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For he that has shown it so far, As to give me a sensible heart,

How heinous soever they are, Delights in the merciful part.

By affliction, so heavy to bear, He searches the wound he would cure; 'Tis his, to be kindly severe, 'Tis mine, by his grace to endure.

O! comfort thyself in his love, Poor sinful and sorrowful soul,

Who came, and still comes, from above, To the sick, that would fain be made whole.

Who said, and continues to say, In the deep of a penitent breast,

"Come sinner, to me come away, I'll meet thee, and bring thee to rest."

A refusal to come is absurd; I'll put myself under his care;

I'll believe his infallible word, And never, no never despair.

A PENITENTIAL SOLILOQUY.
WHAT! tho' no objects strike upon the sight!
Thy sacred presence is an inward light!
What! tho' no sounds shall penetrate the ear!
To list'ning thought the voice of truth is clear!
Sincere devotion needs no outward shrine;
The centre of an humble soul is thine!

There may I worship! and there may'st thou place
Thy seat of mercy, and thy throne of grace!
Yea fix, if Christ my advocate appear,
The dread tribunal of thy justice there:
Let each vain thought, let each impure desire
Meet, in thy wrath, with a consuming fire.

Whilst the kind rigours of a righteous doom
All deadly filth of selfish pride consume,
Thou, Lord! can'st raise, tho' punishing for sin,
The joys of peaceful penitence within:
Thy justice and thy mercy both are sweet,
That make our suff'rings and salvation meet.

Befall me, then, whatever God shall please!
His wounds are healing, and his griefs give ease:
He, like a true physician of the soul,
Applies the medicine that may make it whole:
I'll do, I'll suffer whatsoe'er he wills;

I see his aim thro' all these transient ills.

"Tis to infuse a salutary grief,
To fit the mind for absolute relief:
That purg'd from ev'ry false and finite love,
Dead to the world, alive to things above,
The soul may rise, as in its first form'd youth,
And worship God in spirit and in truth.

Just the reverse of this would Satan say,
That men should always faint, and never pray:
He wants to drive poor sinners to despair;
And Christ to save them by prevailing pray'r.

A blessed truth for parable to paint,
That men should always pray, and never faint!

The judge, who feared neither God nor man,
Despis'd the widow when she first began
Her just request; but she, continuing on
The same petition, wearied him anon;
He could not bear to hear her praying still,
And did her justice, tho' against his will.

Can perseverance force a man, unjust,
To execute, however loth, his trust?
And will not God, whose fatherly delight
Is to save souls, so precious in his sight,
Hear his own offspring's persevering call,
And give the blessing which he has for all?

Yes, to be sure, he will; the lying no
Is a downright temptation of the foe;
Who first emboldens sinners to presume,
As if a righteous judgment had no room;
And, having led them into grievous faults,
With the despair of mercy, then, assaults.

Dear soul, if thou hast listen'd to the lies
Which, at the first, the tempter would devise,
Let him not cheat thee with a second snare,
And drag thee into darkness, by despair;
Pray, against all his wiles, for God will hear,
And will avenge thee of him, never fear.

He gives the grace to sorrow for thy sin,
The sign of kindling penitence within;
Let not the smoke disturb thee, for, no doubt,
The light and flame will follow, and break out;
And love arise to overcome restraint,
That thou may'st always pray, and never faint,

IMPORTUNATE PRAYER.

Luke 18, 1. And he spake a parable unto them, to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint.

A SOLILOQUY,

ON READING THE 5th AND 8th VERSES OF THE 37th PSALM.

Leave off from wrath, and let go displeasure: Fret not thyself, else shalt thou be moved to do evil. V. 8.

Move to do evil! then, dear soul of mine,
Stir it not up, if that be its design:
Its being vain is cause enough to shun;
But if indulg'd, some evil must be done:
And thou, according to the holy king,

AN ENCOURAGEMENT TO EARNEST AND Must be the doer of this evil thing.

