return to this earthly orb. 
 
 Alas ! it is so and my soul must submit, 
 But I feel that my heart was so close to his knit, 
 Did grace not prevent this fond breast would repine, 
 That death should have led him so quick to his shrine. 
 
 Insatiate monster so greedy of prey, [away ; 
 
 Didst seize him with haste and soon snatched him 
 I would only have asked but a few hours more, 
 To beg of the Saviour his speech to restore. 
 
 Thou unfeeling tyrant ! his heart to invade 
 Just, just as his senses a kind visit paid: 
 Cruel invader, ever eager of gain, 
 Thou couldst not be satisfied till he was slain. 
 
 But heaven be praised, that his all-potent povv'r 
 Can work the great work in a last dying hour ; 
 And I've reason to hope, oh ! rapturous thought ! 
 While dying the Saviour his precious soul sought. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 219 
 
 Yes, yes barb'rous traitor, the heavenly blood, 
 I trust, met the pilgrim in Jordan's dark flood, 
 There saved him from sinking, and safe washed him 
 
 o'er, 
 And landed him kindly on Canaan's bright shore. 
 
 Oh! wond'rous mercy, miraculous power! 
 That appeared for my sire in such a dread hour; 
 Tho' perfect assurance I did not obtain, 
 I cannot but hope that my hopes are not vain. 
 
 Oh ! may my fond hopes be realized on high, 
 When my spirit shall wing its glad flight to the sky, 
 And my soul shall approach to embrace my loved 
 
 Lord, 
 May I greet my dear father on the breast of my God. 
 
 Farewell, dearest parent ! a short while adieu ! 
 Then shall this poor fabric be interr'd with you ; 
 One dust shall receive us, one tomb be our bed, 
 Till earth shall deliver to Jesus its dead. 
 
 While our temples together in one grave shall rest, 
 May our spirits repose on Immanuel's pure breast ; 
 May we meet, my lov'd father, with all our dear kin, 
 After death, round the throne of our glorious great 
 King. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 Oh ! M r, take warning, take warning in time, 
 
 Ere health shall decay and life shall decline ; 
 May the late dispensation of Heaven be blest, 
 And lead you to Jesus, the sinner's safe rest 
 
im A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Oh brother ! dear brother, weep not for the dead I 
 We also must go to the same dreary bed ; 
 If you weep, let it be for transgression, and fly 
 To Christ and secure a blest seat in the sky. 
 
 Arise, you and Ann, and to Calvary go, 
 Where the blood of the Lamb for sinners did flow ; 
 Let not unbelief keep your souls from the Cross, 
 Take courage and go, and be purg'd from your dross. 
 
 p**** n**** ? your husbands arid offspring, there fly, 
 And view the stain'd ground where the great God did 
 
 die ; 
 Behold it and tremble ! such as you and vile me 
 Caus'd that blood there to blush on the earth and the 
 
 tree. 
 
 Behold it and weep for the state you are in, 
 And supplicate heaven to baptize you from sin ; 
 Though ycur sins be as scarlet, if you but believe, 
 Christ will wash them all white and eternal life give. 
 
 £*****#* Oh! C*******, moderate grief; 
 Look to the Saviour for support and relief; 
 Remember, my love, it is God, and be still, 
 Beneath this dark providence bend to his will. 
 
 O praise him midst darkness, and leave the event 
 To him, who in time will disclose what he meant, 
 By defeating our hopes and not answering pray'r, 
 In the way that we wish'd it while father was here. 
 
 God is good, and is just, and his wisdom can't err, 
 Be resign'd, and his steps to your own ways prefer : 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. *■ 221 
 
 And" take heed to your course, you are bless'd with 
 
 great light, 
 Oh ! abuse not the mercy — keep Jesus in sight. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON THE SAME. 
 
 March, 1821. 
 
 And has my father really gone 
 The way all flesh must go f 
 
 Ah, yes ! these eyes beheld him close 
 This mortal scene of wo. 
 
 They watch'd his dying looks with care, 
 And saw him smile in death, 
 
 Oft heavenward raise imploring eyes. 
 While he resign'd his breath. 
 
 I heard his last expiring breath 
 Breathe gently out— Oh God ! 
 
 Then calmly fell asleep in death, 
 I hope too in the Lord. 
 
 His spirit wing'd its flight away, 
 
 For death the fabric shook ; 
 But ere we thought the monster near, 
 
 The brittle thread he broke. 
 
 Iiese fingers clos'd his deathly eyes, 
 I kiss'd his icy cheek ; 
 e's gone! I cried, then press'd his lips. 
 And turn'd aside to weep. 
 
222 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Oft to his shrine my feet did stray. 
 
 To contemplate his death, 
 And gaze upon his much lov'd clay* 
 
 Ere it return'd to earth. 
 
 But ah ! the trying moment came, 
 When I was forc'd to part 
 
 With a dear parent's lovely form. 
 And saw the corpse depart. 
 
 My silent ejulations rose 
 When he was borne away ; 
 
 But O my Saviour wip'd the tears 
 My sad heart did bewray. 
 
 Death's iron hand has now dissolv'd 
 
 My closest tie below ; 
 Tis fled — and can no more return, 
 
 But I to him must go. 
 
 Then fare thee well, my dearest sire I 
 Since thou wert forc'd to flee ; 
 
 My lamp will also soon expire, 
 And then I'll come to thee. 
 
 Farewell ! dear parent, oh, farewell" f 
 Earth holds thee from mine eyes ;. 
 
 Soft be thy slumbers in the tomb 
 Till Christ shall bid thee rise. 
 
 When the last trump the angel sounds*, 
 Oh may our kindred dust 
 
 Then reunite, to rise and reign 
 With God the great and just 
 
JOY AND GRIEF t& 
 
 Pause. 
 
 My honour'd father, could these feet 
 
 Convey me to thy bed, 
 Oft would I rove the verdant spot 
 
 And converse with the dead. 
 
 I'd haunt thy grave, and raise the shrine 
 That holds thy mouldering clay, 
 
 Let fall a tear, and kiss thy dust ; 
 This mournful tribute pay. 
 
 But this, alas ! my health forbids, 
 
 Yet will I often flee 
 To sweet retirement's holy shades, 
 
 And think of God and thee. 
 
 I'll think of days that's past and gone, 
 That £ have spent with thee ; 
 
 Still hold thee dear, and humbly hope 
 Thou art from sorrows {ree. 
 
 O'er thy lov'd mem'ry shed a tear, 
 
 And kiss the stolen lock, 
 Which from thy dear and sacred head, 
 
 When life had fled, I took. 
 
 And when the chord of life shall snap 
 And free me from this clod ; 
 
 Oh may I mount and meet thy soul 
 In the kind arms of God. 
 
>24 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Uncertainty, my honour'd sire, 
 
 Of thy immortal state, 
 Causes these tears, sometimes a groan 
 
 This bosom to escape. 
 
 Forgive these tears, my God forgive, 
 
 Nor let me sinful weep ; 
 From murmuring at thy providence 
 
 This bleeding bosom keep. 
 
 David for Absalom did mourn, 
 
 Israel for Joseph griev'd ; 
 While led to think that he was slain, 
 
 When by his sons deceiy'd. 
 
 Jesus let fall a briny drop 
 When Laz'rus sunk to sleep, 
 
 Mingled his tears with mournful friends 
 Who round his tomb did weep. 
 
 Did Jesus mingle tears with men ? 
 
 The Son of God to weep ! 
 Surprising scene ! well may my heart 
 
 Some sorrows feel so deep. 
 
 Dear Jesus will not chide my tears, 
 
 But kindly sympathize ; 
 He's touch'd with my infirmities, 
 
 And sovereign aid applies. 
 
 What kind support his goodness gives, 
 
 To bear my spirit up ; 
 When troubles rise and billows roll, 
 
 He is alone my prop. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 225 
 
 Lord, I vvill bless and praise thy name, 
 
 Thy clemency is great ; 
 'Midst pains and woes and conflicts sharp, 
 
 Grace doth new hopes create. 
 
 I bow and kiss thy gentle rod, 
 
 And bless thy chast'ning hand, 
 Which draws me closer to my God, 
 
 And makes me firmer stand. 
 
 Make me submissive to thy will, 
 
 Though painful it may be; 
 Beneath affliction make me still, 
 
 And more devout to thee. 
 
 O may I ne'er forget to tell 
 
 The wonders of thy grace ; 
 For I each rising day behold 
 
 New beauties in thy face. 
 
 Long as I live thy praise I'll speak, 
 
 And spread thy love abroad ; 
 And while my strength endures, my pen 
 
 Thy goodness shall record. 
 
 A REFLECTION ON THE MERCY OF GOD IN RESTOR- 
 ING TO ME THE LOST JOYS OF SALVATION. 
 
 March 28th, 1821. 
 
 God in the late distressing case, 
 Bestowed his all supporting grace; 
 In him a faithful friend I found, 
 Whose hand did bind my bleeding wound. 
 
226 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Heaven the painful stroke did give, 
 To make my dying spirit live, 
 To draw me nearer to his throne. 
 And honour more his righteous son. 
 
 The Lord was gen'rous, good and kind, 
 Who did so well prepare my mind 
 To meet the sad tremendous blow, 
 That broke the nearest tie below. 
 
 Some months before, alas! if heaven 
 The impending awful stroke had given. 
 The sad state then my mind was in, 
 It must have sunk beneath the sting. 
 
 But oh ! the vast design of God ! 
 First to rebuke with gentle rod, 
 Then kindly sanctify each blow, 
 Which caus'd my melting tears to flow. 
 
 My feeble hopes he did expand, 
 And caused my faith more firm to stand ; 
 Thus sweetly by his sovereign power 
 Prepared me for the evil hour. 
 
 That hour arrived — the trying night, 
 When death conveyed away from sight 
 The dearest kindred of my heart ! 
 But heaven did mollify the smart. 
 
 My God ! this humble breast inspire 
 With holy zeal, and sacred fire; 
 . Assist my grateful voice to raise 
 New songs of love and hymns of praise. 
 
 Jt, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 2 2 s 
 
 Amazing grace ! O love divine ! 
 That turned these roving feet of mine, 
 When rambling in the slippery road, 
 And brought me back to heaven and God. 
 
 My gracious Father and my Friend ! 
 Before thy throne I humbly bend ; 
 And bless the grace, and kiss the hand, 
 That did revive the dying brand. 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 
 A diurnal excursion, 1821. 
 
 Awake, my drowsy powers ! Aurora gives notice 
 of her cheering approach. Hail rosy light ! but first 
 unto him who kindly preserved me through the shades 
 of night let a grateful prayer ascend. 
 
 Father of mercies, through the night, 
 
 Thou hast sustain'd my frame, 
 Brought me to see the morning light, 
 
 And I adore thy name. 
 
 Now may thy 1 love inspire my tongue 
 
 With holf hymns of praise, 
 And Jesus be the darling theme, 
 
 To swell the sacred lays. 
 
 My grateful breathings through the day 
 
 Incessantly shall rise, 
 While I recount the rich display 
 
 Of bounties from the skies. 
 
22g A MEDLEY OF 
 
 And while I take my morning walk 
 
 On nature's charms to gaze, 
 Oh may my heart of Jesus talk, 
 
 And ponder all his ways. 
 
 Now let me throw open the window, and admit the 
 breeze; how sweet and refreshing — behold the orient- 
 al glories ! what a brightness suffuses the firmament. 
 
 Glorious God ! Author of light ! 
 God of the dawn ! with what delight 
 Thy beauties break upon my eyes ! 
 These are thy works ! how grand they rise. 
 
 While the admiring sight 1 view, 
 My thoughts a loftier scene pursue ; 
 They soar to brighter worlds above, 
 Where God himself sits rob'd in love. 
 
 And there my thoughts for ever dwell, 
 This thought all other thoughts expel ; 
 Let heav'n alone my breast inspire, 
 That be my first and last desire. 
 
 Lord while I stroll abroad to day, 
 Lead out my soul to praise and pray; 
 And while I view thy works wittfjoy, 
 Oh ! let no foe my peace annoy. 
 
 The surrounding scenery invites me to go forth and 
 inhale the salubrious air ; the morning is uncommon- 
 ly lovely, and the beauties before me are sufficient to 
 arouse all the powers of my mind, attract my eye, and 
 animate my heart— every thing demands my attention. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 22V 
 
 But, where is my Alice ? is she slumbering, or has 
 she already walked out to enjoy the charms of this 
 fair morn. Yonder I see her — J believe she discerns 
 me, and quickens her pace. Good morning, my 
 friend — I rejoice to meet you. I was wishing for you 
 to accompany me to the banks of the Hudson—the 
 grandeur and sublimity of its scenery are far more 
 captivating to the reflecting mind than the vain splen- 
 dour of the city, and the glare of the drawing room— 
 and, I trust, preferred by you as well as myself. Come 
 then, and let us improve our minds, as well as recreate 
 our bodies, by spiritualizing the beauties of creation. 
 Oh, my friend, how many thousands are at this mo- 
 ment indulging in sleep ! how shamefully do we abuse 
 our privileges, how much precious time we waste, and 
 how much we lose by not rising early. Lo ! what 
 glories the morning produces. See, my friend, how 
 the lawn is sprinkled with the dew drops of the night. 
 Observe those bright diamonds of the morning, how 
 they shine on the verdure from the reflection of the 
 approaching sun beams. Like as the sun spreads his 
 refulgence o'er the firmament and reflects its beams 
 on this lower orb, so our heavenly Father shines in 
 full brightness on the face of his anointed Son, in 
 whom he is well pleased ; and who, though he is equal 
 with the Father, is still in his mediatorial office, and 
 ever lives above to make intercession for the lost fa- 
 mily of Adam, and he will reign on his Father's 
 throne " until he has put all enemies under his feet." 
 Oh ! Alice, what an unspeakable blessing to have so 
 glorious an advocate above as Jesus, the son of the 
 omnipotent God ! and as the Father shines upon the 
 son, so methinks the great sun of righteousness dif- 
 fuses his heavenly beams o'er the hearts of his redeem- 
 
 
 
230 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 ed, warms, animates, and keeps them alive, amidst ten 
 thousand ills. His beams are grace, mighty, and 
 powerful ! glorious amidst all the shades of darkness ! 
 how infinitely does the grace of God excel. 
 
