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Poor Hagar, when her bottle fail'd,

Sat down distress'd, and cry'd; But hope and joy again prevaild,

When she the well desery’d.

Thus creature comforts quickly die,

Then how our sorrows swell, Till

grace descending from on high, Reveals the Saviour's well.

The water flowing from the cross,

From age to age, is found A rich amends for every loss,

A balm for every wound. .

Here let us drink, and drink again,

Till by the pow'r of faith,
We joy in trouble, smile at pain,

And triumph over death.

Tho' all our bottles empty prove,

And empty ev'ry urn,
If we possess this well of love,

We need not greatly mourn.

May dear Miss S, and dear Miss N

For this I often pray,
The virtues of this water feel,

Still more from day to day.

May he, who join'd your hearts below,

Still guide them as his own,
And guard you thro' this world of woe,

To stand before his throne.

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And when before his throne of grace,

Your hearts in pray'r are free,
Let me have in your thoughts a place;

Dear children, pray for me!

January 16, 1801.



JUST here I have interr'd
My pretty warbling bird;
How tuneful was his note;
How beautiful his coat!
Paor mortals little know
When Death may strike his blow.
One day my bird was well,
The next, alas! he fell;
Where now his artless lay,
Where now his plumage gay ;
Ye beaus and belles confess,
Less fine than his your dress;
Less innocent your strains,
Your life less free from stains;
But no less frail your breath,
Nor more secure from death;
No shame, remorse, or guilt,
My goldfinch ever felt;
The past caus'd no dismay,
He fear'd no future day;
Were not the blessed gospel true,
I'd wish to be a goldfinch too,




LIKE rising ground a new birth-elay,
Invites us to review the way,

We hitherto have come ;
And helps us to look forward too,
Beyond what we must yet pass thro'

Before we reach our home.

Behind us, rais'd from year to year,
Our Ebenezers rang'd appear,

Like mile-stones on the road ;
For help in time of trouble sent,
Or standing as a monument

Of benefits bestow'd.

Before us, Zion's gate


What hills, or dales, may lie between,

To us is yet unknown;
But we may trust the Lord our friend,
Who brought us hither to the end ;

He ne'er forsakes his own.

Tho' many changes we have past,
Since I in verse address'd you last,

Yet Jesus changes not!
Our gourds must fade, our friends must die,
Yet while he is our friend on high,

We cannot be forgot.

On his kind care may we repose,
Our frame, our fears, our wants, he knows;

And says, “I will provide,
“ Tho' foes surround and press you hard,
Depend on me to be your guard,

And unto death, your guide."

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Assist us Lord, with stedfast aim,
To do thy will, and praise thy name,

Till flesh and heart shall fail ;
Till all our toils and sorrows end,
And we, at thy soft call, ascend

To thee, within the vail !


There many, whom we lov'd below,
Before thy throne already bow,

And wonder, and adore;
We hope with them, ere long, to meet,
And join their songs in concert sweet,

For ever-evermore..

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