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No. V.
A miracle when seen our faith may move,
But what a not-seen miracle can prove ;
What but the high design, well understood,
nd the united faith of all the good.

No. VI.
All men in Adam's guiltiness appear,
However dark the mode, the fact is clear.

No. VII.
The triune God, to human faith displayed
Upon the sacred page, has light and shade;
Dark is the draught of each interior line,
Yet we can see each person is divine.
The practical, the manifested light
May strike the rudest shepherd's mental sight.

Of all the sacred teachers which recall
To mind the word of God, I honor Paul;
His zeal, his clearness, his consistent truth,
Shall lead my age, as it impressed my youth.

No. IX.
Yes, all the real saints shall persevere,
Because of falling they have constant fear.

No. X. The power of meekness, who can ever show, And who, but he that deeply feels it, know?

No. XI. The humble mind, though smitten by the rod, Is the abode of a descending God.

No. XII. Christ died for all — his righteousness is free; He died for all, and if for all, for me.

One sin alone can plunge in endless grief;
A comprehensive sin 'tis unbelief.

No. XIV.
How will my reasoning to my heart apply,
In that dread moment when I come to die?

How will the products of my tongue, or pen,
My words, my purposes, impress me then ?

No. XV.
Whate'er by others done I should condemn,
Let me not think to do the same by them;
Let me perform, with purpose large and free,
Whatever I approve when done to me.

No. XVI.
If duty you regard, the fountain free
From which it flows is God's first love to thee;
And the same feeling in thy heart should spring
To thy Creator, Governor, and King.
Another precept must our minds imbue,
That loving God, we love our neighbor too.

Let not thy heart by anger e'er be riven;
Forgive thy foe, and be by God forgiven.

A change of will our God can never know,
And yet he wills a change in things below.
His purposes as fixed as fate appear,
And yet for prayer he has an open ear.
Events he changes with a boundless range,
Because his inmost counsels never change.

No. XIX.
The Bible is the oldest book — 'tis true;
And yet the oldest book is always new.

No. XX.
Repentance and remorse are not the same;
That is a heavenly, this an earthly flame :
One springs from love, and is a welcome guest,
And one an iron tyrant o'er the breast.
Repentance weeps before the Crucified;
Remorse is nothing more than wounded pride.
Remorse through horror into hell is driven,
While true repentance always goes to heaven.

No. XXI.
Prayer makes us leave off sin ; and sin, though fair
It seems to promise, makes us leave off prayer.

The wisest sorrow our experience wins,
Is sorrowing for our trespasses and sins.

Meekness of wisdom !What a phrase divine !
O God of meekness, make the blessing mine.

When o'er our faults and miseries we groan,
The present moment never acts alone.

No. XXV.
By the same effort are our faults revealed,
Which most men take to make them more concealed.

Our grossest deeds concealed from man may be,
But thought itself, O God, is known to thee.

When Peter from his master's presence stept,
Pondering his crimes as bitterly he wept,
Though gloom and sorrow all his soul enclosed,
Had he the wretchedness that he supposed ?
His lonely weeping seems, to me at least,
Above the laughter of Belshazzar's feast.

When in obedience to your Saviour-king,
To the baptismal font your babe you bring ;
Who knows what benefits may there ensue ?
Each sprinkled drop may prove celestial dew;
And the wet forehead to your prayers impart
A future saint

a pure and contrite heart.

When the swift day through swifter hours has run,
And the red cloud o'erhangs the setting sun,
Let not thy conscience be compelled to see
That beauteous nature blushes then for thee;
Or, when the dews descend in drops divine,
That pitying planets weep o'er sins of thine;
Or, when the morn exalts her saffron head,
She sheds her radiance round a sluggard's bed,
And bids the world this lesson from thee reap,
That all thy innocence is in thy sleep.

1 James iii. 13.


No. XXX.
Sorrowing for sin my Christian course began,
Sorrowing for sin through all the progress ran;
Sorrowing for sin I hailed the morning light,
Sorrowing for sin I passed the wakeful night;
Sorrowing for sin restrained my youthful rage,
Sorrow for sin is habit in old age ;
And oh how sweetly do the moments move
When all this sorrow is the fruit of love !

Gain is not godliness; but it is plain
That — be content and godliness is gain.



The sum of gospel teaching should be this:
The woe of true repentance leads to bliss; .
That sin imparts its sickness to the soul,
And Christ, our great physician, makes us whole.



In bondage? Yes; but then, I feel no pain,
For I am fettered by a red-rose chain.

Old age, advancing on through slow decay
Is somewhat like the setting orb of day:
It has, though losing its meridian height,
A larger circle and a softer light.

Self-knowledge (by some lofty minds pursued),
Without religion does them little good.
Rousseau, to whom all winding hearts were known,
And who so skilfully portrayed his own,
In conduct and in life reversed each rule,
And sunk from wisdom to be more a fool.
The same conclusion every reader learns
From Goldsmith, Cicero, and Robert Burns.
Their knowledge was a light-house through the spray,

It shed faint light and led not to the way.
Vol. XXIV. No. 94.





Remember, ye that hither come to weep,
The wicked die; the pious only sleep.

No. XXXVII. Why is a terror so peculiar shed O'er human hearts conversing with the dead ? How can these mouldered hands such tumults weave ? Why do the disbelieving here believe ? And why, as if by heaven's judicial doom, Is no man atheist, leaning on a tomb?

Life must present a most contrasted page,
Foreseen in youth and when reviewed in age.
As some bright window ere the day is done,
Shines deeply crimsoned in the setting sun;
The mansion seems involved in streams of fire
All faces brighten and all eyes admire;
But as the sun withdraws his final ray,
The visionary splendors fade away;
And naught remains, these transient glories past,
But the cold night-fog or the whistling blast.

In this condition where afflictions roll,
Religion is an impulse of the soul,
'Tis closely grafted on chastised desire ;
Our wants impress it, even our sins inspire,
And sceptic reasoning is a vain employ,
Like reasoning down our agony or joy.

No. XL.
The best impressions, since we know in part,
Are made by forms proceeding from the heart.
The brightest ray that is to man allowed,
Is but a pencil quivering through a cloud.
The light is partial, but enough to guide,
In spite of worldly prudence, pelf, or pride.
When guilt depresses, when with ills we cope,
Without supreme conviction man may hope.

No. XLI.
Religion then, that calmer of our woes,
On two eternal pillars must repose;

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