 His vital rays do pierce the darkest soul ; 
 He bids the light to shine, the light obeys— 
 Out of thick darkness light and life appear. 
 Nor can we tell from whence or how it comes. 
 "lis like the wind — the sound of which we hear 
 But still we know not whence it doth proceed, 
 
 Nor whither does it go. — 
 
 So souls that are born again, they alone 
 Perceive this glorious light spring up within, 
 The Spirit's labour and the wond'rous work 
 Of sovereign grace ; they, and only they 
 Can know, and taste, and feel redeeming love. 
 Christ in their souls, grace living in their hearts ! 
 Oh what a mystery is godliness to man ! 
 God's ways unsearchable, past finding out ! 
 
 But come my friend, let us resort to yonder beauti- 
 ful eminence, whose height commands a delightful 
 and extensive prospect ; thither let us go and view the 
 rising scene, and contemplate the beauties of Phoebus, 
 who is now emerging from the orient waves, while 
 he permits us to behold his glories ; for in a little 
 time his light will be too dazzling for human eye to 
 bear. Charming spot! what a noble sight presents 
 itself from this lofty hill ! Hearken to the low mur- 
 murings of the gentle waves ; how they soothe the 
 listening ear ! The person of the Lord Jesus appears 
 to us, my friend, as at a great distance, but we know 
 he is an omnipresent Being : to the natural eye his 
 
JOY AND GRli 23! 
 
 glorious form is invisible, but to the eye of faith he is 
 seen ever near. More or less he is ever present to the 
 believer's heart, soothes his mind, calms his soul, dif- 
 fuses peace through his breast, conveys melody to his 
 ear, and dissipates his fear Seest thou, my sister, 
 yon shepherd leaning on his staff? With what dili- 
 gence lie watches his sheep, lest the greedy wolves 
 break in upon them, and devour the tender lambs — 
 yea, and the sheep also, if they can overpower them. 
 When any of them attempt to stray, observe with 
 what alacrity he pursues and brings them back ! But 
 oh, my soul! with how much greater vigilance does 
 God watch the household of Israel ! When dangers 
 are nigh, how swiftly does he fly to parry the destruc- 
 tive blows — or, if any of them wander, how quickly 
 does he search them out, and reclaim them from their 
 wanderings! Great Shepherd of the sheep ! if I am 
 under thy kind care, oh preserve my roving feet within 
 the bounds to which thou hast limited me. Say unto 
 me, " thus far shalt thou go and no farther." Heark- 
 en to the brutes, and to the feathered race! how 
 early they are in saluting their Maker, and hailing 
 the welcome dawn. How melodious are the notes of 
 the cheerful birds ! see how they swell their throats to 
 the praise of Him who made them ! 
 
 Oh bless his name, his power adore, 
 And sound his praise from shore to shore. 
 
 How their activity reproves my sluggishness ! Oh, 
 my soul ! learn a lesson from this little active tribe : 
 you see with what willingness they sing their great 
 Cr-vator's praise; how early they are in their devo- 
 tions: then be not so indolent; early arise to pray 
 
332 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 and praise ; thy Maker has a right to thy first thoughts 
 and to thy best services. Oh, my senseless soul, re- 
 member thou hast ten thousand times more cause for 
 gratitude than those innocent choristers. Thou art 
 deeply in debt to that Being who so wonderfully fa- 
 shioned the clay that holds thy immortal part. When 
 thou wert an enemy to him he laid down his precious 
 life for thy sake, and all who will come to him. 
 Wondrous deed ! And did the Lord of glory die for 
 me ? Yes, for thee, my soul, even for thee he bled ! 
 Our sins, my friend, and the sins of all believers were 
 the nails that fastened his hands and feet to the shame- 
 ful cross, and our unbelief was the spear that pierced 
 his side, and caused that blood to flow which cleanses 
 from all guilt. My blood almost freezes in my veins 
 when I consider how much the Son of God suffered 
 for me, and what poor returns I make to him for all 
 his mercies. How low my highest thoughts, how cold 
 my wannest love, how slow my steps to reach the 
 heavenly goal ! Awake, oh my soul ! stretch every 
 nerve, and raise perpetual songs of praise ! For wor- 
 thy is the Lamb that was slain ! But turn, my friend, 
 and behold the wonders of the heavens — see with what 
 brightness the eastern clouds appear ! Delightful view [ 
 
 Lord, with what rapture and surprise 
 Ethereal glories strike my eyes ; 
 Where'er 1 turn my head around, 
 I see thy wondrous works abound. 
 
 I see thy mighty hand abroad, 
 
 A blade of grass bespeaks a God ', 
 
 The fields, the trees, a plant, a flower, c , 
 
 Displays thy judgment and thy power., 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 233 
 
 If these thy works so brilliant shine, 
 How dazzling, splendid and divine 
 Must be thyself, thy courts on high, 
 Thy throne and mansions in the sky ! 
 
 Who is that coming forth with such dignity and 
 glory ? It is the sun ! He has just mounted Iris cha- 
 riot : how majestic he comes in his flaming car ! What 
 a bright emblem of one more noble and more exalted ! 
 Thy Maker himself, the great and glorious Jesus. Thy 
 face is dazzling ; but oh, how infinitely more dazzling 
 is the great Sun of Righteousness ! his glories are in- 
 sufferably bright — too brilliant to be viewed in this 
 state of mortality! Could we behold him in his me- 
 ridian splendour, while embodied in this clay taber- 
 nacle, instantaneous death would follow ; our feeble 
 sight would be too weak to bear his refulgence ; yet 
 his redeemed children shall behold him on his radiant 
 throne; shall see him face to face, and deck with ne- 
 ver-fading wreaths that illustrious head which their 
 sins once crowned with pungent thorns. When mor- 
 tality shall have put on immortality their powers shall 
 be strengthened and fitted for the transporting sig it. 
 They shall dwell in his presence, and for ever gaze 
 on his inconceivable lustre. His inexpressible brii. i<t- 
 ness, his unfathomable depth of never-fading g)o*y, 
 shall affect them in no other way, than to exciie gra- 
 titude, wonder, love and praise. 
 
 We see, my dear Alice, how that great luminary 
 has performed his revolutions round the earth nearly 
 six thousand years, and «jnU not dim in the least with 
 age; still unwearied in his work ; and continues to 
 roll round with the same vigour and beauty as from 
 the beginning; gilding this lower sphere, animating 
 
 U2 
 
2S4 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 all creation with his cheerful presence, displaying his 
 Maker's power, in all his primeval charms. Oh rap- 
 turous thought S to conceive the saints in glory no 
 more weary in the sweet employ of praising the Lamb,, 
 through the endless ages of eternity. But think, my 
 dear friend, even that great imperial King of the skies, 
 like all other created good, shall fade and be seen no 
 more. 
 
 Yes sun ! thou resplendent orb of day, even thou 
 with all thy glory, shah be turned into darkness, and 
 fade away; the moon, the stars, and the blue vaulted 
 heavens shall depart as a scroll, and be no more.* 
 But the Sun of Righteousness, the exalted Jesus, and 
 all the ransomed throng, shall endure for ever and 
 ever. We admire the sun with all his refulgent splen- 
 dour and beauty, but oh ! how far, far superior are 
 the charms and beauties of Jesus, that vast luminary 
 of paradise, "whom the heaven of heavens cannot 
 contain. " 
 
 Oh! my friend, what a day of wonders was that, 
 when the most high God caused the sun and moon 
 to stand still, while he appeared so mercifully for 
 Joshua, and fought for Israel : when the five kings of 
 the Amorites, leagued with the kings of Jerusalem 
 (Hebron, Jarmuth, Lachish, and Eglon) went up 
 with their hosts, and encamped before Gibeon, to 
 make war with the Israelites. A day so marvellous 
 was never known before nor since. Amazing inter- 
 position ! O mighty deed ! that God should hearken 
 to the voice of a man to do such miracles. Oh Is- 
 rael ! did not thy bosom glow with ardent emotions 
 of gratitude, and unutterable joy, when the great 
 
 ' Psalm cii. 20, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 235 
 
 King of kings laid low the strength of thine enemies, 
 and delivered them into thine hands, and caused his 
 goodness to pass as the dew of heaven, and there to 
 flourish ? Methinks thy heart must have swelled high 
 with astonishment and praise. And didst thou, oh 
 sun! stand still on favoured Gibeon? and thou, oh 
 moon suspend thy course in the valley of Ajalon, at 
 thy Creator's voice? Surprising scene ! Wondrous 
 power! Thou hadst need be subservient to the hea- 
 venly injunction, oh ! ye splendid orbs. Shout, oh 
 Gibeon ! Rejoice, oh Israel ! that the Lord is God, 
 and that all power and might are in his hands. But 
 these miraculous events of providence, my friend, are 
 not more marvellous, than that God should cause the 
 earth for so many centuries to stand uninjured by the 
 rough hand of time, and kept steadfastly balanced on 
 its axis, by the breath of his nostrils : no, not more 
 wonderful than that the heavenly bodies should per- 
 form so constantly and regularly their revolutions 
 rouud this globe. The course of nature might as 
 well stop, as that God should disdain to hear the 
 prayers of his people — for their sakes he subdues 
 kingdoms, and bears with all long suffering. Go on 
 thou victorious King of Zion, conquering and to 
 conquer, 
 
 Until Satan and his base empire fall, 
 And thou, illustrious God, be all in all. 
 
 i 
 Oh ! be encouraged all ye his people — sing aloud 
 ye seed of Abraham— shout, oh ! sons of Jacob, for 
 Joshua's God is with you, even in these cloudy days. 
 Trust in his gracious name, bless and praise him, for 
 he has accomplished wonderful things. Be encou- 
 
 '; 
 
236 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 raged, oh ! ye tried and tempted souls, for the great 
 captain of your salvation is with you, and is mighty 
 and valiant; he will fight all your battles, for he goeth 
 before you with a strong and stretched out arm, and 
 will subdue the wrath of kings, powers, and princi- 
 palities for your sake ; and by you he will overthrow 
 the empire of Satan, and establish his kingdom for 
 ever. But ah ! how transient is time. Behold the 
 sun has already reached his zenith ; his scorching 
 beams warn us to return, or retire to some shady ar- 
 bour, where we shall not be exposed to his powerful 
 rays. Let us descend and still gaze with admiration at 
 the exquisitely fair scenes of nature, by the side of 
 yon smiling valley — there is an extensive nursery si- 
 tuated on elevated ground, and commauds a delecta- 
 ble prospect. Let us hasten and perambulate through 
 its balmy shades ; and shelter cur heads under its 
 peaceful bower. You must, my dear friend, spare 
 another hour from your domestic concerns, and 
 follow my roving feet. I cannot part with you yet — 
 my heart is still full, and I desire to pour its contents 
 into your affectionate bosom ; much of the power and 
 wisdom of the Creator is seen in this garden, and me- 
 thinks it invites us to admire its beauties. But ah! 
 see there is some one strolling its walks, and perhaps 
 my designs are frustrated. It is a female! her steps 
 are tardy, and her manner pensive ! Can it be the 
 owner? will she I wonder forbid our approach to 
 gratify our inclinations ? Let us venture to salute 
 her. Hail solitary friend ! why apparently so sad, 
 with such gayety before thee. The smiling groves 
 and cheerful lark, bid thee to be happy, and to join 
 Flora's rosy train, in singing the praise of nature's 
 God. Oh! it is our dear . Why so pensive 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 237 
 
 and thoughtful, my sister ? how altered is your ap- 
 pearance ! that wan cheek and sunken eye tell me all 
 is not right within. Oh ! say, why this change, why 
 doth such sorrow cloud thy brow? What new cala- 
 mity has befallen you since our last meeting, or do 
 your thoughts revert to some past painful scene ? 
 That look, my sister, conveys the secret of your wo. 
 But come, be not inconsolable; time will, I trust, re- 
 store all things to their proper order, and you, 1 hope, 
 see happier days. There is only one thing that will 
 ensure true happiness and peace of mind— and that 
 is, the love of God. Believe me that the possession 
 of this blessing will yield you abundant consolation 
 in the hour of sorrow. Troubles do not spring out 
 of the ground, they are sent by the God who made 
 us; and he only can bind and heal the bleeding 
 wounds. 
 
 The children of Israel long provoked the patience 
 of the Lord ; he led them through deep waters, and 
 when he afflicted them they repented and returned 
 unto their God. In like manner have you acted. 
 But let us beware that we do not by our obduracy 
 grieve the Holy Spirit, and cause him to withdraw his 
 cheering presence. But enough of this now ; ano- 
 ther time we will enter more fully on the subject ; the 
 lovely scenery around, for the present claims our at- 
 tention. The proprietor of this garden has displayed 
 uncommon taste in its arrangement ; he must have 
 taken great pains to collect so great a variety of beau- 
 tiful flowers, the beauties of which are heightened by 
 these fountains and marine productions that are inter- 
 spersed among them. Surely the owner has endea- 
 voured to make it an earthly paradise. Its curved 
 
238 A MEDLEY OP 
 
 walks and arched gates 5 its silver streams and spark- 
 ling fountains, may be supposed to intimate an inten- 
 tion to make it resemble the garden of the Lord. 
 But beautifully as this is laid out, how imperfectly 
 does human ingenuity copy the works of God. Mark, 
 my friends, his hand in the sumptuously robed trees ! 
 Who but God could have called creation out of chaos ? 
 Every leaf is a witness against infidel principles. Man 
 may toil, sow, and reap, but without God, there can 
 be neither growth, bud, nor blossom. Behold on 
 this spot of ground the variety of trees, all in full 
 bloom, with colours as various, and as rich as the 
 lovely rainbow. What a grand display of Almighty 
 goodness, and infinite wisdom ! Look how the young 
 and tender fruit crowns the shrub ; it is green, but 
 when its parent sun shall have warmed, and the dews 
 nourished it, it will be fit for the use of man. How 
 kind is our Creator in studying our comfort and our 
 enjoyment. 
 
