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Engraved for the New Christian's Magazine •

From the ORATORIO of SAUL.
Composed by Mr Handel.


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tide of blood runs high , To God thy fu- ture life


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Published by Alex. Hogy, N. 16, Paternoster Row, London.

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Gentlemen, IF the underwritten lines merit a place in your very useful and edifying publication, entitled the New Christian's Magazine, by inserting them as soon as convenient, will lay under a great obligation, Your constant reader and admirer,

ADOLESCENS. Worcester, 41h O. 1783.

Before that God, whose piercing eye,

This curious frame survey’d; And in my embrio-state his skill, In

every part display'd. Thy boundless thought contriv'd the scheme,

And each proportion plann'd ;
Before the clay, my future frame,

Was fashioned by thy hand.
How Thall my tongue describe my souł,

Or paint the love I bear;
Or court the num'rous thanks I owe,

For thy surrounding care !
Less num'rous are the countless fands,

That twell the lengthen’d shore ;
And in the morning when I wake,

I find the nuinber more.
Search me, O God! with stricteft view,

Explore each secret part;
Know the recefles of my Youl,
And frailties of

my heart! If error clouds

my darken'à mind, Remove the dismal gloom; Conduct me with a Father's hand,

And bring thy fervant home.




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REAT Cod! thou guardian of each

hour, Thou guide of all my ways ; My morning itens confess thy pow'r,

And night proclaims thy praise.
The secret purpose of soul

Is to thy wisdom known;
Thine eye directs my walk by day,
And fees

my lying down. On ev'ry side I find thy hand,

Where'er I turn my view;
And, 'ere my lips could speak my heart,

Thou, Lord, my meaning knew.
Vainly to trace such wondrous love,

My grov'ling reason tries;
Fruitless attempt! my stricteít search,

Th' amazing subject flies.
Should hell infpire the blackened thought,

From thee my God to hide; Where should a helpless mortal go,

In secret to abide.

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If I to heav'n direct my course,

There thy full glories thine ;
And hell's dark prison feels thy arm,

And owns the wrath divine.
If with the mornings early light,

I seek the western sea;
There shall thine hand detect my flight,

And disappoint my stay.
If 'favour'd with the ev'ning shades,

I court tbe rayless night;
The gloom dispers'd, at thy command,

Shall yield me to thy light. Darkness and light, to thee the same,

Fulfil thy great design ; And suns, and thades, before their God,

With equal brightness thine,


Gentlemen, THE following elegant lives were copied from a monument in Bristol cathedral, erected to the memory of a pious young clergyman, who departed this life in the year 1773. The depositing them in your valuable work, will doubtless please your readers, and will much oblige,

Your most fincere well-wisher,
November 4, 1783.

HEN worthless grandeur fills the

embellish'd urn, No poignant grief attends the fable bier : But when distinguilli'd excellence we moura,

Deep is the sorrow, genvine's the tcar. Stranger, should it thou draw near this awful

thrine, The merits of the honour'd dead to seek : The Friend, the Son, the Christian, the

Let those who knew him, those who lov'd

him, fpcak. Oh! let them in some pause of anguish say, What zeal jinspir'd, what faith enlary'd

his breast; How soon th' unfetter'd spirit wing dits way, Froin eartk to heav'n, from blessing to be bleft.


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O king of terrors! how couldst thou de

stroy The widow's hope, and her dear childrens'

joy : Alas'he's gone, and like a spotless

dove, To increase the number of the blest above.

OPE sheds on all its genial ray,

Our clouded life it gilds ; It brightens cv'ry gloomy day,

In forms our castle builds.
It is a cordial to the breast

That feels distress and grief;
It rocks the troubled mind to rest,

And gives th' oppress’d relief.
It gilds the chambers of distress,

The captive's woes affuage!
It chears the widow, fatherless,,

And aids the tott’ring sage.
The Christian's friend in death's dread hour,

Difpels his fears away;
Prepares him by its soothing pow'r,
For everlasting day.

