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Which morning bids to cease: O come that day-spring from on high, When discord shall with darkness fly, And all be light and peace! 'Twas this that drew repentant tears From Peter, led by worldly fears

His master to disown; Warn'd by the monitor of day, He cast the works of night away, And sought th' abjured sun. Whene'er the bird of dawning crows, He tells us all how Peter rose,

And mark'd us out the road; That each disciple might begin, Awake, like him, from sleep and sin,

To think betimes on God.

Smote by the eye that looks on all,
Let us, obedient to the call,

Arise to weep and pray;
Till mournful, as on sin we muse,
Faith, like an angel, tells the news,
"The Lord is ris'n to-day!"

THE WIDOW OF NΑΙΝ. 'since he is gone 'I ask no earthly hope-be thou, Oh Israel's God! my portion now: And, when the pangs of memory prey On my cold heart, be Thou my stay, And teach my sinking soul to say,

It is the Lord-His will be done.' She ceased upon the green hill's brow A cloud of dust was gathering now: Hark! through the light air echoing loud The murmurs of a mingled crowd. Onward the tumult rolls-'tis nearThey listen, mute with breathless fear: Is it the lordly Roman's car? The pomp and pageantry of war: Where Zion's sons must swell the train, Of foes their inmost souls disdain?

Or those bold warriors-wild, yet free-
The rebel bands of Galilee ?
No-they are brethren and that cry
Is the glad shout of victory:
'Tis high Hosanna's loud acclaim,
'Tis royal David's honoured name.

And now they wind the steep descent-
The glance, in swift inquiry bent,
Wandered o'er all, but fixed on one-
Cireled by numbers, yet alone.
Robed in the garb of poverty,
Nor king, nor priest, nor warrior he;
Yet-why they know not-in his mien
A latent loftiness was seen:

A more than mortal majesty,

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That daunted while it fixed the eye.
The countless throng that round him pressed,
To him their songs of praise addressed;
Not thus had Abram's seed adored,
A heathen chief-an earthly lord.
They come they meet-but, ere they past
One gracious, pitying look he cast
On that pale mourner-marked her tear,
And bade her 'weep not; '-to the bier
He turned---but, ere he spoke his will,
Each trembled with a sudden thrill
Of conscious awe-the train stood still!

The mourtier-speechless and amazed,
On that mysterious stranger gazed.

If young he were, 'twas only seen
From lines that told what once had been;-
As if the withering hand of Time
Had smote him ere he reached his prime.
The bright rose on his cheek was faded;
His pale fair brow with sadness shaded-
Yet through the settled sorrow there
A conscious grandeur flashed-which told
Unswayed by man, and uncontrolled,
Himself had deigned their lot to share,
And borne because he willed to bear.
Whate'er his being, or his birth,
His soul had never stooped to earth;
Nor mingled with the meaner race,
Who shared or swayed his dwelling place:
But high-mysterious and unknown,
Held converse with itself alone:
And yet the look that could depress
Pride to its native nothingness;
And bid the specious boaster shun
The eye he dared not gaze upon,
Superior love did still reveal-
Not such as man for man may feel-
No-all was passionless and pure-

That godlike majesty and woe,
Which counts it glory to endure-
And knows, nor hope, nor fear below;
Nor aught that still to earth can bind,
But love and pity for mankind.
And in his eye a radiance shone

Oh! how shall mortal dare essay,
On whom no prophet's vest is thrown,
To paint that pure celestial ray?
Mercy, and tenderness, and love,

And all that finite sense can deem
Of him who reigns enthroned above;-
Light-such as blest Isaiah's dream,
When to the awe-struck Prophet's eyes,

God bade the star of Judah rise-
There heaven in living lustre glowed-
There shone the Saviour-there the God.
Oh ye to whom the dying Lord
Your sorrows-not his own-deplored:
Thou, on whose guilt the Saviour cast
A look of mercy-'twas his last :
Ye-who beheld when Jesus died,
Say ye-for none can tell beside,
How matchless grace, and love divine,
In that immortal glance would shine.
And she too felt and owned its power
To soothe in that despairing hour;
Her pulse beat quick and to her heart
A ray of rapture seemed to dart :-
The cloud that hung upon her brow
Wore off and all was comfort now ;-
And why? she thought not on the dead-
Her sight on Him was riveted,

Whose look such peace and glory shed:-
So the wan captive, o'er whose cell
No solitary sunbeam fell;

When years and years have lingered by,
Restored to light and liberty,
Fixes his first enraptured gaze
Upon the bright sun's living rays.
• Short space he stood' his lifted eyes

To heaven a moment raised-he spoke-
These words the solemn silence broke:
Young man, I say to thee, arise!?