 How much is our taste gratified with the luxuries 
 of earth, and how amply does the God of nature pro- 
 vide for his rebellious creatures ! Is it not surprising 
 that we are not more sensible of the unmerited good- 
 ness of our Maker ? 
 
 How richly are the walks adorned with the gayly 
 dressed flowers ! Here are ten thousand variegated 
 hues — their gayety seems to inspire me with new vi- 
 gour. Do not you feel animated ? See the blushing 
 moss-rose, feel its soft velvet texture, and view its mo- 
 dest aspect ! What a beautiful emblem of the fail- 
 Rose of Sharon, that lovely Paraxon of heaven, in 
 whom every celestial grace is found ! Look at these 
 curious young plants just sprouting up — what care 
 
JOY AiND GRIEF. 239 
 
 they need ! Were they not warmed by the rays of the 
 sun, and frequently watered, they would presently 
 wither and die. How delightful the fragrance which 
 they emit — the air is perfumed with its odour. In the 
 formation of all things, the divine Being has not only 
 provided for our necessities, but has also granted us 
 many indulgences, which please the eye, the taste, 
 and smell. But what poor returns of love and gra- 
 titude do we make to our gracious Benefactor f Let 
 us enter this shady arbour, and while sheltered 
 from the scorching beams of the sun, we will grate- 
 fully acknowledge the munificence of the great almo- 
 ner in an humble song. 
 
 Oh ! thou great source of every good, 
 From whom our blessings spring ; 
 
 We would acknowledge thee as God, 
 And to thy praises sing. 
 
 How bright and glorious are thy works, 
 
 How suited for our good : 
 Our thirst is quenched by the brooks, 
 
 The fields they yield us food. 
 
 The clouds descend in gentle rain, 
 
 And make the grass to grow ; 
 To feed the beasts, to fill the grain, 
 
 And make the riv'lets flow. 
 
 The glorious sun, the moon, and stars, 
 
 All in their seasons rise ; 
 Illuminate these lower spheres 
 
 And deck the azure skies. 
 
240 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 The sun beams nourish plant and flower, 
 And make the blossoms blow ; 
 
 Exhale the vapours by their power, 
 And make the spice bed grow ! 
 
 The sea produces many kinds 
 To please the various taste ; 
 
 Its scenes expand, and charm the minds 
 That view its boundless waste. 
 
 Man, fowl, and cattle, earth and air. 
 
 Proclaim a sovereign hand ; 
 First to create, then keep alive, 
 
 And cause them all to stand. 
 
 Perfect are all his labours here, 
 
 Unrivall'd and sublime ; 
 As perfect is redemption's work, 
 
 Deep, skilful, and divine. 
 
 Happy for man the Lord is God, 
 And reigns and rules below ; 
 
 He studies all his children's good, 
 And makes their comforts flow. 
 
 Human device could nothing add 
 
 To beautify this orb, 
 Nor even angel's highest skill 
 
 Improve the upper globe. 
 
 God has completed all his works, 
 
 Left nought for man to do ; 
 Man would have failed in the vast work 
 
 The great Creator knew. 
 
JOr AND ORIEP. 241 
 
 Transporting- thought ! his grandest work, 
 
 Salvation, is complete ; 
 Oh ! for this love let every tongue 
 
 His constant praise repeat. 
 
 And now, dear sisters of my soul, 
 
 Ere we shall hence depart, 
 Let us, with one accord, consent 
 
 To give him all our heart. 
 
 We admire the numerous beauties of this nursery, 
 but there is another on earth whose elegance far sur- 
 passes this ; and the Lord God is the sun, and the 
 great husbandman. He tills the soil, and sows the 
 seed; he rears the plants, waters and keeps them 
 alive; he weeds the beds, warms and meliorates the 
 ground, and matures the harvest. Some are plants, 
 and some are trees, in this superior garden ; in their 
 season they all bud, blossom, and bear fruit, and as 
 they ripen the heavenly gardener gathers them in. 
 In a little time they will all be fit for the garner, and 
 then he will make one ingathering of the whole. 
 
 My dear C will ask where this garden is to be 
 
 seen ? You, my friend, understand me, but as C 
 
 does not, I will give her a brief explanation. In most 
 parts of this globe it is a scattered garden ; its bor- 
 ders extend through the whole earth, and yet it is so 
 enclosed, and so well guarded, that none can molest 
 it without the permission of the great husbandman. 
 
 The Christian church, my dear C , is the gar- 
 den I allude to ; and which excels this, and all the 
 gardens in the world. < The human heart is the soil; 
 the seed is the word of God ; the plants and trees are 
 ♦he different degrees of grace ; the water is the Spirit 
 
 x 
 
±4-1 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 that refreshes and invigorates them ; the sun is tht 
 grace that warms and matures them. The weeds ar 
 sins which are rooted out by the hand of God. The 
 buds, blossoms, and fruit are also grace, but of a. 
 higher degree ; when the fruit is ripe, the husband- 
 man sends his angels to gather it. That is, when the 
 Christian is ripe for glory, the Lord of the harvest 
 sends a shining host to escort the heaven-born soul to 
 its eternal home — a celestial mansion, far more mag- 
 nificent than can be conceived — a garden of .all joy 
 and delight, whose elysian beauties would puzzle an 
 angel to paint. The glorious paradise above can 
 only be partially described by its own fair inhabitants. 
 But see how the clouds arise ! they have enveloped 
 the face of the sun. What a gloom is spread over 
 the earth. Alas! so do the black clouds of sin fre- 
 quently overcast the happiness of the Christian, and 
 intercept the bright rays of the Sun of Righteous- 
 ness. When Jesus withdraws the light of his coun- 
 tenance, what gloom and sadness distress the soul ! 
 Now the clouds disperse, and bright Sol appears 
 again: how every thing seems to rejoice at his pre- 
 sence ! Just so the Saviour often breaks unexpectedly 
 through the clouds of darkness, and shines with 
 greater lustre on the soul : his animating presence 
 makes the believer's heart with love to burn, and draws 
 forth new songs of praise. The withholding the sun 
 from our view, makes us appreciate the blessing 
 of his light, and feel more grateful when again in-] 
 dulged with it. As with temporal things, so also 
 with spiritual. But see there are four persons ap- 
 proaching ; is it not brother, F , A , and ; 
 
 Anna ? it is. Have you come hither in search of us ?! 
 it is time to return I know; it grows towards even- 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 243 
 
 ing; we have spent the day in viewing the grand pro- 
 ductions of the great Architect of nature — the time 
 has imperceptibly glided away — when you have walk- 
 ed round the garden we will accompany you home. 
 Tiiere is another spot which I should like to visit this 
 evening, as we are all here together ; suppose we stop 
 as we pass ? it is not far from our dwelling. This is 
 the place I so much wish to survey — the grave of our 
 departed father, whose beloved remains I have a great 
 desire to see once more. You weep, my brother, and 
 would fly — but no, stay, it is good to familiarize our- 
 selves with death, for we must all come to the grave. 
 Our mother earth must receive her children again ; 
 for dust we are, and unto dust we must return. 
 
 You look sad, my sisters, at the sight of this once- 
 living, but now mouldering, clay— a few months since, 
 and his limbs were warm and active ; now alas ! they 
 are cold, stiff, and useless ; his cheeks once glowed 
 with health and smiles, but alas ! what ravages death 
 has made on them, scarce a feature can be recog- 
 nized, the smiles have fled, and worms consume the 
 flesh. See, oh ! my soul, to what thou must shortly 
 come — thy poor mansion must be in like manner dis- 
 solved, the clods of the valley must cover it, and the 
 worms of the ground feed on it. But what do I hear ? 
 The dead speaks ! The voice of my father breaks 
 forth from the grave. Eliza, the consumption of the 
 body is of little import — but the soul, that never dy- 
 ing part, oh ! let that be your great concern. Live 
 as thou wouldst wish to die, my child— live the Chris- 
 tian, that thy latter end may be that of the righteous. 
 Adorn thy profession, walk circumspectly, and keep 
 ihy lamp always trimmed, that when the Son of man 
 cometh, thou mayest be ready to receive him, and 
 
244 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 to depart in peace. My son, ray son, weep not 
 for your father ; you cannot recall him ; no he can 
 never more return to you — but you must come to him, 
 and be a prey to worms — then shed tears for yourself, 
 and go, " prepare to meet thy God," for the destroy- 
 ing monarch may come when you least expect him. 
 And you, my daughters, hear the voice of your father 
 from the tomb : behold me, look on my ashes, and 
 remember you also must come to the grave. Be not 
 trpubled for the dead — but, be deeply concerned for 
 yourselves ; for know that " the day is far advanced, 
 and the night cometh wherein no man can work." 
 Flee for your lives to the rock of salvation, Christ the 
 Son of God; lest the night overtake you, and shut 
 you up into outer darkness, and despair — there is no 
 repentance in the grave, remember this, and seek it 
 while living. Return oh ! my children ! return to 
 your dwelling, and be determined to serve the Lord 
 God of Heaven, who hath all power over your souls, 
 and who can and will consume you by the breath of 
 his mouth, if you obey not his Almighty commands. 
 Return, and bear this message to your widowed mo- 
 ther — tell her, time is short, eternity is long, and death 
 is at the door ; bid her beware of procrastination ; 
 tell her to fly to Christ, and seek an interest in his 
 atoning blood. Hear, oh! my children, the voice of 
 one from the ground, and let the counsel of the dead 
 rouse your immortal souls to holy obedience. Oh ! 
 put not off repentance to a dying hour ; that is an 
 unsuitable time to attend to eternal concerns. 
 
 I charge you to keep this advice in remembrance, 
 Oh ! my dear brother and sisters. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 24ft 
 
 Is this the language of our parent's clay ? 
 Then each the warning of the dead obey ; 
 Speakest thou from heaven or from the world below? 
 Or must we not, while in this dark vale, know ? 
 Ah ! why inquire, since God the just and wise, 
 Sees fit to hide this secret from our eyes ? 
 Enough that God a hope to us has given, 
 That thy loved spirit took its flight to heaven ; 
 Be this our anxious thought our first concern, 
 To love the Lord, and our own state to learn ; 
 Let's now begin — a day put off may prove 
 A day too late, to taste eternal love. 
 
 Such, methinks, my dear kindred, would be the lan- 
 guage of our departed father could he return to this 
 earth — but, although no real voice can give the solemn • 
 charge, his mouldering clay warns us to prepare for 
 death. Let us return home, and all resolve in the 
 strength of the Lord, to make our peace with God, 
 who is able, not only to kill the body and bring it to 
 dust again, but is also able to destroy the immortal 
 part of man, which was created for a nobler pur- 
 pose than vanity. But, let us go; the shades of 
 night approach, and the dew falls. Farewell ye sa- 
 cred ashes of my father, ye solemn shades of death, 
 and ye more cheerful scenes, all farewell ! Adieu 
 Alice, beloved friend of my soul ! and should we never 
 nieef again on earth, thus to enjoy the beauties of crea- 
 tion, we shall, I trust, meet in the paradise of God, 
 and for ever be delighted with scenes too great and 
 glorious for mortal hearts to conceive. We shall be 
 enraptured with the brightness of the Saviour's glory. 
 Farewell. 
 
 X 2 
 
246 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 Hurl-Gate, Tuesday, Sept. 18, 1821. » 
 
 Oh ! what a calm this evening reigns within 
 Of sacred peace ! A sweet and tranquil joy 
 Pervades throughout my heart, my soul and mind. 
 Amidst the strange convulsions of my frame. 
 But ah ! to-morrow, perhaps to-morrow's dawn. 
 Or, ere the evening shades again prevail, 
 Some inward warring may disturb my calm, 
 And sad commotion seize my peaceful breast. 
 This is a boisterous and tempestuous life; 
 5 Tis peace to-daj 7 , to-morrow storms arise, 
 And clouds of darkness hide the summer skies. 
 
 But why forebode this ill ? My soul, forbear ; 
 Enjoy the present, and the future leave; 
 Leave it to God ! and at his radiant throne 
 Oft wait, and he'll renew his strength and grace. 
 Watch well thy actions, and refrain from sin, 
 Resist temptation, bridle well thy tongue, 
 And then thou need'st not dread a change of scene, 
 
 Oh sweet serenity of soul! Stay blessed peace, 
 And smile for ever in my glowing breast ; 
 Be thou an inmate of my heart till death ; 
 Let thy sweet presence grace my dying hours, 
 And enter with me in the silent grave: 
 Then in immortal shades, celestial friend, 
 Bless me, through everlasting ages there. 
 
 Ah, thoughtless world ! how little do you know 
 The pleasures that arise from serving God ! 
 Strangers to religion and averse to good, 
 You grasp at phantoms and pursue false joys. 
 
 Ye votaries of sin ! ye wayfaring fools, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 24T 
 
 Who vainly seek for bliss in things of sense, 
 And toil and labour for the toys of time ; 
 Who catch at bubbles and at honours aim ; 
 The giddy round of dissipation run, 
 And find but vanity in the wild pursuit; 
 Yet, live as senseless as the senseless brute; 
 Forget you're mortal, forget you're fragile clay, 
 And that a thread supports your brittle lives. 
 Why will ye live so madly, when this life 
 Is but a shadow, or a fleeting dream, 
 That's told, forgot, and ne'er remember'd more ? 
 Yet sport with eternity that endures like God ! 
 
 Stop, silly mortals, stop your wild career, 
 Ere vengeance overtake your guilty heads, 
 And frown you down to everlasting wo ! 
 Stop, oh stop, or hell will be your lot; 
 For there's a dark abyss prepar'd for those 
 That will not listen to the Gospel sound ; 
 A dread abode for those who fear not God, 
 Obey his precepts, and revere his Son. 
 For such as love vain pleasure more than Christ 
 There is a prison and a burning lake, 
 An awful conscience, a consuming fire 
 The boundless seas can never, never quench. 
 
