And you must go, whether you will or no,
To heaven above, or to the gulf below.
O, may you all repent and live so well,
That you may die without the fears of hell!
Repent of sin, and turn to God to-day;
Return with all your hearts—make no delay;
The vilest sinner that repents of sin,
And turns to God, the Lord will take him in;
The blessed Jesus stands with open arms
To save the humble soul from all alarms.
Sinners, are you of such hell-hardened steel,
That neither wrath nor love can make you feel?
But, oh, my gracious God, must I be still?
Sinners are void of strength as well as will;
They will not come to thee for life and peace,
They cannot come without they're drawn by grace.
The law is holy, pure, and clear as light,
And claims no more of men than what is right,
The Sovereign has a right to all his dues,
Though subjects are insolvent, or refuse;
The law requires of men perfection still,
And every failure is a moral ill.

Here then, I find I've work enough to do,

To preach to all," be faithful, just and true;
Make clean your hands and hearts, and be as good

As Adam ere he ate forbidden food;

Believe in God, and kiss his equal Son;

Take up the cross, and after Jesus run."

But ah! I preach what every one should do,
But sad experience proves what they pursue.
There's none that doeth good—all leave the way—
Soon as they're born, like beasts they go astray;
Guilty, polluted, both without and in,

Haters of holiness, in love with sin.

Here then the work increases—more to do—
To tell what Jesus does for men below;
He finds them in the wilderness of death,
Or in the open field, exposed to wrath;
No eye to pity—none to take them in,
Nor do they wish to be redeemed from sin,

But by his quick'ning grace, he makes them see

The dangers they are in except they flee;

He works in them to will, and gives them strength to do,

Then they repent of sin, and after Jesus go;

He draws them with the cords of love and grace,

They run to see their dear Redeemer's face;
He bids them go their way with sins forgiv'n;
They follow him, and go the way to heaven.
He leads them in a way they never knew,
Makes darkness light, and every object new.

They see that God is just, and wonder why
Mercy should spare them, when they ought to die ;
The holy law is lovely in their sight,

Although to keep it they are void of might.
They trust in Christ's redeeming blood alone,
And cry, "grace, grace," unto the living stone.
The saints collectively, are all but one,—
The Bride of Christ, his married wife alone;
Their Maker is their Husband, guide and friend,
Whose love is strong, and lasts unto the end;
This flock of God he bought with his own blood,
His claim to all his sheep must then be good;

He died that they might have eternal life,

And none can pluck them from his hands by strife.

The following lines were read at the funeral of Miss Emeline Witmarsh, (sister of the preceding,) December 21, 1836.

Here we behold the mortal part of one

Whose days are finish'd, and whose work is done;
But ere she died, she learned the heav'nly art
To trust in Christ, and give him all her heart.
When she lay struggling in death's iron arms,
Laura descended, filled with heav'nly charms,
Sent from above, to wait and watch the time,
When she should live again with Emeline.
Invisible to mortals—plain to faith ;—
We then attend to hear what Laura saith.

"My sister Emeline, did you but know
The joys that flow where you will quickly go,
You'd long to be released from cumbrous clay,
And to the upper regions wing your way.
Sent from the Saviour, full of love and grace,
I'm come to guide you to that heavenly place.
Oh, that my father, mother, every friend,

Might know the joys that have no bound nor end!"
This said, she beckoned; "sister, come away;"-
Her sister died and went without delay:

Upward they steer'd their course to heaven's high wall,
The gates flew open, and they heard the call,
"Come in, come in, ye pilgrims of the Lord,
And take a crown of life for your reward."

LINES occasioned by the death of the Reverend Justus Hull, and

his funeral:

sung at

May 29" 1833

Prostrate before our weeping eyes,
Greatness in humble ruin lies;

For more than fifty years he stood,
A faithful witness for his God,
Proclaiming Christ's redeeming blood ;—
But he is gone.

Nothing below the skies he sought,
For heaven above he ran and fought,
A glittering crown before his eyes
Laid up in heaven above the skies;
He labor'd hard to win the prize;
But he is gone.

The work of prayer was his delight,
He called on God both day and night;
How oft we've seen the herald stand,
Imploring mercy for the land;

That God would stay his vengeful hand:
But he is gone.

Could skill'd physicians, friends and saints,
Have sav'd him from his dire complaints,
Instead of meeting here to-day,

To look with sadness on his clay,

We might have heard him preach and pray :
But he is gone.