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APPY, highly favour'd maid,

From the noise of folly fled,
Like tlic silver-pinion'd dove,
To the land of peace and love.
Not a nyoment would't thou stay,
When thou heard'lt thy Saviour say,
" Rife, iny fair one, come away.”
Knowing, if thau didit repair
To holy folitude and pray’r,
He who call'd would meet thee there,
In retirement thou fhalt know
Joys religion can befiow.
She hall of them all partake,
Who could earthly joys forsake;
Youthful pleasures who could fly,
(Crackling thorns that blaze and dic;)
And in bloom of beauty thew'd
How to quit the world for Cod.
In the still sequefter'd hour
Gay delufions tempt no more.
Pride and envy soon are dead,
Wantonness and folly Hed.
In whose places we nay.

see The lovely grace

As at Bethle'm the was 'ípy'd, -
Waiting by the manger's lide :
Charity from heav'n descending,
Hand and heart to all extendinge
Innocence as noon, day bright,
All array'd in lily white :
Wisdom born and bred on high,
Guide of mortals to the sky,
Still, with sweet, tho' pensive look,
Musing on the mystic book.
All of these we feek in vain
In the busy hum of men.
They thun the mad fantastic croud,
Giddy, thoughtless, light, and loud.
In the mind preserv'd ledate,
Meek, and quiet, they are met:
And in bofoins, such as thine,
All with beams united thine.

Let the world in sucering tone
Ridicule and ceasure on,
'Till in men and angels fight
Death and judgment prove thee rights
And manifest to ev'ry heart,
Thou hast chose the better part.
Happy, highly favour'd maid,
From the noite of fully fled !


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C ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ.



O gends,


TAIL,' sweet content ! whose magie

pow'r, Can blunt misfortune's keenelt dart, And when black skies with tempest lour,

Serene and chearful guard the heart, All gracious, hither urge thy way,

And make my breast thy dearest cello My mind protect from dire dismay,

And round me spread thy potent spell. Instead of pride, which now consumes,

And wears my spirits by her cares,
At fancied Nights full idly fumes,

The victim of her peevis airs.
Good humour then still, blithe and free

Despising pomp and hating strife,
Shall crown with gay hilarity

The circling periods of my life. Instead of envy's baleful train,

That moun amidA fair plenty's store;
If heaven's funshine, or its rain,

Pour greater at a neighbour door:
Benevolence, with heart humane,

Wishing all happy as herself,
Shall then extract from thy rich mean,
Gold far inore precious than inere pelf.

S. P G.

Its maker and its king;
And owns thy goodness far transcends

The praises I can bring :
My scanty praises, Lord, how mean!

How despicably poor!
For all the gifts thy bounties bring,

And make my cup run o'er?
While many of thy dearest saints,

And better far than I,
Pour out their piteous fad complaints,

And pierce us with their cry!
While in their fouls ch' invenom'd darts

Of bitter anguith lie,
Or cruth'd by milery, their hearts

Groan their last galp and die;
Lord! what am I, my God, my King !

That I thy grace shou'd prove!
Should tune a cbearful note and fing

Thy prezidential love !
Lord what am I, or what are mine,

That thou so kind thouldst be ;
Shouldīt lavith all these gifts of thine,

On such a wretch as me!
O’er dimpling waves my little bark,

Thy gentle spirit bears,
Protects from adverse storms my heart,

And keeps my head from cares.
O! may this head to know thy will

Continually improve !
O may that heart be fervent still,

And flame with heav'nly love !
Thus gliding down life's gentle stream

May I advance to thee;
'Till safe I launch with heart serene,

On vast eternity.

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TO what sequester'd lone retreat,

Lov'd nymph, doit thou direct thy feet.
Far distant from the noisy crowd,
The great, the busy and the proud;
Dost thou reside in cavern boar,
With sages vers'd in myftic lore ?
Ah no!--The friend of God and man,
Far, far superior is thy plan;
"Tis thine to footh the widow's figh,
Tis thine the orphan's tear to dry :
To raise distress's drooping head,
To give the naked cloaths and bread.
When sorrows o'er the mind prevail,
Thy balm celestial shall not fail;
Thy faithful servants, after death,
Thou crown'st with glory's lafting wreath.
Still, ftill display thy sacred art,
And warm and animate the heart.