 There is a state, a doleful state for souls 
 That scorn the Saviour and despise his laws, 
 And trample under foot his heavenly blood ! 
 And there the worm ne'er dies, the flames ne'er cease: 
 Just vengeance and eternal wrath abide 
 For ever and for ever on their heads. 
 
 There is a gulf so nVd between (by God) 
 The unalterable state of heaven and hell, 
 That sinners cannot pass from hell to heaven ; 
 And if they could, their unconverted hearts 
 
248 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Would feel no relish for celestial joys. 
 
 Think not then, O ye disobedient race, 
 
 (Who spurn the overtures of sovereign grace) 
 
 To fly the sad dark dungeon of despair, 
 
 When once your wretched souls are shut up there ; 
 
 Myriads of years will slowly roll away, 
 
 Without one glimmering hope of future day ; 
 
 Ten million million countless ages more 
 
 Will bring the end no nearer than before ; 
 
 When these have fled, thrice times as many spend, 
 
 And find eternity will have no end. 
 
 Eternal misery ! sad dolorous state ! 
 
 Sinners repent, or such will be your fate. 
 
 Oh ! my heart sickens at the horrid thought ! 
 How many souls are hastening on to death, 
 That baneful death, that never, never dies ; 
 How unconcern'd they rush to pain and wo, 
 Dash down the precipice of black despair : 
 With open eyes they drink the poison in, 
 Alas ! alas ! and seal their endless ruin. 
 
 Enough, my soul, reverse the mournful scene j 
 Portray the bliss of those who love the Lord, 
 Take up his easy cross, despise the shame, 
 Endure reproaches for his sake from men, 
 And follow after him through all reports. 
 
 There is a calm, a sweet and peaceful calm, 
 Reserv'd for such as love their Maker here, 
 And in his grace and glorious name confide. 
 A rest for weary souls, that toil and pant, 
 And strive to overcome the pow'r of sin, 
 And live a life of holiness and faith. 
 A sweet repose, an everlasting home 
 For pilgrims who devote their time and strength 
 In the blessed service of their Master's cause ; 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 249 
 
 And practise faith and patience to the end. 
 
 A rich reward, a never fading crown 
 
 For the dear votaries of the Saviour's grace ; 
 
 Who leave their friends, their comforts, and their all, 
 
 And go to distant lands and broiling climes, 
 
 T' encounter danger, hardships, and fatigue, 
 
 For Messiah, the great Redeemer's sake. 
 
 A glorious kingdom kept in store for those 
 Who preach the Gospel, and proclaim good will 
 And peace to Adam's guilty fallen race. 
 
 A sweet inheritance laid up for all 
 Who fear the Lord, and his commands obey. 
 A blissful mansion for the weakest saint ; 
 Bright thrones for martyrs, and pure robes of white 
 For all who put their trust in God through life, 
 Believe his precious promises in death, 
 And trust him for the unseen things to come. 
 
 Christians! how bright your prospect after death : 
 Let the fair view you have of endless rest, 
 Animate you upon the heavenly way : 
 Oh ! let the condescending love of Christ 
 Stimulate you to all good works while here : 
 Press on with vigour and with holy zeal 
 Toward the prize which now by faith you see ; 
 And when the victory's gained, the prize is won, 
 Sin shall no more break in upon your peace, 
 Nor sorrows rise to intercept your joys. 
 
 Oh thou, my soul ! be valiant, bold and strong, 
 Fight the good fight of faith with all your might, 
 And when your labours cease, your work is done, 
 You shall mount up and claim the promised rest, ' 
 For ever praise, and be for ever bless'd. 
 And may it be my happy lot to meet 
 Those whom I love at my Redeemer's feet. 
 
250 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 With them I'd join to magnify his praise, 
 In grateful notes through everlasting days. 
 May you, my relatives, with Jesus reign, 
 And shine bright stars amidst the heavenly train. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 Eternal God ! great source of every good ! 
 To thee my highest praise and thanks are due, 
 For the rich blessing of thy glorious grace. 
 Why was I mark'd by thine Almighty eye 
 Ere time began, or ere I drew my breath, 
 And made to serve thee with a willing mind ? 
 Why was I made to hear kind mercy's voice ? 
 While some, alas ! are left to die in sin. 
 Oh Son of God ! my wond'ring soul would ask 
 Why was thy grace on such a wretch bestow'd ? 
 Why was I made to feel my fallen state, 
 And see my need of such a friend as thee, 
 And choose the blissful path that leads to heaven ? 
 What is my pedigree, or what am I ? 
 That such vast favour should be shown to me. 
 By nature and by practice I am vile ! 
 Prone, Lord, to sin ; so my forefathers were. 
 'Tis then, my God, through thy good will alone 
 (Since I am guilty — and my fathers too,) 
 That wretched I am so supremely bless'd ; 
 It must be so ! ah ! yes, oh Lord it is ! 
 Through thy good will and pleasure I am call'd 
 To see, and taste, and feel Almighty love ! 
 Infinite God ! through thy all potent pow'r 
 My heart is chang'd, and fix'd on thee for ever. 
 Oh Wond'rous change! Celestial grace, to thee 
 I owe my happy state. To thee I'm debtor 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 251 
 
 For the bright prospect of immortal joys, 
 
 And the bless'd hope of everlasting life. 
 
 Incarnate God ! from thee my hopes arise : 
 
 Thy sufferings on the tree procured my peace ; 
 
 Thy death has freed my slavish soul from hell, 
 
 Purchas'd my crown, secured eternal life, 
 
 And oh ! ransom'd me from the grave. Thy blood, 
 
 Thy precious blood, which flow'd in purple streams 
 
 When on the cross, on Calvary's bloody mount, 
 
 Hath seal'd my pardon, and appeas'd my God ! 
 
 Through thy obedience, I'm restor'd to life; 
 
 An angry God is reconcil'd again. 
 
 Now, thro' thy merits I enjoy the light, 
 
 My Father's frowns are into smiles all turn'd, 
 
 And blessings, numerous as the lamps of heav'n, 
 
 Descend as constant as the fulgid sun 
 
 Performs his daily functions round the globe : 
 
 Thus am I bless'd, and thro' my heav'nly friend. 
 
 Prostrate my soul ! and at his feet adore ! 
 Cast out all other idols from thy heart, 
 And let thy Saviour reign sole emp'ror there. 
 Come in, thou blest Redeemer ! take the rein, 
 Thrust out all else besides, and never more 
 Suffer the creature to usurp thy place. 
 My heart is thine ! Thine by the closest ties ! 
 Creator, Husband, Father, Saviour, Friend ! 
 Endearing titles, sweet engaging names, 
 Oh ! what exquisite rapture they convey 
 To my extatic, idolizing soul ! 
 They give an emphasis to all my joys. 
 
 My heart is thine ! oh Lord, it cleaves to thee ! 
 Closer than the ivy clings round the tree. 
 Time may divide the tendrils from the bark, 
 But oh heart cheering thought ! death nor the grave, 
 
252 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Can never sever my firm heart from thee. 
 
 As the fond suckling from its mother's breast 
 
 Inhales the jukes that sustains its life, 
 
 So I extract the sweets from those blest streams 
 
 That flow from purer veins, the veins of Christ! 
 
 And richly feast my hungry soul with love. 
 
 Have not I given myself long since to thee, 
 And bound my soul to thee by sacred ties, 
 Unknown to mortals that ne'er felt thy love. 
 But oh, sad thought ! how often since I've rov'd 
 And hewn out broken cisterns, empty wells 
 That hold no water. Like silly Ephraim 
 Sought out idols, and kept aloof from thee ! 
 But oh, thy kindness brought me back again ; 
 And now permit my grateful soul to bow, 
 And doubly praise, and thrice adore thy name. 
 
 Again permit me, oh ! thou whom I love, 
 To speak my passion and renew my vows ! 
 Thou radiant sun, thou moon and stars, 
 Witness my fervent ardour and my zeal. 
 And ye bright seraphs of the upper world, 
 List to the sacred strains, and lend your aid, 
 My thoughts aspire to your immortal notes, 
 Nor shall I rest till I attain your joys. 
 
 Jesus, I love thee ! and no power shall break 
 The golden cords that bind my soul to thee. 
 I love thee ! but not as I love my friends ; 
 Not as I love the trophies of thy pow'r, 
 Nor as I love thy charming works abroad, 
 But with an unutterable flame ! with zeal 
 Divine ! feelings that mortals can't express. 
 I love, cold epithet ! oh ! I adore 
 With celestial passion such as angels feel : 
 And more — for tho' the angels have not sinn'd 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. -ji 
 
 They're tolal strangers to redeeming love ! 
 Taste not the luxuries which salvation brings, 
 Nor can they sip from that bless'd fount I drink. 
 Yes ! I adore thee, and with every pow'r : 
 Each faculty is ravished with thy charms, 
 And still sighs for a more transcendent view ; 
 I pine, I languish, for a fuller sight. 
 
 That noble deed upon the humbling cross 
 Fires my soul, and lowers my rising pride ; 
 Exalted virtues from thy nature rise 
 And kindle the glowing fire ! I feel it 
 Burn— it burns through each vein and vital spring. 
 Thy beauties spread the flames through every nerve, 
 ' And blow my passion to a glaring blaze 
 Of unutterable height ! to thee, oh thou 
 My glorious advocate on high ! to thee 
 My adoring thoughts aspire : while all the 
 Joys of sense have not one charm to allure. 
 My soul mounts up to thee on wings of faith, 
 And longs to drop this curnb'rous clog below, 
 And dive disembodied, 'midst the shining throng. 
 Oh how 1 long to fly these earthly clods ! 
 Be stript of fleshly weeds that chain me here, 
 And soar to arms of everlasting love. 
 Ye rolling spheres move on your course with speed, 
 Turn round your axis with a vivid pace, 
 And bring about the dear delightful day. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 Still I must vent my feelings through the pen, 
 And swell the muse with my Redeemer's praise : 
 Still my glad bosom burns with ardent love ; 
 Still my heart glows with celestial fire, 
 
 Y 
 
234 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 And longs to pour effusions in Christ's ear : 
 Flow on my praise, my thoughts to Jesus fly 
 
 Jesus thou art the brightest gem, 
 The loveliest fragrant flow'r, 
 
 The brightest stalk, the fairest stem, 
 That smiles in Eden's bower. 
 
 The sweetest lily of the fields, 
 
 The fairest blooming rose, 
 The choicest plant that heaven yields. 
 
 Most graceful bud that blows. 
 
 Could I climb o'er the garden wall 
 
 Of paradise above, 
 I'd ramble o'er the flow'ry vale, 
 
 And satiate my love. 
 
 I'd seek the fairest flow'r that grows. 
 The sweetest fragrance there ; 
 
 And pluck the lily and the rose, 
 Nor thorn nor thistle fear. 
 
 From Christ the lily and the rose. 
 
 The jewel and the gem, 
 New beauties every hour disclose 
 
 To angels and to men. 
 
 Oh ! thou art fair, divinely fair, my God ; 
 Fairer than woman — or, all else besides. 
 All the bright orders of the heav'nly ranks 
 Are but dim rubies when compar'd to thee ; 
 Yes, thou art fair my love ! and brighter than 
 The vast myriads that adorn the skies. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 255 
 
 Thou art al! pure and spotless — yea, purer 
 Than a virgin's vestal robes. And lovelier 
 Than the blossom that bloom'd on Aaron's rod ; 
 Than vernal graces, or than flow'ry groves : 
 Far lovelier than the gilded beams of morn, 
 Or than the bright fair limpid setting sun, 
 
 Oh, the bewitching charms that spread thy face ! 
 What glories in thy visage I behold ; 
 What love and mercy in thy grace I see, 
 To raise my highest adorations high'r. 
 Here I am lost ; I'm lost, expression fails ! • 
 Immortal eloquence alone can paint 
 The unrivall'd graces that invest thy 
 Soul, and allure and fascinate my heart. 
 
 All my best pow'rs, O God, I give to thee ! 
 My heart, my soul, my talents, mind, and strength, 
 My days, and years, I all devote to thee ; 
 In thy blest strength, Lord, I present the boon ; 
 Through grace. I humbly give all, all to heaven ! 
 Cast earth, with all its store, behind my back. 
 
 Yes Lord! I give my heart, and soul to thee, 
 They're firmly fixed, eternally fixed above, 
 Nor earth nor hell shall break the cov'nant tie. 
 Witness ye angels ! and ye saints of light ! 
 This act of faith, by sweet constraining grace : 
 Should I dissemble, should my heart e'er change, 
 Let your reproaches then fall on my head. 
 
 But search me, Lord, and try my inmost reins. 
 And see whether my passion is sincere ? 
 What shall I do to daily prove my love ? 
 Teach me, O God, that I may know the way 
 To prove the fidelity of my soul ! 
 Let thy good spirit guide me, and thy grace 
 
-r 
 
 256 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Instruct me how to Jive and how to die, 
 Devotedly and immutably thine. 
 
 Keep mc, oh God of Jacob, keep my soul ; 
 For by thy power alone I am preserved : 
 Thy grace alone can make me keep my vows, 
 Withhold that, Lord, and I am as one dead ; 
 My strength, my ardour, and my zeal will fly, 
 And God and heaven no more be felt within. 
 Great God ! with all my soul, my mind and strength. 
 I implore thy grace to keep my heart from sin. 
 Never, O never let me go astray, 
 Nor be puffed up by supercilious pride : 
 Rivet my affections more and more profound, 
 On the dear image of thy darling Son. 
 And oh, secure them from infernal arrows ! 
 My highest hopes all on thy grace depend, 
 For my own strength, alasi at best, is weak. 
 