Where is thy victory, oh Death?

A nobler, mightier arm than thine
Has shook the dark abodes beneath,
And bade the grave her prey resign.
Jesus, thy victor and thy Lord,
Has rent thy once resistless sword:
Fell tyrant of the fatal brow,
Where are thy vaunted triumphs now

He moves he breathes he lives-he wakes-
Swift as the vivid lightning breaks
Through the black tempest's murky night,
His eye unclosed to life and light;
The crimson to his pale cheek rushed-
To his cold heart the life-blood gushed,
And circled quick through every vein,
And waked the fluttering pulse again.
Round his closed lips-still uneffaced
Had fixed the smile with which he died;
Death's marble look so well it graced,
One only charm seemed still denied---
'Twas life---and what are all beside?
Where is that mortal paleness filed?
Is that the cold smile of the dead?
Away! thou 'busy fiend' Despair,
'Tis life itself that kindles there.
'Tis life! by that almighty word
His mortal being is restored,
And reason flashes to his brain,
And mind and memory wake again.
Whate'er in other worlds he saw,

Man knows not---none can ever know---
But peace---and joy---and holy awe
Still lightened lingering on his brow,
And o'er his face a lustre shed---
Not of the living, or the dead.
Where am I? whither are ye fled
'Fair visions of celestial light,
That seem'd to hover o'er my head,
* Oh! bear me with you in your flight.
Can this be earth---and must I deem
''Twas all an unsubstantial dream?
"Tis strange---light faded from mine eye,
And on my brow such darkness fell
As none have ever lived to tell.

That last mysterious agony

Which throbs---and man has ceased to be:
The frame is clay---the soul is free.
I deemed this change had passed on me,
And my light spirit soared on high,
I know not where---from memory

All passed with life's returning breath;---
Yet still I feel if such be death,

"Tis blessedness to die.

But speak-what means this sable bier,
This funeral train---whence came I here?
Ha! thou too, mother---thou so near
And I beheld thee not---

*

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Did Nature's last convulsive thrill

Press heavy on her beating brow,
That gentle voice had soothed her still---
And yet she hears not---heeds not now---

She heard in hope, and holy dread,
The awful words that raised the dead:
She saw the spirit kindle o'er
His pale cold cheek---she saw no more---
Rushed she not forth to clasp her son?
No! to that high and holy One,
Urged with resistless zeal slie turned,
Her breast with strong emotions burned---
As lowly at his feet she knelt,
Well might her throbbing bosom melt
With faith and love, till now unfelt:

'Twas God himself she gazed upon.
Her favoured soul was given to see,
The pure incarnate Deity,
And speech, and sight, and spirit failed
Before the Godhead, though 'twas vailed.
Burning with gratitude and love,
For utterance long in vain she strove:
At length she spoke--- My God! my Lord!
'Oh! for that mercy all divine

Which deigned to visit guilt like mine,

Forever be thy name adored.
To thee let ransomed Zion bow,
Her King, her promised Saviour, Thou!"

LORD LYTTLETON.

LORD LYTTLETON died 1773, a firm believer in the Christian religion. Genuine faith in Christ is essential to our happiness in the present state, and in that which is to come. To give credit to his testimony, imbibe his spirit, rely on his righteousness, and obey his commands; these form the Christian character. How many, however, call themselves Christians, and yet are strangers to these principles; and alas! how many are disposed to reject the whole system of Christianity, although they have never closely examined its evidences. Let not, however, the humble inquirer despond; the enemies to Christianity may endeavour to throw objections in the way; but light shall increase; and truth shall be found by all who sincerely seek her. "When I first set out in the world (said Lord Lyttleton to his physician in his last illness) I had friends who endeavoured to stagger my belief in the Christian religion, but I kept my mind open to conviction. The evidences and doctrines of Christianity studied with attention, made me a most firm and persuaded believer of the Christian religion. I have made it the rule of my life, and it is the ground of my future hope." His Lordship's Treatise on the Conversion of the Apostle Paul is unanswerable.

CONFESSION OF LORD ROCHESTER.