IN Psalm, this evening order'd to be read,
"Fret not thyself"-the royal psalmist said.
His reason why, succeeding words instill;
Or else, says he, " 'twill move thee to do ill."
Now tho' I know that fretting does no good,
Its evil movement have I understood?

Men use thee ill-that fault is theirs alone; But if thou use thyself ill, that's thy own: Meekness and patience is much better treasure; Then leave off wrath, and let go all displeasure: Tho' thou art ever so ill treated-yetRemember David, and forbear to fret.

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ARMELLE NICHOLAS'S ACCOUNT OF HERSELF.

I render back no injuries again;

Because I wish the doer's case like mine;
In which, nor good, nor evil, as from men
Is minded much, but from an hand divine.

Modestly asking how the thing could be;
And saying, when inform'd of God's decree,
"Behold the handmaid of the Lord! his will
Let him, according to thy word, fulfill."

What fair instruction may the scene impart
To them, who look beyond the painter's art!
Who, in th' angelic message from above,
See the revealing of God's gracious love
To ev'ry soul, that yields itself to all
That pleases him, whatever may befall!

Whatever circumstance of heav'nly grace
Might be peculiar to the Virgin's case,
That holy thing, that saves a soul from sin,
Of God's good spirit must be born within:
For all salvation is, upon the whole,
The birth of Jesus in the human soul.

IN THE MIDST OF THE DOCTORS.

ENGAG'D, amidst the doctors here, behold,
In deep discourse, a child of twelve years old;
Who show'd, whatever question they preferr'd,
A wisdom that astonish'd all who heard,
And found, in asking, or in answ'ring youth,
Of age so tender, such a force of truth.

VERSES,

Such is the force of his inspiring grace!
For all my good to that alone I owe;

WRITTEN UNDER A PRINT, REPRESENTING CHRIST Since, if my own corrupted self I trace,
I'm nothing else but misery and woe.

Observe his mild, but penetrating look;
Those bearded sages poring o'er their book:
That meek old priest, with placid face of joy;
That pharisaic frowner at the boy:
That pensive rabbi, seeming at a stand;
That serious matron, lifting up her hand.

A group of heads, as painting Fancy taught,
Hints at the various attitude of thought
In diff'rent hearers, all intent upon
The wond'rous graces that in Jesus shon:
Each aspect witnessing the same surprise,
From whence his understanding should arise.

We know, at present, what the learned Jew,
Disputing in the temple, little knew;
That, thro' this child, in every answer made,
God's own eternal wisdom was display'd;
That their Messiah, then, the truths instill'd
Which, grown to man, be perfectly fulfill'd.

We know that his corporeal presence then
On Earth, as man, was requisite for men;
That, by his spirit, he is present still,
And always was, to men of upright will:
To saving truth, whatever doctors say,
His inward guidance must assure the way.

Whether his actions therefore be pourtray'd
In printed letter, or in figur'd shade,
The books, the pictures, that we read or see,
Should raise reflection, in some due degree;
And serve as memorandums, to recall
The teacher Jesus, in the midst of all.

I aim, sincerely, to be just and true;

For my good will to all mankind extends:
A tenderness of heart, I think, is due,

Where stricter ties unite me to my friends.
Whether in conversation, or alone,

Still to my mind God's presence I recall:
My actions wait the judgment of his throne,
And 'tis to him I consecrate them all.

263

PASCAL'S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF. I LOVE and honour a poor humble state,

Because my Saviour Jesus Christ was poor; And riches too, that help us to abate

The miseries, which other men endure.

These are my thoughts, and briefly thus display'd;
I thank my Saviour for them ev'ry day;
Who, of a poor, weak, sinful man, has made
A man exempt from vice's evil sway.

ARMELLE NICHOLAS'S ACCOUNT OF HER-
SELF.

FROM THE FRENCH.