 I charge you, ye black powers of hell and earth. 
 Approach me not, nor break upon my peace ; 
 Attempt no more to weaken my firm faith ; 
 "Twas you and inward foes that set the trap, 
 The horrid gin that so ensnared my feet, 
 And made me love the creature in God's stead. 
 And thou beware, O my unstable heart! 
 (Who in the tents of Mesech yet dost dwell) 
 Touch not, taste not, nor of her ways partake; 
 Watch well, pray much, and shun her flattering wiles: 
 And thou shalt 'scape the dangers of deceit. 
 Ye false delectations, ye terrestrial joys, 
 Ye vain and visionary pleasures all avaunt ! 
 I seek, nor want to drink your vain delights, 
 I've other joys that you know nothing of; 
 The joys of heaven — angels' holy joys! 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 257 
 
 Christ is the bliss—the pleasure I pursue ; 
 
 (And not your fieetingjoys, your fancied gems. 
 
 That vanish as dew, or as the morning cloud, 
 
 Here to-day,~to morrow for ever gone, 
 
 But,) solid as eternity itself, 
 
 Firm as the rock on which my hopes are built, 
 
 Are the delights on which my heart is fixed. 
 
 Let me be weaned from earth — vain world begone ! 
 
 And let me be alive to God alone. 
 
 Pity the multitude, eternal God ! 
 Who stand upon the brink of death and hell, 
 Who sport with conscience and their Maker's name, 
 Refuse wise counsel, trample on thy laws, 
 And trifle with eternity. Pity, 
 Oh ! pity their unconcern for heaven, 
 Futurity, and their immortal good. 
 Arise, oh God ! and stop their dangerous course, 
 Ere they, like Pharaoh and his vagrant host 
 Plunge in the sea, and perish in the floods. 
 
 TO JAMES H , Sear. 
 
 January, 1822. 
 
 Oh! honour'd friend ! thou favour'd son of heaven, 
 Hath God to thee such brilliant talents given, 
 To have them buried and remain unknown, 
 While thousands in such awful ign'rance groan ? 
 
 Ah no! thy lucid parts are gifts of God, 
 
 Implanted in the mind for some great good; [thing, 
 
 Why then keep back, oh H ! since some good 
 
 Is found in thee toward the heav'nly King f 
 
 Y 
 
258 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Why from the world those blessed gifts then hide? 
 Surely 'tis not the fault of noxious pride, 
 Which makes this world so given to sin and strife. 
 The fall of angels, and the bane of life ?j 
 
 The fear of man ofttimes the soul ensnares, 
 And fills the mind with grief and sinful cares: 
 But think not, worthy friend, that I design 
 T' accuse thee wrongly of this woful crime. 
 
 O no ! but diffidence my thoughts would say, 
 Has o'er thy mind (perhaps) too great a sway ; 
 Humility's a noble trait indeed, 
 And doth some other graces far exceed : 
 
 But may we not, great sage and honour'd sir, 
 Grossly deceive ourselves and vastly err ? 
 Let us beware lest we deceive our heart, 
 And make it act a false and selfish part. 
 
 Words loudly speak — your actions louder still 
 Bespeak the Christian with an humble will ; 
 But why neglect what gratitude demands, 
 What love dictates ? — to do the Lord's commands. 
 
 
 Come boldly forth, my friend — at once decide, 
 And show the world you're on the Sp.viour's side ; 
 Obey his mandates, and his love declare — [there. 
 Lo ! Jordan's streams — go — plunge and wash you 
 
 Behold the feast, and lo ! the table spread. 
 Arise, and eat the sacramental bread : 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 2!>9 
 
 The blessing waits you — duty loudly calls, 
 
 To prove your love to Christ the friend of souls. 
 
 Oh ! keep not back, dear friend, nor still refuse 
 To spread Jehovah's praises with thy muse ; 
 Or tell the world the Saviour's dying love, 
 And point their souls to endless joys above. 
 
 Hath not God qualified your mind to teach? 
 Then turn your iong divided thoughts to preac h ; 
 Nor sea nor country more your mind employ, 
 But preach the Gospel to the world with joy. 
 
 Dear valued friend, accept these humble lines, 
 "With my best thanks for goodness in past times ; 
 For kindness now, may Jesus you reward 
 With ev'ry blessing, grace and life afford. 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 
 
 I do not, my dear friend, pretend to possess those 
 amiable properties and many moral excellencies 
 which have composed your life; (would that I could 
 imitate many of your worthy examples;) but though 
 I feel myself to be inferior in a moral sense, candour 
 obliges me to say that you are still wanting of some- 
 thing to make you all you possibly can be, or what 
 the heart could wish you in a mortal state, and that is 
 the " one thing needful." You have not yet found 
 ' the pearl of great price." Unless you possess that 
 inestimable gem all other valuable aud admirable 
 
260 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 qualifications will not secure your eternal welfare ; be 
 assured they will not effect one step towards it, though 
 they may in a measure be conducive to your happi- 
 ness here ; yet they will not, they cannot in the least 
 contribute to your felicity hereafter. No good quali- 
 fications of the mind can recommend us to the divine 
 favour, for all our best deeds are as filthy rags in the 
 sight of God. Lorenzo, I very highly esteem your 
 mortal self—but your soul, that never-dying part, I 
 doubly appreciate ; and I cannot, indeed, any longer 
 refrain from speaking to you on so important a matter. 
 I must acknowledge, and with shame, that I have too 
 long neglected this duty through that dangerous sin 
 which predominates too much among professors ; I 
 mean the fear of man. But my conscience will no 
 longer suffer me to keep silent. If 1 should neglect to 
 admonish you to seek an interest in the Saviour, and 
 warn you of the danger your soul is in while you re- 
 main alienated from God, I should justly deserve to 
 be reproached by you in that august day when the 
 Great Judge shall appear at his tribunal to decide 
 and pass sentence. It would be no proof of my friend- 
 ship to let you deceive yourself with false hopes and 
 views, through the fear of my being thought pre- 
 sumptuous if 1 should use the freedom to tell you of 
 the sad delusion you are under. I, therefore, with the 
 greatest deference and candour solicit you to examine 
 yourself, and see whether your hopes are built on a 
 right foundation. The heart is deceitful, and it is an 
 easy matter for us to impose upon ourselves. Christ 
 Jesus is the only sure rock on which we can build ; if 
 we trust to any other the foundation will fall, and our 
 false hopes be destroyed. Listen, Lorenzo, while I 
 attempt to speak a few words of advice ; and though 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 261 
 
 it comes from the pen of a frail woman, yet believe 
 me. it comes from the heart ; it is the counsel of one 
 who has your good sincerely on her mind, and who 
 would rejoice with unspeakable joy to see your hap- 
 piness in any way enhanced, but who feels^ particu- 
 larly interested for the prosperity of your soul. Per- 
 mit me, then, to entreat of you to explore the word 
 of inspiration for yourself, and not trust to the opinion 
 of speculative writers; it is a most dangerous thing. 
 That religion which is not reduced to practice cannot 
 be said to be a religion. To have the theory without 
 the practice will avail nothing ; it would be better for 
 such in the day of judgment that they had been as the 
 ignorant heathen ; their knowledge will be to their 
 greater condemnation. 
 
 The speculators in religion run into a thousand 
 errors, and often distract their brains; the generality 
 of them believe nothing ; they get so bewildered at 
 length as to imagine the whole to be of men's devices ; 
 and alas ! the Holy Scriptures a mass of fabrication. 
 But what else can be expected if men will carelessly 
 run over the Word of God which cannot lie, and 
 puzzle their brains with the mere ideal inventions of 
 frail mortals, who, like themselves, are full of error ? 
 Oh, my dear friend, give this a serious reflection ; do 
 not die in a delusion for want of searching faithfully 
 the blessed Bible, from which you will learn that the 
 most moral and amiable of beings possess wicked 
 hearts, and are condemnable in the eye of God, and 
 need his grace to change them as much as the openly 
 wicked. The word of God will reveal to you the 
 nature of sin and regeneration, and the real necessity 
 of a change of heart. I have heard you speak of the 
 injustice of God in election ; but do not let that doc- 
 
2 <32 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 trine impede your search. Let it be your first and 
 only concern to ascertain your real character by na- 
 ture and practice, and as it stands in the sight of the 
 great Jehovah ; and to seek an interest in the effica- 
 cious and atoning blood of his glorious Son ; and if 
 you obtain that interest, which you assuredly will if 
 you seek it unfeignedly, the Holy Spirit will disclose 
 to you the meaning of many passages in Scripture 
 which may now appear dark and inexplicable. The 
 doctrine of predestination will no doubt be elucidated 
 to your satisfaction, should you become savingly ac- 
 quainted with God. Religion, I know, is a great 
 mystery to the unconverted. It is a mystery even to 
 those who are born again ; so it is no wonder that it 
 is impossible for the " natural man to discern the 
 things of the Spirit." But God has revealed sufficient 
 in his word for the capacity of every rational crea- 
 ture to comprehend, if he reads, or listens with a true 
 desire of being instructed in divine things. The way 
 of life is pointed out to us, as plain as the alphabet, 
 and we are as capable of understanding its meaning 
 as we are of learning our letters, if we have but the 
 same inclination to be instructed in the one as the other ; 
 the fault does not lay in our capacity, but in our will; 
 but so totally depraved are our wills, that without the 
 grace of God we should never be willing at all, but 
 die in ignorance and unbelief. — But God has pro- 
 mised that if we seek his face we shall find it, if we 
 ask it shall be given to us ; we ought, therefore, to be 
 obedient to his heavenly mandate, and take encourage- 
 ment iroiu ins gracious promises, that " if we seek we 
 shall find." Let it then be your immediate study, 
 my dear friend, to seek the Lord. 1 urge you to it 
 
JOY AND GRrEF. 268 
 
 because I value your soul, and wish ardently for your 
 abode in the next world to be among the blessed. 
 
 Do not imagine religion is an insipid thing, as too 
 many do who have not tasted it; I can assure you it is 
 not so, I have drank both into the pleasures of this 
 world and the joys of religion, and can judge which 
 is the most acceptable. From sweet experience I do 
 know that religion has charms the world knows no- 
 thing of, and solid pleasures to which the gay and 
 thoughtless are strangers. Yes, they are indeed stran- 
 gers to the pleasures of godliness. You, Lorenzo, 
 have partook largely of what the world calls pleasure; 
 but do they satisfy your immortal soul f No I am 
 sensible they cannot—they leave a void within ; you 
 sigh for something you have not yet possessed, and it 
 is for substantial bliss, for joys which nothing short 
 of God can bestow. It is religion that you want— 
 and never will you be really happy without it, though 
 you possessed all the wealth and luxuries earth's fer- 
 tile stores could lavish on you. Come then, dear 
 friend, and taste those heavenly joys which only can 
 satisfy an immortal soul.— That noble part of man 
 was never made for vanity and dust, it was created 
 for the glory of its Mal^r. Let us, then, both in our 
 lives and conversation, glorify our Creator, and so 
 answer the end for whkb we were made— do not pro- 
 crastinate—if we wait for to-morrow, remember to- 
 morrow may never con e; we cannot call a moment 
 our own, our lives are not in our own hands, we are 
 at the Lord's disposal, and he may surprise us with a 
 message to appear at his bar when we least suspect it 
 
 Do not think I mean to be presuming, it is not m v 
 intention to dictate to one I consider superior in all 
 points, but the blessed knowledge of an exalted i?e- 
 
264 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 deemer. It is only my intention to warn, to intreat, 
 and beseech you, as a sincere friend, to attend to your 
 eternal concerns. I feel an anxious solicitude for your 
 immortal welfare, and therefore am constrained by the 
 feelings of both friendship and duty, to address you 
 on the solemn occasion, and which I hope you will 
 not take amiss. Without flattery, I must confess I 
 think that were your affections renovated, and your 
 heart changed, that you would be a bright and shin- 
 ing light in the church of God, and a useful instru- 
 ment in his hand, to the furthering of the Saviour's 
 kingdom. These are my present impressions from 
 what I know of your abilities and disposition. But 
 pardon this long and tedious scrawl, it was not my 
 design to have been so prolix when I commenced this 
 sheet, but as you already know it is a great failing of 
 mine, hope your goodness will excuse me. I am 
 happy to inform you, that, through mercy, I am bet- 
 ter. The fore part of the winter I frequently had 
 those paroxysms I am troubled with, but I am more 
 encouraged now to hope I shall recover entirely from 
 them. But this is the Lord's goodness ; I have made 
 it a matter of prayer to him for a long time past, and 
 he is now appearing in my behalf. Unto him may 
 all the praise redound, for through his power and 
 mercy the blessing comes. But I am still running 
 on, and not only tiring you, but injuring myself. 
 Adieu, and may a blessing accompany these feeble 
 lines. Wishing you every felicity this life can afford, 
 and the richer blessings of grace and peace, I am 
 yours with the greatest respect and affection, 
 
 Eliza. 
 
JOY AJJD GRIEF. 26j 
 
 TO CAROLINE FRANCES M , AGED FOUR MONTHS. 
 
 1.822. 
 
 And dost thou smile so sweetly, babe, 
 
 So sweetly smile on me ? 
 Dost thou so soon begin to know 
 
 Her who dearly loves thee ? 
 
 Bewitching child, those smiling looks 
 
 Too much allure my heart ; 
 I fear lest I an idol make, 
 
 And cause the flesh to smart. 
 
 I soon must leave thee for a time, 
 
 Must from my darling go ; 
 The thought is painful— but 'tis best 
 
 To part awhile I know. 
 
 Love's dang'rous flame hath more than once 
 
 Made havoc of the flesh ; 
 And now I tremble — dread the fire 
 
 Lest it should burn afresh. 
 
 Yes, lovely babe, thine infant charms 
 
 Close round my heart entwine; 
 Already thou art too well lov'd 
 
 By this fond breast of mine. 
 
 But ah ! who could those winning smiles 
 
 Behold, and not be mov'd, 
 Except the cold phlegmatic heart 
 
 That never once has lov'd ? 
 z 
 
266 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 More lovely than the op'ning day, 
 More beauteous than a flow'r, 
 
 Thou dost thy growing charms display, 
 And show thy Maker's pow'r. 
 
 Thine eyes like sparkling rubies shine, 
 And like the sun beams smile, 
 
 A sweet intelligence they speak, 
 And oft my thoughts beguile. 
 
