ODE ON THE NATIVITY OF OUR SAVIOUR. WHAT glowing beams the heav'ns adorn! What music hails the rising morn! What angei hymns are these? Hark! dulcet notes from golden lyres, Attun'd to raptur'd seraphs' fires, Announce the Prince of Peace. In strains like these the wond'rous plan Th' unfolding skies proclaim; In empyrean realms of light, "To God be glory: God is love." The golden age begins to run; Prophetic of his mental sway, See Wisdom's sons adore. In homage to the world's great King, And Sala's golden ore. The rocky wilds with roses bloom, Whose fragrance fills the skies: Pure streams the thirsty desart grace, With tender lambs shall feed; And docile leopards lead. From Judah's pastor-king, whose fold Shall earth's salvation spring. And hail the new-born King. Mercy and truth's united strains "Ye nations own his sway; Why doth not Israel own her God? Whom all the prophets sing. Proclaiming Israel's King. Oh, Solyma, thy sons no more, Once Heav'n's adopted race; Circling the throne of grace. Heav'n's banner o'er their heads shall Alike to conquer or to save, Invincible be found: The fiery darts the foe shall wield; Shall fall extinct around. Salvation shall their helmet shine, Clothe like a sun their breast; Pure zeal their fearless feet shall guide Salvation's sound to hear; The sacred soul. exalting lore, W.C. 556 EVENING HYMN. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. O THOU! the Parent of the day, The God of ev'ry hour, Some spirit wings its way; Great God! while roll the midnight hours, O let me own thy care; 'Tis thine each thought to know. So, when the day of life is past (The mortal veil withdrawn) Then on my raptur'd, longing sight, Eternity shall dawn! Tooley Street. PASTOR. Orphan Boy's Lamentation. An, what a cloud o'erspreads my sky,- Once had I parents, parents dear, Thrice happy days were those to me; No mother's tender voice I hear! No more their daily converse sweet Fills with delight my list'ning ear! Ah no! I'm left to wander on, And rent in twain each tender tie! THE YOUNG CONVERI'S PRAYER For Oh, what floods of lust and pride To court and draw my heart aside; O then I'll let my neighbours see On whom my hopes depend. And some of wealth, and some of arms, I'll sing the glories of thy grace, The meltings of thy love; On thee and thine above. Yea, earth shall sink beneath my feet, G. AULD, Printer, Greville Street, London. TO THE EVANGELICAL MAGAZINE, FOR THE YEAR 1803. MEMOIR OF THE LATE REV. JOSEPH RADFORD. Ir is impossible to view the various distinguishing excel lencies of the servants of our dear Immanuel, without admiring the wisdom of the Spirit of the Lord, who divides to every man severally as he will. To some he imparts qualifications for extensive usefulness, in awaking the careless: to others, skill instrumentally, to bind up the broken heart, and comfort the feeble mind. One is indulged to gather a church; another is peculiarly fitted to tend and feed it when formed: all have reason to be thankful; none have any occasion of boasting. Men of the greatest talents have not every talent; there is a wise and gracious distribution. It will not, however, be deemed presumptuous to say, that those whom the Lord has been pleased to favour with the necessary requisites for general usefulness and continued reputation, who never were exposed to the snare of momentary popularity, nor ever sunk into neglect and oblivion, are among the happiest and most honourable, not to say the most enviable, of all the ministers of Christ. Such a one was the subject of the present memoir. The Rev. Joseph Radford was born in the parish of Stepney, July 21, 1752. His father, who was a reputable tradesman, died when he was but two years old; and the business continued to be carried on by his mother; but, alas! with so little success, that when the Lord removed her by a fever, during his apprenticeship, it appears, that not only all her own property was consumed, but also an estate of seventeen houses, which his father had left him by will; so that all his earthly 4 C XI. |