In him was found the heavenly art,
To lead the mind and melt the heart;
Soon as his solemn voice was heard,
The saints rejoic'd, the sinners feared,
And all the holy man rever'd ;—

But he is gone.

LETTER TO HON. R. M. JOHNSON, JUNE 9, 1834.

Hon. SIR-Whether events take place pursuant to an unalterable decree, or whether they are contingent, they have had their course, and brought the world into its present condition. Somewhere, in creation, between the highest angel and smallest insect, there was a gap for myself; but, whether that gap would have been a greater defect than the supply, is a question. The term of time that I have filled has astonished the world with its events. As I was twenty-one years old between the battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, I have not to learn the course of things in the field or cabinet from history, having lived through the whole term from '75, to 1834. As you have passed through the scenes of the present century, (some of which have been bloody, and many of them hot and windy,) and well know what contests there was for ten years before the present century began, it would be an insult on your knowledge to say anything about them. But like other old men, I will say a little about myself. I never desired a civil office in my life, nor have I ever thought that my talents, with their small cultivation, qualified me to fill any office, even a middling grade; but, some how or other I have been a republican (dyed in the skin, before the wool was grown, which cannot be sheared off) both in church and state. To acknowledge his Holiness the Pope, my Lord Bishop, his Highness the Synod, his Excellency the Presbytery, his most Christian Majesty, the Association, or his Grace the Brotherhood, to hold dominion over my faith and direct my conscience, is making a bow too great for my stiff neck. As well might I bow to a hereditary Monarch, a life leased Aristocracy, or a jockey made President. Let the church be formed (not of many masters, but) of living stones, and proceed as the Bible directs, and I will be subject, and not set up my will as a standard for others; but let them not crowd into the empire of conscience; for the little busy Paul, (whose name is mentioned one hundred and sixty times in the New Testament,) saith, "why is my liberty judged by another man's conscience?" My religion forbids me to speak evil of dignities—teaches me to be subject to the powers that be—to obey magistrates, etc. Where laws are made for general good, I would cheerfully submit; where they are oppressive, I would bear with patience. If the oppression can be removed by the oppressed, I would unite with them to gain redress. But if laws are made to describe what God I shall adore, how I shall worship him,

and at what places and times that worship shall be paid; be it known to all that I will not fall down and worship the image that is set up. "Where conscience begins, empire ends."

But stop my fugitive pen, come back to your bearings. Our constitution of government was formed in peace for peace; and many of its warmest friends feared it would not sustain the shock of war. Mr. Randolph once said, "go to war, Mr. Chairman, and you will come out of it without a constitution." This prediction, however, has failed. Mr. Madison said to me, in 1788, "the states have surrendered to the general government a certain quantity of their rights; but it is most likely, if ever the general government is dissolved, it will proceed from the jeal. ousy of state authorities." This has not yet taken place. The present appearance is that the ambition of aspirants, with their inflamed partizans, are the most to be feared. Why all this strife and contention? What is there in high offices so amiable? Did Milton make the devil speak a truth, when he said, "better reign in hell, than be subordinate in heaven?" In monarchies, where kings have their agents to do the thinking and acting for them, a throne may be an easy seat; but, in the United States, the presidency must be a laborious, painful and perplexing office; and it will seem to me that the president, who is fairly chosen by the people, needs, and has a constitutional right to expect all the aid that the co-ordinate powers and the people can afford, (not sacrificing, however, the right of private judgment and the open disclosure of opinion.) This would be practical republicanism. Some time past, a society agreed to build a meeting-house, but differed widely as to the best measures of erecting and disposing of it. When the question was decided by a fair vote, a man who was in the minority arose and addressed the society as follows: "Gentlemen, the vote has gone against me, but I concur, and shall do as much to further the work as if my judgment had been honored. It is my will that a majority should rule, and therefore, in this instance, my will is gratified." This republican principle, interwoven into all the federal states, and into the heart of every officer in the United States, would produce more good work, and less bad talk, than is now the case; for oratory has overdone itself. The question now is, among the middling class of sober men, (who in fact are the bone of society,) not "what does the man say?" but "what does he do?" Free debate must be granted, and decent time allowed for reflection; but it is presumed, that nearly all the leading questions that come before Congress, are cut and dried beforehand; and, if the previous question was sustained on the first day, the result would be the same that takes place after two months are consumed in retailing wind; for, the members are not sent by their constituents to be converted, but because they are covenanted, and will not fall from grace.