 P'raps some who seldom see thy face, 
 
 And little of thee know, 
 May think it wild extravagance 
 
 To eulogize thee so. 
 
 But ah ! they know thee not, nor see 
 
 The beauties 1 behold, 
 Which like the lily and the rose 
 
 So delicate unfold. 
 
 How oft I kiss those vermil lips, 
 And press thee to my breast, 
 
 And hope my little Frances may 
 In early life be bless'd ; 
 
 Grow up in grace and fear the Lord, 
 
 And glorify him here, 
 And shine a bright gem in his crown, 
 
 When he shall reappear. 
 
 Soon as thy infant tongue can lisp. 
 May it the Saviour praise ; 
 
 Heav'n smile upon thy tender years 
 And guard thy youthful days. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. ?07 
 
 Oft when I gaze upon thy charms, 
 
 Think they must fade so soon, 
 And the fair stem on which they grow 
 
 Must drop into the tomb 5 
 
 To heav'n I lift imploring eyes 
 
 To have thy soul renew'd, 
 Thy heart in heav'nly wisdom skiil'd. 
 
 Thy path with blessings strew'd. 
 
 Great God smile on this lovely babe, 
 
 And bless her infant days, 
 And crown her life with peace and joy, 
 
 And teach her tongue to praise. 
 
 And when the day of death arrives, 
 
 That solemn hour shall come, 
 Send down a convoy from the skies 
 
 And fetch her spirit home. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON THE PROSPECT OF VERY SOON 
 LOSING A FRIEND. 
 
 Alas ! and is my friend brought nigh to death? 
 Great God ! must he so soon resign his breath ? 
 Who doth to me a second father prove, 
 And whom as such I do revere and love ? 
 
 Twelve months have scarcely fled, since I beheld 
 
 My own dear parent on a death-bed laid ; 
 
 Ah ! must I feel another loss so soon, 
 
 Will death the mansion of my friend invade? 
 
268 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Yes— oh yes ! Death aims his shafts to slay, 
 And threatens fast, alas ! to seize his prey ; 
 Oh God ! support me in this trying hour, 
 Nor let me kick against thy will and pow'r. 
 
 Could I but now express my grateful thanks, 
 Pay the last grateful tribute to my friend, 
 Watch his last breath, and see his soul depart, 
 How it would ease my sad and burden'd mind. 
 
 But heav'n will not indulge my longing heart 
 To repeat its thanks, and see the saint depart ; 
 But I submit — it is my Saviour's will, 
 He so ordains it and I would be still. 
 
 Thrice have I taken leave— and thrice, and thrice 
 I've made attempt my gratitude to speak, 
 But my heart fail'd, and I declin'd through fear 
 It might be thought it was for interest's sake, 
 
 Like one devoid of sense I go and come, 
 And dare not thank my friend for what he's done, 
 Lest it should look like asking still for more, 
 A meanness I disdain and much abhor. 
 
 But in this thought a solace sweet I find, 
 God knows my heart, and my best friends my mind, 
 And I ere long shall meet my friend again, 
 Where I my actions freely can explain. 
 
 Oh blissful thought! that I shall see the saint 
 In that bless'd world where there is no restraint, 
 No jealous eye to scan my motives there, 
 And scrutinize my conduct like some here, 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 269 
 
 Till then I'll wait, my kind and gen'rous friend, 
 For I no more shall see thy spirit here ; 
 But thy cold mansion I again shall view, 
 Kiss thy wan cheek, and bid a last adieu. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 But come, my soul, since thou can't see him die. 
 Trace his glad flight to yon bright realms on high, 
 Let fancy now the dying scene portray, 
 And follow him beyond the milky way. 
 
 While earthly friends, his earthly wants attend, 
 And pay their homage to a faithful friend, 
 Angels are hovering round his dying bed, 
 Waiting to guide him home and crown his head. 
 
 A few more sighs — a struggle — lo, he dies ! 
 And holy convoys bear him through the skies; 
 He mounts — he soars where suns resplendent roll ; 
 He's safe — the saint has reach'd the heavn'ly goal. 
 
 Heaven's portals ope — and myriads round him throng, 
 And 'gratulate him with a joyful song ; 
 The golden lyre, the harp, or, softer lute, 
 With sweetest melody his ears salute. 
 
 His ravished eyes on Christ with rapture gaze, 
 His grateful tongue breaks out in endless lays, 
 Cauldwell is first to hail him at the throne, 
 Jesus to smile and welcome him at home. 
 
 Z 2 
 
210 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Cauldwell and Withington have met again 
 To part no more, nor feel the woes of pain. 
 The grief of sin, the pain of toil and care, 
 Nor more the sorrows of this world to share, 
 
 Methinks I see their kindred spirits meet. 
 Salute, and worship at Emmanuel's feet, 
 Striving their glad and highest notes to raise 
 In sweet accord, each swelling Jesus' praise. 
 
 My friend, how great thy joy! how bright thy bliss i 
 For thee I must rejoice — my tears dismiss; 
 But I can ne'er forget thee, for in thee 
 I found a father kind, and loved by me. 
 
 Thus has my fancy followed thee to heaven, 
 Even before death's fatal blow is given ; 
 But ah ! thy speech fast failing; cap and shroud 
 Blight every hope, and speak thy exit loud. 
 
 Yon limpid sun now sinking in the west, 
 May rise on thee once more, but not I fear 
 Go down again ere you cross Jordan's flood, 
 And climb to heaven and drop your mantle here. 
 
 March 26, 1822. 
 
 * ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF MR. JOHN WITHINGTON 
 
 March 27, 1822. 
 
 The travelling monarch of the azure sky 
 Did rise this morn to see the pilgrim die ; 
 And, as I thought, the spirit took its flight 
 Before the sun again withdrew his light. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 271 
 
 He's gone ! alas ! my benefactor's gone, 
 I must not murmur but my heart may mourn ; 
 Mine eyes may weep, my sighs to God ascend, 
 And follow thee, oh YVithington, my friend ! 
 
 I little thought that he would first be called 
 To leave this vale and range the upper world; 
 But ah ! he's fled and gone to scenes divine, 
 Where the redeemed in robes resplendent shine. 
 
 But nature frail would ask now if it dared, 
 
 Why such a useless life as mine is spared ? 
 
 While he 'midst usefulness is called to sleep, 
 
 And leave the church to mourn and friends to weep? 
 
 But he who will'd it doth in mystery reign, 
 And will hereafter all dark things explain ; 
 Though he see's fit his reasons now to hide, 
 Wisdom and mercy all his ways do guide. 
 
 Wish not my soul the works of God to scan, 
 His thoughts by far exceed the thoughts of man ; 
 His thoughts are just, profound his ways and skill — 
 In wisdom deep, " He works his sovereign will." 
 
 My heart may wonder, but, if wondering, still 
 Must own and love a God whose holy will 
 Can never err; whose ways are just and right, 
 Are all perfection and divinely bright. 
 
 If he see's fit to snatch our friends away, 
 Perhaps it is to make us more obey, 
 And love him more, and more in him to trust, 
 To make them happy and supremely blest. 
 
272 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Let no repinirtgs then escape my breast, 
 Since my -kind friend has gone to endless rest; 
 Heaven is just, ami orders all things right, 
 And what he does is good in his pure sight. 
 
 Oh then farewell ! till God shall call me home, 
 To join the dazzling armies round the throne; 
 To chant his praise and sing redeeming love, 
 And meet thy soul among the blest above. 
 
 TO ANNA MATILDA S , AGED ELEVEN YEARS. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Flow on my muse, and speak a gentle word 
 To the fair daughter of a valued friend; 
 
 Warn her in youth to shun the thoughtless crowd. 
 Whose ways conduct to mis'ry in the end. 
 
 Anna, sweet girl, in early days of life 
 O learn to estimate the soul's true worth ; 
 
 That glorious, precious, and immortal part 
 Was never formed for vanity and earth. 
 
 Let not the gay enchanting things of time 
 Allure and guide your immortal soul astray, 
 
 But the sweet work and happy choice be thine, 
 To follow Christ who led the heavenly way. 
 
 He is the path to bliss, and bliss itself, 
 And bids you seek without delay the road 
 
 He marked, while here a tenant in this vale, 
 And nobly shed for guilty man his blood 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 273 
 
 Grasp not a shadow, pursue not vain delights* 
 But let the fleeting phantom pleasure fly ; 
 
 O raise your thoughts to nobler things above, 
 Seek pleasures that will never, never die. 
 
 TO EDWARD , ON GOING TO SEA. 
 
 Farewell! my dear couz', when you brave the 
 deep main, 
 
 And ride on old Neptune's tall rough foaming steed* 
 I'll think of your dangers and supplicate heaven 
 
 To preserve you from death and a wat'ry bed. 
 
 When on the ocean's wide bosom you're toiling? 
 
 Or o'er fructuous India you ramble alone, 
 And juvenile sports to memory recalling, 
 
 O think of your kindred, and think of your home. 
 
 Think of the dangers you escaped in ear' life, 
 
 And dangers surrounding your youth when abroad ; 
 
 Forget not the hand that protects you from harm, 
 Forget not you're mortal, and that there's a God. 
 
 Think now of the dangers you're soon to encounter 
 Both by sea and by land, where black pestilence 
 spread, 
 And swept away thousands, unaware of the monster, 
 And the sad awful slaughter that brewed o'er their 
 head. 
 
 Ah ! then think and reflect that you might not escape 
 The tornado again, or the just fatal rod, 
 
 Which made India to groan when her borders you fled ; 
 Oh consider these things and prepare to meet God. 
 
274 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Beware of temptation, and shun the broad roac2 
 Which leads on to ruin ; destruction and wo 
 
 Will finally banish your soul from the Lord, 
 And sink you to endless perdition below. 
 
 Oh may the same arm that preserved you before. 
 Extend and protect you on sea and on land, 
 
 And guide you safe back to Columbia's blest shore, 
 Where peace and the Gospel their blessings expand: 
 
 LETTER TO MISS ELIZA B- 
 
 March, 1822. 
 
 For more than six years past, since encouragement 
 was first given me to hope for health, I have been 
 like the poor shipwrecked mariner, who after being 
 many days tossed to and fro by contrary winds, and 
 boiling billows, beholds a port in which he hopes he 
 may safely steer ; but just as he thinks he has nearly 
 gained the desired haven, some rude and unexpected 
 blast drives him back to encounter again the toil, fa- 
 tigue, and terror of the foaming and merciless waves. 
 Again and again he is brought within its view, his 
 hopes revive, again are blasted, till at length he al- 
 most despairs of ever reaching the shore; but in some 
 unexpected and unlocked for moment, an auspicious 
 gale drives him smoothly down the bay and puts him 
 safe on land. Thus, my dear Eliza, has my poor bark 
 been driven and worried by the storms of affliction ; 
 sometimes lifted up by hope, and then tossed and 
 crushed again by the violence of the tempest ; hope 
 and fear have alternately been the inmates of my 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 275 
 
 breast; often when prospects appeared most bright, 
 a cloud arose, a storm collected, and burst upon my 
 head : again the clouds would somewhat disperse, the 
 winds abate, and the sun promise to smile, but ere he 
 shone perspicuous, another storm gathered, blacken- 
 ed the prospect, and almost vanquished hope. But 
 now, oh surprising! like the weary mariner, after be- 
 ing so long tossed hither and thither, the dark scene 
 brightens, hope resuscitates and animates my spirits. 
 
 Sweet anticipation of healthier days ! my, perhaps 
 too sanguine, heart beholds the fair Salus approach 
 with smiles, decked with roseate bloom. Delightful 
 view ! hail salutiferous maid ! hail lovely friend ! wel- 
 come with all thy native strength — welcome thrice, 
 aud thrice welcome to these dilated arms ! a cordial 
 to my longing bosom, enter once more this wean- 
 breast and there erect thy darling throne. 
 
 Sometimes, my friend, I check my elated hopes, and 
 feai the blast; but, it strongly returns again, and 
 bids me not despond. Have faith, it cries, and cease 
 not to look to the hand from whence all blessings 
 flow; be not cast down, away with unbelief, bring 
 your petitions daily to a throne of grace, and leave 
 them there, and trust to providence for the result. 
 
 At these encouraging sounds, my dear E , mv 
 
 heart then revives, and my imagination paints a live- 
 ly view. I see the blessing advance, and though its 
 steps are tardy, in its hand it holds forth roses as 
 blooming as a summer's morn, and with mildness 
 bids me wait the return of vital spring; assuring me 
 that vernal breezes will shortly waft along and speed 
 her way to meliorate the soil, and plant new roses in 
 this faded cheek. Now will I cast my sinful fears 
 abroad, henceforth give to the winds mv foolish doir 
 
276 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 and patiently wait the Lord's good time, anticipating 
 the glad arrival. 
 
 Nothing, my dear E — — , is impossible with God. 
 Man's skill may fail, but the power of God is the 
 same from generation to generation, yea, even 
 through eternity. Prayer may prevail, when human 
 means may cease to have effect. I may, in time past, 
 have looked too much to the arm of flesh. I trust I 
 did — and the Lord justly cast me many times into the 
 furnace, to teach me that my help must come from 
 him. I find it so, for though the skill of an eminent 
 physician wrought great things for me, yet, it did not 
 cure. For better than two years I have had no medi- 
 cal aid — for the last twelve months I have been led 
 by the Spirit of God, I trust, to supplicate in a spe- 
 cial manner for the restoration of my health, if it was 
 the divine will to grant it. A few friends have joined 
 their prayers with mine, and I must candidly ac- 
 knowledge, that I think my gracious Redeemer is now 
 interposing for me. I have every encouragement to 
 hope I shall be blessed with a much greater share of 
 health and strength, perhaps perfect health. In the 
 commencement of the winter my fits were frequent, 
 but lately they decrease, and my vigor increases; so 
 you see, my dear Eliza, I have much reason to hope 
 that I shall, through the mercy of God, have my 
 health renewed. And should it be his will to bestow 
 the blessing, unto him shall all the praise and glory 
 be given. Unto him now my ardent thanks ascend, 
 for what he already has done ; and it is my earnest 
 desire that he would raise me to great usefulness, as 
 well as health. O how I long to make him some suit- 
 able returns for the past favours, and many, many 
 blessings he has conferred on unworthy me ! I hope 
 
JOT AND GRIEF. 27 7 
 
 that his grace will enable me so to do. But enough 
 on this subject, or I shall tire you with too much of 
 self. 
 
