The week before, a man who had been in Society three or four years, and had been an ornament to it, was nevertheless convinced of the need of a farther work of grace; he therefore cried to God, pleaded his promises in faith, and obtained the bleffing. He can now rejoice in the Lord all the day long. What is remarkable, the very fame day, and about the fame hour, his apprentice, a lad about fourteen years of age, found peace with God. Oh! Sir, it did my heart good to hear firft the mafter, and then the lad, fpeaking of the wonderful works of God; the tears ran down the lad's face while he spoke, and his look was expreffive of the heaven he felt within. It brought to my mind the 11th of June 1758, when God Tpoke peace to my own foul, and what he has done fince for an unworthy

wretch.

Five weeks ago I went to Yenton, and formed a little Society there four or five have found peace with God, and I believe the reft are earnestly seeking it. Last Sabbath morning I rode to Halefowen, a rumour prevailed that there would be perfecution, but I felt the love of Jefus warming my heart, and had not the leaft fear of either men or devils. I preached in a houfe at nine, and all feemed to drink in the word with greedi nefs. I publifhed preaching out of doors at half paft one. went to Church and heard an excellent fermon on the only fure Foundation; and then preached near the Church-yard, at the appointed hour with great freedom, and no person attempted to make the leaft difturbance: from a perfuafion that good will be done, I published preaching there again, and hope my fellow-traveller will be there at the appointed time.

I

A few at Wednesbury, who are enabled to rejoice in the Lord always, defired I would join them in a fele&t band. I told them I rejoiced at the propofal, and exhorted them to use every means for gaining and retaining all the life of God. Begging you will not forget us at the throne of grace, I remain, Rev. and dear Sir, your dutiful fon in the gospel, 3 Z 2

R. R.

POETRY

POE

TRY.

SHORT HYMN S.

[By the late Rev. C. Wesley.]

On MATT. vii. ver. 8.-Every one that afketh receiveth.

HAVE I not afk'd, and afk'd again,

And pray'd ten thoufand times in vain,

For power and liberty?

A man of lips and heart unclean!

Yet ftill I cannot cease from fin,
Yet ftill I am not free.

How can it be most gracious Lord,
If thou art faithful to thy word?
The fole exception I,

I feem of all thy ranfom'd race,
Alone excluded from thy grace,
And left in fin to die.

Do I not ftill for mercy pray?
Take this oppreffive fin away,

This unbelief remove;

My defperate misery relieve,

And

peace

1

and power and freedom give,

By giving me thy love,

Why do I not receive it now?

Righteous in all thy judgments thou

Explain the mystery;

Or let me fill in darkness own,
Howe'er unfeen, howe'er unknown

The hindrance is in me,

Could I but afk, and ask aright,
My Saviour foon would give me light,
Would foon himself impart :

O for that fupplicating power!
O might I from this happy hour,
Obtain a praying heart.

Indulge

Indulge me in this one request,
And lo, I trust thee for the rest,

Thou God of faithful love;
And whilft I tarry here below,
In darkness or in light. I go

To praise thy truth above.

A MONODY, to the Memory of the Rev. Mr. WESLEY.

T

[During the Funeral folemnities.]

HE while to Death thy dear remains defcend,

My honour'd Father, I may fay, my Friend!
While fickness cannot hear the Preacher tell
How thou haft liv'd, and living-died as well:
In this ftill hour, the offering Mufe ellays
To figh her heart-or fpell thy deathless praise!
In retrospection fee thy worth best known,
There read the public lofs! and feel her own!

O Ritchie! O my friend! to you 'twas giv'n
T'attend our Father to the gate of heav'n!
Me too, he lov'd,-to me, my Father faid,
"You shall be one befide my dying bed!"
Why did I let enfeebling languor stay!
Why do I live to chide the dull delay!
I fhould have gone, and died with him away.

Exprefslefs! O irreparable loss!

This thought will Sion's orphan heart engross!
O my Affociates! Sion's favour'd friends,
Say for this lofs what adequate amends!
Not but we know the Church's head furvives,
And fill the refidue of spirit gives:

Not but we know he can the graces fhow'r
On many, or on one, as heretofore.

But Oh! we do a matchless WESLEY mourn!
No common grief bedews a WESLEY'S urn!

O who

ཉ

O who shall teach like him, to whom was giv'n
The various gift, the Spirit one and seven!
Who now fhall teach like him! like him prefide!
He was our Paft'ral Shepherd, and our Guide!
The care of all the Churches was his care;
By the great Shepherd rais'd the weight to bear.
When god-like Fletcher an apoftle drew,
The more abundant labourer we knew,
And in the Portrait our Apoftle view.

Mighty in word and deed, we thee record!
Thee honour'd! O how honour'd of thy Lord,
When thousands feal'd thy miffionary word!
To thee th' o'ercoming power of faith was giv'n,
Elijah like, to fhut and open heav'n!

By inflantaneous miffive acts fubdue,
Hence fudden shafts of heav'nly light'ning flew,
Hence fudden fhow'rs of heav'nly grace bedew:
And hence elanc'd the fin-confuming fire,
That fwift effus'd the foul in pure defire.
Yes, well he knew, the "word of faith is nigh,"
That in a moment, in a twink'ling eye,
Our Lord can work, as well as gradually.
O, he would preach! 'twas harmony to hear!
To wifdom's door poft he would nail the ear!
As when in Eden the ethereal power
Taught our first parent in the priftine bower;
So charming was his fpeech, that in its end
Adam ftill thought him fpeaking,-ftill did fixft attend.

How would our heav'n-inflru&ted Scribe unfold,

Out of his fhining treafures new and old!
Old as the ancient lapfe whence evil fprung;
New as the ftrains th' apocalyptic fung:
Deep in the kingdom's facred mysteries,
The works of Nature, Providence, and Grace,
Up to their glorious Source, he knew to trace:

Fair Erudition gave him all her flore,

He had the key of Learning's ample door!
From hence he knew to clear th' involved text,
From barbarous idioms, when it was perplex'd.

But how well fill'd in fcientific lore,
We leave to Genius juftly to explore.

My fimpler mufe can only fimply do
Her duty, love and admiration fhew!
Think o'er the gifts of nature, and of grace,
That in our Paflor eminently was,
To the great Giver's glory, honour, praise.

The good gift, and the perfect gift was his;
The power to profit, and the art to please!
The well-tun'd inftrument, and lovely fong,
Were given him to allure the foul along :
No pompous, wordy, florid eloquence,

That ftuns with found, and tires the mental fenfe.
(Needlefs digreffion, and long episode,

As if the Preacher had miftook his road,)

But wifdom and fimplicity combin'd

To fhew our Master-builder's turn of mind;

True Oratory's ealy flowing veft,

The dress of thought! and of his thought, the beft.

'Twas Truth, and Nature, in their own attire!

Children might understand, the Sage admire!

'Twas Truth and Nature, to advantage drest,

"What might be thought, but ne'er so well exprefs'd." Concife, yet various, plain, and yet not dull,

But glowing as the pathos of the foul.

"The golden apples fet in filver frame,"
Elucidating as the folar beam :

'Twas Intuition rob'd with elegance,
What critics call pure Ciceronian sense,
The true fublime :-'twas Scripture eloquence.

}

'Twas