have neither heart nor tongue themfelves, to vindicate the caufe of God and his people, and to promote the knowledge, experience, and practice of Religion?

Many imagine that they have real religion; at least, that they have fufficient to efcape Hell and carry them to Heaven, and yet they are ignorant of the first principles of Chriftianity? They neglect family prayer, or private devotion. They think well of themselves, because in their duties before men they are devout and zealous; but in their clofets they are ftraitened, and put the Lord off with a fhort collect. Many are neat and clean, when walking in the view of others, but if you follow them home to their houfes and chambers, what fhameful negligence of duties? what bad tempers do they discover to their parents and mafters; or to their children and fervants? How litle of the Image of God, and of the Mind of Chrift do they manifeft? What trifles will put them out of temper; how paffionate, peevish, and fretful, at every little difagreeable occurrence they meet with? How miferable do they make themfelves, and all around them?

How few are uniform in their obedience; and how many will be afhamed, because they respect not ALL God's Commandments? Still they clip the law; they have fome fecret referves; they will let prophane nefs go, provided they may but retain covetoufnefs;-they will pray, and hear fermons, if they may but be indulged in extortion, and ungodly gain. Or, they will be honest and strict to the rules of Juftice and Equity among men, but they will rob God of his honour. Some of them are punctual to a day,-to a farthing; (Blush, Reader, if thou art fhort of the hypocrite's ftature !) but they will rob God of his due, both in the clofet and family.

How frequently do we hear fome defiring to know, What is the leaft meafure of faving Grace; and why? becaufe they would fit down therewith. There is not a furer mark of an unfound heart, and a foolish confcience, than to be contented with the leaft degree of Grace, and not to prefs forward.

How generally do men hate to be examined about the flate of their fouls? This is, but too often, a fure fign of a painted Chriftian Paint will not endure the fire: Hypocrites and Formalifts hate plain and faithful dealing; they do not like to be pierced to the heart. How many continue in the exercife of outward religion, and yet their hearts are hardened more and more? nevertheless, they will not confult with preachers, and experienced Chriftians, about their fad condition; but fink deeper and deeper into darknefs and mifery! O when will you break through the fnares of the wicked one, and become Chriftians indeed? When will you put on the armour

of Righteoufnefs? the whole Armour ? and take the King. dom of Heaven by holy violence? Begin this moment: now let the angels of God fee what you can do, through the affiftance of his all-fufficient Grace! Now let the powers of darkness lament the lofs of you, to their caufe and intereft. Nothing is impoffible to him who believeth on Jefus. An open door is fet before you, and it is impoffible to hinder your entrance into life and falvation, if you are but willing, and refolutely bent to ferve the living God. But if thou art a whited wall, he affured, God will fmite thee. If you deny God your hearts, never expect his ear: Quails you may have, but with a vengeance; with leannefs in your fouls. What God defireth and looketh for, is, "Truth in the inward parts." Put on, then, the new man, which after God is cre ated in Righteoufnefs, and true Holinefs. Now boldly enter into the Holy of Holies, by the blood of Jefus by that new and living way which he hath confecrated for us, through the vail, that is to fay, his flefh. Let us draw near with a true heart, in full affurance of faith, having our hearts fprinkled from an evil confcience, i. e. from all the guilt and power of fin; and our bodies washed with pure Water, i. e. all our converfation fpotlefs and holy, and ordered according to the Will of God, in Chrift Jesus.

POETRY.

A HYMN

OF PRAIS E,

COM

I WILL SING OF MERCY.

COME, Oh! my foul, awake; awake and fing;
Come, tune thy harp to fweeteft, fofteft lays:
Record the wonders of thy GOD and King,
And offer up a Song of grateful praise.

Praife waits for Thee,-at humble diftance waits,
Confcious how far fhe falls beneath thy throne:
Fain would the foar beyond the heavenly gates,
And make thy triumphs to Archangels known.

O for the wings of holy joy and love,
To bear her adorations up to Thee;
O for the whispers of the facred Dove,
To bring thy approbation down to me.

I fing of Mercy ;-'tis a theme divine!

It flows to ME, thro' ftreams of precious blood: Rich are thy bleffings; but they brightest shine,

As purchas'd by thy death, my SAVIOUR GOD,

Late

Late, thro' a painful path my journey lay,

High blew the whirlwind;-while the ftorm arofe,
Black clouds, tempeftuous, overhung the day,
And all was anguish, all was gloom, and foes!

With trembling fteps I travell'd thro' the shade,
And oft, affrighted by the Lion's roar,
To thee, my God, my King, I flew for aid,
And found my mighty Refuge in thy Power.
Thine Arm fupported, while the tempeft blew !
Thy gracious eye pervaded all my grief!
Thou wifely guided, kindly brought me through,
And flew on eagle's wings to my relief!
The thunder's o'er, and all's ferenely calm!
Hufh'd to sweet peace, the floods no longer beat,
This is the triumph of IMMANUEL's Arm!
I fall aftonith'd at his gracious feet.

My FATHER and my GOD, to thee I'll fing
Eternal anthems of unbounded praife;
Myfelf, my all, an humble offering bring

To thee, the GOD of Providence and Grace.
O for a thoufand hearts to love thy Name!
A thousand tongues to found thy glories high!
To fpread abroad thine everlafting fame,
And join the hallelujahs of the sky.
Faithful and true is thy tremendous Name,
My glorious Mafter, my Almighty Lord!
Eternal ages prove thee ftill the fame;
Eternal ages fhall thy Truth record.

On Thee, the ocean of unbounded love,

My foul embarks her all, commits to thee
Her cares, her fears, her wants, and longs to prove
An everlasting refuge, Lord, in Thee.

On thy kind bofom I would fain recline,

My Saviour God. O let thy prefence cheer!
Thy Spirit guide, and guard, and feal me thine;
Lead and direct me while I fojourn here.

Then in the realms of bright celeftial day,
My foul fhall blefs Thee in fublimer lays;
Shall fee thy glories in their full difplay,
And fing a fweeter, nobler fong of Praile.
MARIA DE FLEURY.

VOL. XVII. Dec. 1794-

INDEX