 And now give me leave to ask how you have spent 
 
 your time since your new residence at H ? When 
 
 you write, do not omit to give me some particulars of 
 it. I have often thought of you, and the rest of your 
 good family, who are all my valued friends. William 
 J , I hope, is successful in his ministerial func- 
 tions ; the Lord I hope will prosper his worthy labours, 
 and give him an abundant harvest, I doubt not but 
 he will be faithful to his flock, for 1 believe him to be 
 truly godly and orthodox in his views of the gospel. 
 Because he is of a different denomination from myselfj 
 I am not prejudiced, and suppose he cannot be a chris- 
 tian ; no, I believe him to be a sincere one. and as such, 
 I love and revere him. No matter of what name and 
 sect persons are so; long as they only bear the image 
 of Jesus on their hearts, 1 love them, and believe they 
 will get to heaven as well as those of my own views 
 If we differ in small things, I trust we do not in the 
 grand essential points. It is, notwithstanding, very 
 desirable that we should choose that way which comes 
 nearest to the word of God ; if we do not, we do our- 
 selves injustice, and dishonour the Lord. W. J 
 
 I am sensible, has done this, from conversations I have 
 had with him ; there are few more conscientious than 
 him, or as much so ; and few in every way as amiable 
 and excellent. He has made a wise choice in a wife ; 
 he could not have chosen one more suitable in every 
 respect to make a man happy. She is every way qua- 
 lified for the marriage state, for the circle they move 
 in, and a minister's wife; she is both an honour to 
 him and an ornament to society ; and what is most 
 
 2 A. 
 
17S A MEDLEY OF 
 
 excellent, a bright lamp in the church. I think we 
 may say of them, that they are one of the happy 
 matches that Dr. Watts speaks of — and are likely to 
 continue so ; and not like some who after two or three 
 years of foolish fondness, fall into a cold indifference 
 of each other. They are both sterling characters — 
 characters that will wear, and not easily change — 
 there is a reciprocity of feeling, and that is governed 
 by substantial well grounded principles, which are not 
 likely ever to be eradicated. 
 
 How truly necessary it is, my dear girl, that the 
 Ministers of God should choose a partner for life of 
 the daughters of Zion, and not of Belial — and be 
 very careful too, of making a prudent choice even 
 among them ; for it is not every pious female that is 
 qualified for so important a station. The faithful am- 
 bassadors of Christ are placed in the most critical and 
 trying state of any men, and therefore it is requisite 
 that they should have wives who not only fear the 
 Lord, but who in all respects are calculated to fill such 
 an office. There are many valuable qualifications 
 which it is really r\ecessary a woman should possess in 
 such a station ; faith, humility, patience, and perse- 
 verance are very, very important graces — also strength 
 of mind, firmness of character, evenness of temper, a 
 concern for God's glory, her husband's honour, her 
 children's deportment and education, self-denial, and 
 sensibility ; without the latter a woman is ill fitted to 
 soothe and mollify the sorrows of her husband under 
 trouble ; and when a man is in trouble, he needs at 
 that time more than any to feel the good and value of 
 a wife — and nothing endears a woman so much to her 
 husband as her evincing a tender regard for his feel- 
 ings, and participating with him when in affliction and- 
 
10Y AND GRIEF. 
 
 adversity. Many a brutish man has been for a time 
 softened down beneath extremities, by the kind sym- 
 pathies of a wife. There was a time once when I 
 thought, that if ever I entered the married state, I 
 hoped that providence would elect for my lot one of 
 his faithful servants in the ministry y but how little I 
 knew then of the vast importance of such a situation. 
 I should now think myself ill calculated indeed to take 
 such a step— there is a great duty devolving on the 
 part of ministers' wives ; a duty that I am certain I 
 am not qualified to fulfil. 
 
 When do you think, my dear E— , of returning to 
 the bosom of your friends? you will leave some of the 
 dearest of them behind. I was going to say I hearti- 
 ly wish you could bring them with you. I do for a 
 time— but to wish their removal here would be selfish, 
 and not right, since providence has marked their lines 
 
 at H ; and no doubt their sphere of usefulness 
 
 is most needed there, or they would not haveleen so 
 directed. It would be sinful to wish a thing that might 
 be repugnant to the divine will, therefore let us sub- 
 mit; for the Lord's ways and views far transcend 
 
 ours. 
 
 I shall be looking for you in April, that is the time 
 your mamma fixed to return. With what pleasure I 
 anticipate the meeting— many things have transpired 
 since we parted which will afford matter for conversa- 
 tion for many a leisure hour. I could say many more 
 things to you with the pen, but I will forbear this time, 
 for I am sure your patience must be exhausted with 
 this tedious scrawl. 
 
 Please to tender my best love to your good mother, 
 
 and W , accept the same yourself— and 
 
 may every blessing attend my dear young friend 
 
280 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 through life ; and after death my prayer is, that yoa 
 may shine a bright star in the Saviour's diadem. — I 
 am yours in the sincere ties of affection, 
 
 Eliza, 
 
 PRAISE FOR RETURNING HEALTH 
 
 Sabbath Evening, April, 1822. 
 
 The prayers of the faithful have not been in vain, 
 Emmanuel once more in my favour appears ; 
 
 New eulogies now shall arise to his name 
 
 Though slowly yet kindly my health he repairs. 
 
 *Tis good, O my Saviour, with meekness to wait? 
 
 And leave our petitions before thy dear feet ; 
 To patiently bear thy long silence and frowns, 
 
 And* each disappointment submissively meet. 
 
 The hand of sovereign mercy refused ne'er to save, 
 The ear of heavenly pity has never been deaf ; 
 
 It noticed my groans and my num'rous complaints^ 
 A celestial hand is now bringing relief. 
 
 Oh Jesus, for goodness so marv'lous and great ; 
 
 My bosom swells high and with gratitude burns. 
 My heart is o'erwhelmed with wonder and love, 
 
 For oh, the great blessing unmerited comes. 
 
 Rise, rise my glad soul, on thy loftiest notes, 
 And reach his blessed throne this sacred even 5 
 
 Awake, my choice songs, and run echoing round 
 The wide arched roof of the empyrean heaven 
 
'JOY AND GRIEF. 1 281 
 
 O may the same arm that sustained'my woes, 
 And bore up my soul in a dark evil hour, 
 
 Now bear up my praises and help me to give 
 To his glorious service my every power. 
 
 Almighty Physician ! my healer and God! 
 
 Go onto be gracious and make my frame whole; ] 
 To thee Ebenezers I'll daily erect, 
 
 And sonnets of praise shall arise from my soul. 
 
 A PARAPHRASE ON ROBIN ADAIR— MOURNING THE 
 LOST JOYS OF SALVATION. 
 
 May, 1816, 
 
 What's life or wealth to me ? 
 
 God is not near; 
 What wish I now to see ? 
 
 What wish to hear? 
 Where's all the joy and peace 
 Made this earth a paradise ? 
 Oh they're all fled with thee, 
 
 Jesus my fair. 
 
 What made the Sabbath sweet ? 
 
 Jesus drew near ! 
 What made communion sweet? 
 
 Jesus was there! 
 What when the day was o'er, 
 Made my heart rejoice the more ? 
 Oh it was thinking of 
 
 Jesus so fair. 
 
 2 A 2 
 
262 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 What made the word sublime I 
 
 Christ gave the ear: 
 Who made affliction shine ? 
 
 Jesus, bright star ! 
 Who made the tempest still, 
 When the waters high did swell ? 
 Oh sure it was the hand 
 
 Of Jesus dear* 
 
 Who made me brave the storm 
 
 When foes did sneer ? 
 Who did my terrors calm, 
 
 When harm was near? 
 Who sooth'd and soften'd cares, 
 Dried my tears, and quelled my fears. 
 And made affliction sweet ? 
 
 'Twas Jesus dear. 
 
 Who made me once so glad ? 
 
 My Saviour dear ! 
 What makes my heart now sad f 
 
 Christ is not near ! 
 Why did he take his flight, 
 And my day turn into night? 
 But O the fault is mine, 
 
 He is not here. 
 
 Jesus why didst thou flee 
 
 From me so far ? 
 Oh I've offended thee, 
 
 My Shepherd fair! 
 But canst thou me forgive, 
 Bid me rise again and liver 
 For oh still 1 love thee, 
 
 Tho' wand'red far. 
 
JOY AND GR1EJ 283 
 
 I hate the sins that drove 
 
 My God afar ; 
 And mourn my luke warm love, 
 
 Jehovah, Jah ! 
 Leap o'er my sins and come, 
 Skip o'er the hills — pray thee run. 
 And come to my relief, 
 
 Come Jesus dear. 
 
 Tho' I have stray'd from thee, 
 
 Still I adore ; 
 See there's deep grief in me, 
 
 Dear Saviour, dear ! 
 Yes I am sorely pain'd, 
 For I've griev'd my dearest friend ; 
 Oh I have wounded thee, 
 
 Fairest of the fair. 
 
 But now in my distress 
 
 Jesus appear ! 
 Descend — forgive and bless; 
 
 Redeemer dear ! 
 Once more renew thy grace, 
 Wear, oh wear a smiling face. 
 And my sad spirit cheer, 
 
 Dear Jesus, dear. 
 
 1 walk in darkness now, 
 
 Christ is not here ; 
 And oft in secret shed 
 
 A mournful tear. 
 Alas ! how chang'd the scene, 
 Since I have so wand'ring been. 
 So cold and senseless grown 
 
 To Jesus dear. 
 
284 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Great Shepherd of the sheep, 
 
 If I'm thy care, 
 Preserve my lubric feet, 
 
 From rambling more : 
 Far, far from thee I've gone. 
 Bring me to the fold again, 
 And let me never rove, 
 
 Ah never more. 
 
 TO DR. P. W. , LATE PROFESSOR OF COLUMBIA 
 
 COLLEGE. 
 
 Thou man of God, in thee I think I find 
 Something like Paul, in faith and strength of mind ; 
 With zeal and learning thou canst well defend 
 Those glorious truths, on which our hopes depend. 
 
 Though thou hast seen thy brightest days on earth, 
 Yet we can see thy greatness, mind, and worth ; 
 The zenith of thy strength thou now hast past, 
 And thou for glory now art ripening fast. 
 
 My honoured friend, now far advanced in years, 
 Who canst not long endure this vale of tears; 
 A few more fleeting days and thou shalt rise 
 To taste the purer bliss of paradise. 
 
 Then shalt thou in thy Father's kingdom shine 
 Bright as the sun, and taste of joys divine; 
 A glorious crown shall be thy rich reward 
 Forfighting valiant in the cause of God. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 286 
 
 Thy friends will then a serious loss sustain, 
 But, blessed thought, their loss will be thy gain j 
 The church will have to weep a pillar gone, 
 The poor and sick thy absence oft must mourn. 
 
 But go not yet thou faithful man of God, 
 Stay longer — stay and yet translate the word : 
 O stay and still forZion's cause contend, 
 Mark well her bulwarks, and her truths defend. 
 
 But O the temple shakes through time's rough hand. 
 And signifies it hath not long to stand ; 
 Yet he who built it can prop up the wall, 
 For some years longer ere it takes its fall. 
 
 O thou great Architect of nature's frame, 
 Support it longer that it may remain, 
 To beautify thy earthly courts below, 
 Adorn the gates and fill the elder's row. 
 
 I'll pray that heaven may lengthen out thy life, 
 To bless thy friends, thy children and thy wife ; 
 It cant be long though — threescore years and ten 
 Thou hast of sorrows in this valley seen. 
 
 'Tis perhaps unkind in me to wish thy stay 
 So long protracted in this house of clay ; 
 For if to fourscore years thou shouldst arrive, 
 'T would be, alas! but pain and toil to live. 
 
 Then I'll be silent till the hour appears 
 For this bright son of faith to cease from tears ; 
 And when he's called to pass through death'scold flood. 
 O may he find a heavenly peace with God, 
 
286 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Guide him, OLord, O guide him safely through. 
 Until the heavenly Canaan's full in view, 
 And then with joy receive the promised rest, 
 To be with Jesus and for ever biest. 
 
 While saints shall greet him with a holy kiss, 
 And Jesus welcome him to endless bliss, 
 Friends here will mourn — my heart will feel a gloom. 
 And join to weep his praises round his tomb. 
 
 My honoured friend, my thanks are due to thee, 
 For all those favours thou hast shown to me ; 
 Accept these lines, if thou canst them approve. 
 As a small tribute of my grateful love. 
 
 to jane c 
 
 Have you lost a much loved father r 
 Are you severed from a friend? 
 
 You have still a living mother 
 Who will all your wants attend, 
 
 When you need maternal soothings, 
 And a sister's tender care, 
 
 You've a mother and a sister 
 Who will in your feelings share. 
 
 Do you mourn a tender parent, 
 And would call him back again ? 
 
 Cease to wish so, and remember 
 Your sad loss is his great gain. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. i87 
 
 He is t'ree'd from sin and sorrow 
 And is gone to endlesss rest ; 
 
 And ere long my friend will follow 
 Her honoured sire and be blest. 
 
 cease to weep then, cease to sigh 
 Yet those tears become you well : 
 
 Should a child part with a parent 
 And no grief her bosom swell ? 
 
 None methinks, Jane but the stoic, 
 Whose cold heart is made of steel, 
 
 Could refrain from tears of sorrow, 
 But th' sensitive soul must feel. 
 
 Yes, those tears do well become you. 
 
 Let your sighs to Christ ascend ; 
 But beware of sinful sorrow, 
 
 That you may not God offend. 
 
 Let this thought now be your comfort- 
 Your father was prepared to go ; 
 
 And above now shines more brilliant 
 Than the brightest gem below. 
 