WEET companion of the musc,

Lovely Solitude, appear ; All thy calm content infuse, Soften anguith, banish care :

Lead me, o majestic queen,

Through the aromatic scere. Nature's copied here by art,

Joyful we che fraud confess, Yer so close performs her part, 'Tis but nature's better dreis

Solitude, here fix thy seat,

Here in Cowley's soft retreat. Teach me all the healing pow'rs,

Of each plant and every tree; Say how short-liv'd are the flowers; Bring the moral home to me.

Eid me fleeting life despise !

Make me humble, make me wise. Stretch me on the verdant mead,

Where the murin'ring river flows, Where the elm erpands her thade, And each riling beauty blows ;

There I'll lay in peace of mind,

“ Empty greatness, fall behind," Pride within thy humble cell,

Never yet uprear'd her head;
Solitude, with thee I'll dwell,
I'ride with me is long since derd.

Cold to pleasure, deaf to praise,
Here I wish to end my days.


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ART. 1. A Charge delivered to the Clergy of the English version, the prophet is made to say,

Archaeaconry of St. Alban's, at a Vifitation " They (tbe Tyrians) were thy merchantss bolden May 22, 1783. By tbe Rev. Samuel they traded in thy market wbeat of Minnitb Horsley, L. L. D. F. R. S. Published (with and Pannag, and honey, and oil, and balm," additions) etibe Request of tbe Clergy. 4to. 35. The author supposes Minnib and Pannag

to be a corrupt reading; and would substiHIS learned and excellent writer, after tute in their place Zith, Upbag; the text he

an introduction full of refpeâ for the would, then render" They traded in thy clerical function, enters upon the discussion market wheat, the Olive, and the Fig, &c." of; and points out in a masterly manner,

Which articles of trade the writer thinks but with a true Chriftian spirit,the mistakes, were the commodities of Canaan, and fit misconftructions, and evil tendency of Dr. subjects of commerce with Tyrian metPriestley's Hiftory of the Corruptions of Cbriffi

chants. anity. Having done this, Dr. Horsley concludes with the foltowing candid declaration:“ I feel no fatisfačtion in detecting

Art. IV. Vicarious Sacrifice; or, the reality and the weakneffes of this learned writer's ar importance of Atonement for Sin by tbe Dearb guinent, bụt what arises from a consciouf-, of Cbris, afferted and defended, againf tbe ness, that it is a discharge of some part of

Obj Fions of Dr. Priefley. By R. Elig, the duty which I owe to the church of God.

8. B. 8vo. 25. 6d.. It is a mortifying proof of the infirmity of the human mind, in the highest improve That the corruptors of Chrifianity are "ment of its faculties in the presentlife, that not suffered to adminifter their banelul poiFach fallacies of reasoning, fuch mifcon fon, without fufficient antidotes being at the

ftructions of authorities, such distorted same time pointed out by the faithful laviews of facts and opinions, thould be found bourers in the vineyard of their master, muft in the writings of a man, to whom, of men be, in our opinion, afcribed to the fpe

in the present age, fome branches of the cial grace of God, and his providential care experimental sciences are the most in- l in the prefervation of his church. Chrift debted...

has here, we fęe, raised up another advocate

to support the sacred truths of his gospel; ART. II. The Beauties of Merbodifm, selected which we think Mr. Elliot has done with a

from the Works of the Rev. Fobn Wesley, spirit, perspicuity, and some strengtki of A. M. 12mo. 25, 6d.

argument. An excellent half crowa ordinary for the lovers of incoherent 'nonfense. We know ART. V. A New Transation of St. Paul's the frequenters of the foundery love to be Epifle to tbe Hebrews, from the Original up and doing; and as this savory spiritual Greek, with explanatory Notes. By Samuet treat from works of boneft John's preparing,

Hardy, Rector of Little Blakenbam, in Sufit cannot but, it must be, luitable to dainty folk, and Lecturer of Enfield, ive Middlejex, palates. .

8vo. Is. 6d.

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