Το ages in a world of pain,

Το ages, where he goes

Galled by affliction's heavy chain,

And hopeless of repofe.

Strange fondness of the human heart,

Enamoured of its harm!

Strange world, that cofts it so much smart, And ftill has power to charm.

Whence has the world her magic power?

Why deem we death a foe?

Recoil from weary life's best hour,

And covet longer woe?

The cause is Conscience-Conscience oft

Her tale of guilt renews:

Her voice is terrible though foft,
And dread of death enfues.

Then anxious to be longer spared
Man mourns his flecting breath:
All evils then feem light, compared
With the approach of Death.

'Tis judgment shakes him; there's the fear,

That prompts the wish to stay:

He has incurred a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.

Pay!-follow Chrift, and all is paid;
His death your peace insures;
Think on the grave where he was laid,
And calm defcend to yours.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1793.

De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur. CIC. DE LEG.

But let us all concur in this one fentiment, that things facred be inviolate.

He lives who lives to God alone,

And all are dead befide;

For other fource than God is none
Whence life can be supplied.

To live to God is to requite
His love as best we may :
To make his precepts our delight,
His promises our stay.

But life, within a narrow ring

Of giddy joys comprized,

Is falfely named, and no fuch thing,

But rather death disguised,

Can life in them deserve the name,
Who only live to prove

For what poor toys they can disclaim

An endless life above?

Who, much diseased, yet nothing feel; Much menaced, nothing dread;

Have wounds, which only God can heal, Yet never afk his aid?

Who deem his houfe an useless place,
Faith, want of common sense;
And ardour in the Chriftian race,
A hypocrite's pretence?

Who trample order; and the day,
Which God afferts his own,
Dishonour with unhallowed play,
And worship chance alone?

If fcorn of God's commands, impreffed On word and deed, imply

The better part of man, unbleffed

With life that cannot die;

Such want it, and that want uncured

Till man refigns his breath, Speaks him a criminal, affured Of everlasting death.

Sad period to a pleasant course!
Yet fo will God repay

Sabbaths profaned without remorse,

And mercy caft away.

८