 1 would wipe your tears of sorrow 
 
 I would ease your aching heart ; 
 But it is not in my power — 
 Christ alone can heal the smart. 
 
 I would hasten to the chamber 
 
 Where you vent your pungent grief. 
 
 And would do my best endeavour 
 To afford some small relief. 
 
283 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 But, dear friend, some things forbid it 
 Reasons now I can't explain ; 
 
 But accept these humble verses, 
 Which will prove I think of Jane v 
 
 May the Saviour soothe your sorrow, 
 And direct your thoughts above ; 
 
 There, ah ! there you'll find a solace 
 In his sympathizing love. 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO MARY S— , AGED NINE MONTHS 
 ON LEAVING HER. 
 
 1821. 
 
 Sweet Mary, your parents for you 
 Oft lift up their voices in prayer, 
 
 For 3'ou are their joy and their hope. 
 Their anxious and constant great care 
 
 When you shall have come to an age 
 To understand evil and good, 
 
 Be wise and make choice of the path 
 That leads to the mansion of God. 
 
 Let not the fair things of this world 
 Allure and entice vou to sin : 
 
 For oh! the vain pleasures of life 
 
 Great trouble and sorrows will bring. 
 
 But, seek the religion of Christ, 
 That only true pleasure can give 
 
 And in the invisible world 
 Prepare you with Jesus to live/ 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 289 
 
 Your parents are Zion-ward bound, 
 
 Their names are inscribed on the list 
 With those who now follow the Lamb. 
 And seek in his bosom a rest, 
 
 A few fleeting years at the most, 
 Will snatch them from Mary away, 
 
 And land them on Canaan's blest coast, 
 With Jesus for ever to stay. 
 
 Oh ! would you nol wish to ascend, 
 
 To meet them at Jesus's feet; 
 And join them to worship the Lamb, 
 
 For ever his praises repeat. 
 
 Then lovely, engaging, sweet child ! 
 
 On earth let your praises begin, 
 Or else you will never arise 
 
 With parents nor angels to sing. 
 
 Oh ! may you in childhood be taught, 
 By grace, in God's footsteps to tread, 
 
 And emulate Jesus's work, 
 Who to heav'n the holy way led. 
 
 Then shall you in youth and old age 
 
 Be happy, be kept, and be blest ; 
 Then fall asleep calmly in death, 
 
 And enter the promised rest. 
 
 Accept of this primer and learn, 
 
 As soon as you're taught how to read, 
 
 To sing the Redeemer's great praise, 
 Who did for poor sinners once bleed. 
 2 B 
 
290 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 May God bless your parents and you. 
 Teach Richard from danger to flee ; 
 
 And give them a tenfold reward 
 For all their great kindness to me. 
 
 And now, darling baby, I go ! 
 
 May Jesus be gracious to you, 
 Propitiously smile on your soul, 
 
 Is the prayer of Eliza — x\dieu ! 
 
 COMPLAINT AND PRAYER UNDER DARKNESS OF MIND 
 
 AND PAIN. 
 
 Greenwich Village, April 11th, 1815. 
 
 Must I still solitary sit 
 
 And heave the pensive sigh ? 
 Must the poor worm in fruitless groans 
 
 Breathe out her life and die ? 
 
 Behold, Oh Lord ! my grievous state. 
 
 My sad condition see ; 
 Pity my mournful case, and send 
 
 Some friendly aid to me. 
 
 Still will my God withhold his grace. 
 
 And leave my soul forlorn ? 
 Will he keep back a smiling face, 
 
 How long, Oh Lord ! how long f 
 
 Leap o'er the horrid hills of sin, 
 
 Which fore'd thee to depart ; 
 Skip o'er my follies, Lord, and come 
 
 And heal my bleeding heart. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 291 
 
 Haste from thy shining courts above, 
 
 Or send some kind relief, 
 Lest the o'er burdened heart should break 
 
 With penitential grief. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 Physicians kindly try to aid 
 
 And solve my strange disease ; 
 Their skill and med'cine prove all vain, 
 
 And leave the sufPrer worse. 
 
 This med'cine vanquishes my frame, 
 
 My spirits overcome ; 
 The mind and body sympathize, 
 
 And gives my soul to gloom. 
 
 I cannot raise a thought on high, 
 
 Disorder drags me down. 
 And holds me grov'ling in the clods, 
 
 And leaves the wretch to mourn. 
 
 MIRANDA'S FAVOURITE ROSE. 
 
 How vain to hope, and vain to wish 
 To want yon beauteous rose, 
 
 Although it seems to smile on me 
 It for another blows : 
 
 Yet Oh ! I long to pluck it c#, 
 
 And place it in my breast ; 
 Ann claims the sprig, but ah I methinkg, 
 
 It suits this bosom best. 
 
292 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Could I procure the lovely bush, 
 
 And truly call it mine, 
 I'd wipe my tears, and be content. 
 
 And never more repine. 
 
 I'm doom'd to see its elegance, 
 Its growing charms each time 
 
 Attract my admiration more, 
 But cannot call it mine. 
 
 When from my window I behold 
 
 Its fair and graceful form, 
 I long to have it taken up 
 
 And to my garden borne. 
 
 But Anna's mark'd it for her own. 
 
 By both is this confess'd, 
 And soon, alas ! she'll seize the gem. 
 
 And take it to her breast. 
 
 And am I bound to view its charms, 
 
 And not possess the tree ? 
 Ah ! my sad heart, and weeping eyes ? 
 
 That joy is not for thee, 
 
 O ! well, this pleasure shall be mine. 
 
 While I retain a pow'r, 
 And a pulsation my heart feels, 
 
 To think on yon sweet flow' r. 
 
 Sweet rose, till Ann shall call thee her's- 
 1*11 gaze upon thy charms ; 
 
 And should she ever thee forsake, 
 I'll take thee to my arms. 
 
JOY AiND GRIEF. 293 
 
 THE ROSE FLED. 
 
 When last I roved gay Flora's shades, 
 
 There grew a lovely flower, 
 ^nd I remember well it stood 
 By yonder fragrant bower. 
 
 But where, ah ! whither has it fled, 
 
 Who has removed the tree ? 
 Has Anna stroiled this flow'ry way, 
 
 And stole the gem from me ? 
 
 Or has some foul destructive foe 
 
 Passed by the rosy bower ? 
 Given the root a deadly blow, 
 
 And left it then to wither ? 
 
 Ah ! hapless me, the tree is gone. 
 
 Nor left a single leaf, 
 To grace the bed where once it bloomed, 
 
 Of all the flowers the chief. 
 
 Ye sumptuous lawns, O tell me where 
 
 Is that fair graceful rose; 
 Which blossomed long amidst your train, 
 
 Queen of the smiling groves. 
 
 Oh ! say and did my fair rose fade, 
 
 And wither, droop, and die ? 
 Or was it to some clime conveyed, 
 
 To meet no more my eye ? 
 
294 A MEDLEY OF 
 
 Must I no more behold its charms., 
 
 Nor gaze on it again ? 
 Nor see it smile no more on me, 
 
 Nor shine in Flora's train ? 
 
 Ah no ! no more my blushing rose 
 Its beauties here will shed ; 
 
 ? Tis dead, or gone to some strange soil 
 To show its gorgeous head. 
 
 Perhaps these sad eyes may behold 
 My favourite rose no more, 
 
 Until I see it bloom anew 
 On a more fertile shore. 
 
 Alas ! and since my rose has fled, 
 No more I'll ramble here ; 
 
 Though once this garden, my delight, 
 To me is no more dear. 
 
 Yet, when I pass this well known spot. 
 Where my rosette once bloom'd, 
 
 I'll glance my mourning eye as though 
 The gem was here entomb'd. 
 
 Farewell ! ye once enchanting scene, 
 Which did my heart beguile ; 
 
 But now your vestal charms no more 
 Can draw from me a smile. 
 
 Since she the brightest of your train 
 
 Is wither'd or has gone, 
 I'll bid your embroider'd walks adieu, 
 
 And for my ruby mourn. 
 
JOY AND GRIEF. 2S>& 
 
 TO ANNA MATILDA 
 
 May, 1816. 
 
 Dear Anna Matilda, this message I send, 
 
 If you have not forgott'n your old faithful friend ; . 
 
 Then haste to the mansion that holds her frail clay, 
 
 A languishing pris'ner by night and by day. 
 
 O ! what shall I say to allure and invite . ? 
 
 Shall I tell you the country looks pleasant and bright? 
 
 Obtrusive stern winter and Boreas have fled, 
 
 And spring, verdant spring all her beauties now shed; 
 
 All nature looks happy, ail smiling and gay, 
 
 Cheer d by the presence of the great King of day, 
 
 The birds sweetly sing and the sprightly la.nbs play, 
 
 The fields are well cover'd, all dress'd in rich green; 
 
 The hill that was lately so bare to be seen, 
 
 Is crown'd with variety, blooming and young, 
 
 And promises fair a rich harvest to come. 
 
 The trees all their blossoms spread open and fair, 
 
 And send forth an odour that sweetens the air. 
 
 The bright op'ning flowers in colours all gay, 
 
 Their splendour and beauty begin to display. 
 
 How sweet and delightful a fragrance they yield, 
 
 From the neighbouring gardens, the greenhouse and 
 
 field, 
 While the robin and linnet in soft gentle lays, 
 Pour forth their sweet notes to Emmanuel's praise. 
 
 I would, dear Matilda, enlarge on this theme, 
 And portray a far more magnificent scene, 
 
296 A MEDLEY, &c. 
 
 To excite you to leave the confusion of York, 
 And enjoy the balm air of a country walk. 
 I feel so inclin'd, but O must refuse ! 
 Disorder with violence crushes the muse. 
 At this invitation come an hour to spend, 
 To converse with your valetudinarian friend. 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 Answer to Mrs. M. Jackson's Question 5 
 
 A Retrospect of past and present Mercies 10 
 
 To Edward H , aged three years 24 
 
 Lines composed in a sleepless hour of night, whilst reflecting on 
 
 the madness and inconsistency of Atheism 27 
 
 Meditation on 
 
 A Dialogue between Mr. Melmoth and his Daughter .... 35 
 
 Meditation on the fourteenth Chapter of John 48 
 
 Meditation—A Walk to Mount Olivet on a Summer's Eve . . 59 
 
 To Agnes H S , aged two years & 
 
 Longing for the Millennium , g2 
 
 A Fragment g4 
 
 Complaint, &c. under pain and trouble 90 
 
 Complaint under great pain, and darkness of mind .... 92 
 
 On the death of Mrs. Wilkinson 93 
 
 All is vanity but the Creator 9 - 
 
 Complaining of hardness of heart ..... 96 
 
 Bewailing idolatry ; or the effects of too deep love to the crea- 
 
 / ture 97 
 
 Mourning the absence of God ]09 
 
 Complaint under the hidings of God's face ... 1 14 
 
 Hope and Fear .... 
 
 The Happy Change ......... ' !*? 
 
 Praise and acknowledgments of God's goodness . . . 124 
 
 To Rosamond, on her departure for England . V> 5 
 
 Transcript of a Letter to Mrs. H. G . 
 
 Transcript of a Letter to Mrs. M. W 
 
 Loiter to Miss M. R y ' 
 
 To George W. B. aged four months . . . . ' .' .' ' j?? 
 
 A F r agment 
 
 Exercises of Heart, &c. . . \ ' ' ??? 
 
 Reflections, fac. . ' ' " . 
 
 Letter to the Rev. Mr. M j° 8 
 
 Letter to a Friend \tl 
 
 On recovering the use of my limbs and better healih 181 
 
 2 C 
 
298 INDEX. 
 
 page 
 
 To Mr. A. M. Minister of the Gospel 183 
 
 Grateful exercises of mind 186 
 
 Letter to a Friend 189 
 
 Lines written on receiving a favour from an absent friend . . 196 
 
 Meditation 197 
 
 Longing for immortal joys 200 
 
 Extracts from my Journal 202 
 
 Letter to a friend on the eve of marriage 210 
 
 On the death of my father 217 
 
 Reflections on the same 221 
 
 A reflection on the mercy of God in restoring to me the lost 
 
 joys of Salvation 225 
 
 Meditation 22 7 
 
 Meditation ^^ 
 
 To James H , sen'r 257 
 
 Letter to a friend 259 
 
 To Caroline Frances M , aged four months . . . . 265 
 
 Reflections on the prospect of very soon losing a friend . . 267 
 
 On hearing of the death of Mr. John Withington 270 
 
 To Anna Matilda S , aged eleven years 272 
 
 To Edward , on going to sea 273 
 
 Letter to Miss Eliza B 274 
 
 Praise for returning health 280 
 
 A Paraphrase on Robin Adair— mourning the lost joys of Sal- 
 
 vation •"" 
 
 To Dr. P. W , late Professor in Columbia College . . . 284 
 
 To Jane C 286 
 
 Lines addressed to Mary S , aged nine Months, on leaving 
 
 her 288 
 
 Complaint and prayer under darkness of mind and pain . . 290 
 
 Miranda's favourite Rose 291 
 
 The Rose Fled Ill 
 
 To Anna Matilda 29S 
 
itcconuucuttattous* 
 
 The Manual thus offered to the public by a Lady, though 
 it will not bear the severe scrutiny of critical acumen, is 
 the effusion of a spirit of ardent piety, and exercised in 
 divine things. It is of course calculated to warm the 
 heart, and to excite similar feelings in the reader. It may 
 therefore be profitably employed to consecrate the mo- 
 ments of leisure to the purposes of devotion, and to with- 
 draw the mind from levity or listlessness, to the service 
 f>f the living God. 
 
 New-York, May 9, 1822. 
 
 The above recommendation is signed by 
 
 PETER WILSON, L.L.D. 
 Rev. JOHN STANFORD, A. M. 
 Rev. ARCHIBALD MACLAY, 
 Rev. JOHN WILLIAMS, 
 Rev. JOHN KNOX, 
 WILLIAM HAMERSLEY, M. B. 
 
iHftftSX 0F CONGRESS 
 
 028 068 158 1