"To the God of my love, in the morning," said
she,

"Like a child to its parent, when waking I flee;
With a longing to serve him, and please him, I
rise,
[eyes:
And before him kneel down, as if seen by these
I resign up myself to his absolute will,
Which I beg that in me he would always fulfil;
That the pray'rs of the day, by whomever pre-

ferr'd,

For the good of each soul, may be also thus heard.

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He alone can express it, no language of mine, Were my life spent in speaking, could ever define.

"When perhaps by hard usage, or weariness I myself am too apt to be fretful at best, [prest, Love shows me, forthwith, how I ought to take heed

Not to nurse the least anger, by word or by deed; And he sets such a watch at the door of my lips, That of hasty cross words there is nothing that slips;

Such irregular passions, as seek to surprise, Are crush'd, and are conquer'd, as soon as they rise.

"Or, if e'er I give place to an humour so bad, My mind has no rest till forgiveness be had; I confess all my faults, as if he had not known, And my peace is renew'd, by a goodness his own; In a manner so free, as if, after my sin, More strongly confirm'd than before it had been: By a mercy so tender my heart is reclaim'd, And the more to love him by its failing inflam'd.

"Sometimes I perceive that he hideth his face, And seem like a person depriv'd of all grace; Then I say "Tis no matter, altho' thou conceal Thyself as thou pleasest, I'll keep to my zeal; I'll love thee, and serve thee, however this rod May be sent to chastise, for I know thou art God;' And with more circumspection I stand upon guard,

Till of such a great blessing no longer debarr'd.

"But a suff'ring, so deep, having taught me to What I am in my selfhood, I learn to rely [try More firmly on him, who was pleas'd to endure The severest extremes, to make way for our cure: To conform to his pattern, as love shall see fit, My faith in the Saviour resolves to submit; For no more than myself (if the word may go free) Can I live without him, can he help loving me.

"Well assur'd of his goodness, I pass the whole day,

And my work, hard or easy, is felt as a play;
I am thankful in feelings, but, pleasure or smart,
It is rather himself that I love in my heart.
When they urge me to mirth, I think, O! were it
known

How I meet the best company when I'm alone! Tomy dear fellow-creatures what ties me each hour, Is the love of my God, to the best of my pow'r.

"At the hour of the night, when I go to my rest, I repose on his love, like a child at the breast; And a sweet, peaceful silence invites me to keep Contemplating him, to my dropping asleep: Many times a good thought, by its gentle delight, Has with-held me from sleep, a good part of the In adoring his love, that continues to share [night, To a poor, wretched creature, so special a care.

"This after my heart was converted at last, Is the life I have led for these twenty years past: My love has not chang'd, and my innermost

peace,

Tho' it ever seem'd full, has gone on to increase:
'Tis an infinite love that has fill'd me, and fed
My still rising hunger to eat of its bread;
So satisfy'd still, as if such an excess [possess."
Could have nothing more added, than what

REFLECTIONS

ON THE FOREGOING ACCOUNT.

How full of proof of Heav'n's all-present aid
Was good Armelle, a simple servant maid!
A poor French girl, by parentage and birth
Of low, and mean condition upon Earth;
By education ignorant indeed,

|

She, all her life, could neither write nor read.
But she had that which all the force of art
Could neither give, nor take away-an heart;
An honest, humble, well disposed will,
The true capacity for higher skill
Than what the world, with all its learned din,
Could teach-she learn'd her lesson from within:
Plain, single lesson of essential kind,

The love of God's pure presence in her mind.
Her artless, innocent, attentive thought
Was at the source of all true knowledge taught;
There she could read the characters imprest
Upon the mind of ev'ry human breast;
The native laws prescrib'd to ev'ry soul;
And love, the one fulfiller of the whole.

This holy love to know, and practise well, Became the sole endeavour of Armelle: Of outward things, the management and rule, She wisely took from this internal school: In ev'ry work well done by such a hand, The work was servile, but the thing was grand, There was a dignity in all she did, Tho' from the world by meaner labours hid; If mean below, not so esteem'd above, Where all the grand of labour is the love: In vain to boast magnificence of scene; It is all meanness, if the love be mean.

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