And do you thus believe?" addressing each;
"I do believe that Jesus is the Lord,
And would obey all his apostles teach;
My hopes of pardon centres in his word."
By his authority whom you confess,
"You are immersed into the name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost;
And of the water and the spirit born,
The name of Jesus is their joyful boast.
Oh, praise the Lord! exalted be his name!
Who thus ennobles, thus exalts our race,
Let each disciple celebrate his fame,
Let each adore the mystery of his grace.
And you, who dare assert such, disbelieve,
When they thus publicly their faith confess,
Show us such proofs that you the word receive,*
And we 'll not doubt Jehovah's power to bless,
But will acknowledge you co-heirs with Him,
Whose word omnific, Heaven's blue curtains wrought,
Who fixed yon shining orbit 'midst the spheres,
And out of nothing, earth's fair fabric brought.
And you, with us shall taste a Savior's love,
And with us, too, assemble 'round his board;
With us anticipate the joys above,
Where he more perfectly shall be adored :
And as you journey through life's devious maze,
Where joys alternately, and sorrows rise,
Each eve will bring fresh causes for his praise,
Each rising morn a thankful sacrifice;
When death approaches with his dreaded train,
And nature sinks, and earthly hopes expire,
His presence shall your feeble souls sustain,
His word impart the aid you then require;
And when the great Arch Angel's trump shall sound,
And from their long repose the dead arise,
Your quickened dust shall burst the gloom profound,
With glory decked, and filled with glad surprise;
And join the faithful who on earth remain,
When Zion's king these lofty skies shall rend,
With them the heights of glory to attain,
And endless ages in his presence spend.
* As many as received the word were baptised.-Acts of the Apostles.
These prospects cheer with a pure fadeless ray,
The Christian Pilgrim's humble, happy breast,
More than magnetic influence speeds their way,
And on they hasten to eternal rest.
But you, my son, do not these things despise,
Nor do you doubt the goodness of the Lord;
Then show me where the weighty hindrance lies,
That keeps you from submitting to his word?
This day completes my eight-and-fortieth year;
And as I retrospect the years that 's fled,
My youthful days devoted to his fear,
Afford me solace though their joys have fled;
And though I have much reason to lament
That I've been so unfaithful to his grace,
Yet I'm his servant, and his word declares,
That such as serve Him shall behold his face.
Soon will these scribbling fingers cease to move,
These thinking powers their energies resign;
Accept this small memorial of my love,
Perhaps the last that you 'll receive of mine.
"Thou for each squandered hour must give account! And squandered minutes serve to increase their amount,— Then prithee, hearken, and of wisdom learn ;
And time's improvement make thy grand concern,"
Lest thou, like one of yore, be found too light,
When in the balance weighed, and sink in night.
Tell me! Oh tell me, ghost of murdered hours,
Why thus my quiet, peaceful hours molest?
Why haunt my foot-steps with intrusive powers?
Why force reflection on my careless breast?
"T is true, of hours is formed the term assigned
To me, immortal life to lose, or gain;
But I've long ago made up my mind
This most important blessing to obtain.
Yes, when the buoyancy of youth is fled,
Thy squandered benefits I will redeem,
And o'er life's path a brilliant lustre shed,
For sacred wisdom shall be all my theme.
Or should life's term not thus protracted be,
Should sickness seize, death throw his well poised dart,
I will lament that I have squandered thee,
So ghost of murdered hours from me depart.
Not long ago a youth our circle graced,
Who ne'er to sacred wisdom was inclined,
Who on the Savior's word no credence placed,
But worldly pleasures quite engrossed his mind;
When called these interesting scenes to leave,
And to consumption's power his health resign,
Never appeared at all inclined to grieve,
But still with folly's votaries would join ;
When those who loved him, (for he was beloved)
Saw on his pallid cheek the hectic glow,
Presaging he from earth would be removed,
They feared the least disquietude to show;
Yet, when the dreaded messenger drew nigh,
No ghost of murdered hours haunted his breast;
Because he must, he was resigned to die,
And quickly pass to perfect happiness.
And sure he now inherits perfect bliss,
For the good rector thanked his gracious God,
Who called his servant from a world like this,
And prayed devoutly equal grace be showed
To others, 'till the highly favored, the elect,
Should all be called his glorious face to see,
And in his prayers an interest I expect ;
So ghost of murdered hours, depart from me.
How my soul sickens when fanatics say
The mighty Lord, all-powerful to save,
Without, expects men should his laws obey,
If they would rise triumphant from the grave,
And join the general anthem of the skies;
With energetic zeal I these oppose,
For I this doctrine heartily despise,
As all my conduct evidently shows.
Admit their statements, and my hopes are vain,
For I to these requirements will not bend;
But am determined, still with folly's train,
My youthful days in merriment to spend;
And then at last receive immortal bliss!
A monument of sovereign grace alone;
Oh, what a theme for angel harps were this,
That God, a worthless sinner thus should own:
And me reward as those who did him serve;
His son acknowledged, and confessed his name,
Who gave themselves to Him without reserve,
And for his sake endured reproach and shame.
'T is true, there's not a promise in God's holy word,
For such as wilfully his laws reject;
But there are those by far more wise than me,
Who heed them not, yet endless life expect.
Then tell! oh tell me, ghost of murdered hours,
Why thus annoy me, thus disturb my rest?
Why haunt my footsteps with intrusive powers?
Why force reflection on my careless heart?
CONVERSION OF JUSTIN MARTYN.
Justin one day was walking down by the sea shore,
Of Plato's famed doctrines, was thus pondering o'er;
How richly sublime were the maxims he taught,
And with pure enjoyments his precepts are fraught.
Not long he thus mused, when a sage* passed that way,
No wisdom 's like Plato's the strippling did say;
Ere Plato existed, the old man replied,
Some persons called patriarchs, and prophets, descried
Light from the pure Logos, which brought to their view,
Enjoyments of wisdom, which Plato ne'er knew.
Examine their writings, and pray for true light,
If you would be led in the paths that are right;
* Supposed to be Polycarp.
In language most feeling the sage did portray
The rich Gospel blessings, then went on his way.
Justin saw him no more, but labored to find
That light which now shed its pure rays o'er his mind,
And owned what Socrates, or Plato had taught,
Was ne'er with such reason, and philosophy fraught;
And an able, bold champion for christianity became,
And enrolled among martyrs we see Justin's name.
"FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT
HE GAVE HIS SON."
"So he drove out the man, and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden, cherubims, and a flaming sword, which turned every way to keep the way of the tree of life."
Cherubims, and a flaming sword, obstruct the way to heavenly bliss ;
Lo! every way it turns, to keep poor helpless man from happiness.
No angel power can it remove, nor all the tribes of Adam slain
Rivers, yea, seas might flow with blood, that blood be spilt, and flow in vain.
What can redeem our helpless race? can angel minds a plan devise?
In pondering lost, no plan appears to raise a rebel to the
Behold the Son of God descend! He takes our curse, He bears our load;
See Him extended on the tree! He seals our pardon with his blood!
Behold earth to its centre quake, rocks rend, the sun forbear to shine!
A heathen strike his breast, convinced the illustrious sufferer is divine!
Not so, the unrelenting Jews; they to the Governor repair, Saying, "Sir, this great deceiver said, no tomb should keep
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