ANTHENAGORAS, a famous Athenian philosopher, had entertained so unfavourable an opinion of the Christian religion, that he was determined to write against it; but upon an intimate inquiry into the facts on which it was supported, in the course of his collecting materials for his intended publication, he was convinced by the blaze of evidence in its favour, and turned his designed invective into an elaborate apology, which is still in being. Even the most profligate infidels havə been brought at last to own the truth

of Christianity. What a confession is that of Lord Rochester: "If God," says he, " should spare me a little longer time here, I hope to bring glory to his name, proportionably to the dishonour I have done to him in my whole past life, and particularly by my endeavours to convince others, and to assure them of the danger of their condition, if they continued impenitent, and to tell how graciously God hath dealt with me."

Ordination. At an ordination held on Sunday, March 14, at Christ Church, Philadelphia, by the Right Rev. Bishop White, Bird Wilson, A. M. of Pennsylvania, and William Wilson, A. B. of South-Carolina, were admitted to the holy order of Dea

cons.

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OBITUARY.

COMMUNICATED.

• We talk of heaven, we talk of hell,
But what we mean, no tongue can tell;
Heaven is a place where angels are,
And hell the chaos of despair;
Yet what those awful words imply,
None of us know until we die."

DIED, at Charleston, on a journey for his health, the Rev. WILLIAM H. NORTHROP, a Deacon of this Diocess. He was ordained by the Right Rev. Bishop HOBART, on Trinity Sunday, June 1st, 1817, in St. Paul's Chapel, New-York. Immediately after, by the recommendation of the Bishop, he took charge of the parish of St. Peter's Church, in Auburn. Here, by an intense application to study, and diligent discharge of parochial duties, he induced a consumptive disease, which terminated in dissolution. A young man, dear to his parents and friends, dear to the congregation who had been blessed with his ministerial labours, and dear to the Church in general, he will long be remembered and lamented. Seldom have we been

called to notice so promising a flower in the Church, blighted before it was full blown-possessing genius, education, and talents, which fitted him for usefulness, he adorned them by a piety and virtue, surpassed by that of few of the same age. Well instructed in the principles of the Church, and under the most thorough conviction

of their accordance with the Gospel, he was scrupulously exact in the observance of her requisitions, and in the respect and reverence due to her constituted authorities. He had a solidity and firmness of character, highly becoming the sacred office. As a man, he was respected and beloved, because amiable and sincere; and as a Christian minister, faithful, circumspect, and exemplary. He is gone. Thus doth the providence of God, in wisdom which we cannot comprehend, see fit to take from us the young as well as the aged. And thus, " in the midst of life we are in death." Blessed are those who, in "the communion of the Catholic Church," are met by death "in the confidence of a certain faith, in the comfort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope, in favour with God, and in perfect charity with the world." In such a state, we trust, the subject of these remarks, departed the present for a better

life.

DIED, in Maryland, the Rev. WLLIAM DUNCAN, Rector of Allhallows, Anne-Arundel, in that Diocess.

DIED, on the 5th March, at the Island of St. Thomas (where he went for the benefit of his health) Dr. JOHN C. OSBORN, late of this city. He was a native of Middletown, state of Connecticut, where his fa

ther, an eminent physician, still lives. Early in life, after having received his education under his father's care and direction, he settled at Newbern, N. Carolina, where, for many years, he practised physic very extensively, and with distinguished repu city, where he soon became equally eminent, and was universally considered as among the most learned and skilful member of the profession. In addition to a very thorough acquaintance with medical science, he possessed an extensive knowledge of general science and literature; and he may be considered as ranking high among the respectable scholars in our country. Few men have been more esteemDaily Adv.

From Newbern he removed to this

ed by their friends, or respected for their

talents and learning.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

An anonymous piece, occasioned by the Essay on "The Kiss of Charity," in our last number, is received, and under consideration.

The piece which we are requested to reprint from a Philadelphia newspaper, shall appear in our next.

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Memoirs of the late Rev. WILLIAM JONES, of Nayland: extracted from his Life by WILLIAM STEVENS, Esq.

(Continued from page 70, and concluded.) Ar the preaching of the first of these sermons, the audience was not large, but it increased annually, as the fame of the preacher "was nois ed abroad," whose manner was no less animated and engaging than the subject matter was profound and important, "bringing out of his treasure things new and old;" and, at the last Sermon, the Church was full. Satisfaction was visible in every countenance while he was preaching, and disappointment when he shut the book, as "sorrowing they were to hear no more."

This faithful Seer, lamenting the corruption of the times, and the prevalence of error, through the artifices and assiduity of sectaries, socinians, and infidels, had long meditated the establishment of a society for the Reformation of Principles, with a view to take such measures, in a literary way only, as should be most conducive to the preservation of our Religion, Government, and Laws; and, at last, in the year 1792, he flattered himself he had accomplished it. But to whatever cause it was owing, whether to the humble situation of the first mover-great abilities, and " an honest and good heart," apart from outward append ages of a dignified station, not being sufficient to recommend the plan-or to the little zeal of those who should have promoted the good work, it did not meet with the countenance and protection that might have been expected, but soon fell to the ground. VOL. III.

[VOL. III.

However, to his praise be it spoken, he did what he could. He wrote the prospectus, explaining the object of the society; he gave being to the British Critic; and he published, in two volumes, the Scholar Armed against the Errors of the Times. His Scholar Armed is a judicious well digested collection of invaluable tracts, intended for the information and as-, sistance of young students, excellently adapted to the purpose, and ought to be in the hands of every one.

Pro ecclesia Dei, pro ecclesia Dei, were the last words of Archbishop Whitgift. In life and in death, his chief care was for God's Church. So might it be said of this able defender of the household of faith. And his care for God's Church made him anxious for the success of that pure and reformed part of it, the not established Episcopal Church in Scotland, in their application to parliament for relief from the hard penalties under which they had long suffered. Through his acquaintance with one of the Bishops, with whom he had frequently corresponded, he was not an unconcerned spectator in the business.Though too inconsiderable in station to be of any immediate service, he rendered them mediately all the service in his power, and they had also his prayers-" The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." Their cause was heard, and they were relieved. What is now to be lamented is, that the English episcopally ordained clergy, who have chapels in Scotland, do not at once acknowledge the spiritual authority of the Bishop of the Diocess in which they reside. They must have very low imperfect notions of the Church

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of Christ, its nature and constitution, not to see that they are guilty of the sin of schism in not doing it, and their congregations must have been badly instructed, not to know they are involved in the same guilt in attending their ministrations. As to any interference on the part of the English Bishops, it would be a brutum fulmen; the English clergy when in Scotland, are out of their reach; they can do no more than Bishop Horne did, when he was applied to, which, no doubt, they all do, they can exhort the English clergy to be in communion with the Scotch Bishops, assuring them it would be their own practice in similar circumstances, being persuaded nothing would be required of them but what was necessary to maintain the order and unity of a Christian Church. In 1793, he published, in four numbers, The grand Analogy, or the Testimony of Nature and Heathen Antiquity to the Truth of a Trinity in Unity, and inscribed them to Bishop Horsley, as no less profoundly skilled in every branch of human learning, than well affected to every doctrine of the Christian Faith.

On the death of Bishop Horne, in 1792, this his afflicted Chaplain, out of dutiful and affectionate regard to the memory of the venerable prelate, his dear friend and patron, undertook the task, (I may add the painful task,) of recording his life; for the worthy Biographer must have felt what another friend would have done, had it fallen to his lot; who, having been amused with the Life of Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, written by his intimate friend and companion Walter Pope, used to say to him, "When you are a Bishop, I shall like to be your Walter Pope, in every particular except one, that of living to write your

life."

Past scenes the fancy wanders o'er, And sighs to think they are no more. It was published in 1795, and the second edition in 1799, with a new preface, containing a concise but clear exposition of the leading opinions entertained by Mr. Hutchinson on certain interesting points in theology and philosophy.

The life of a private country clergyman is not expected to abound with incidents. "One day telleth another." And happy the uniformity, when it consists in doing good. Such was that of the Minister of Nayland, who, to all his other knowledge, added the knowledge of medicine, to the benefit and comfort of his people, the sheep of his pasture. As Physician both of body and soul, "he bound up the broken-hearted, he gave medicine to heal. their sickness"" he went about doing good." But though the incidents to be related were few, his life was not without variety. He had an inexhaustible fund within himself. His talents being various, like those of his favourite author, the great Lord Bacon, his studies were various too : and the instruction of his pupils in the different branches of literature was not less entertaining to himself than edifying to them. It was often lamented by some of his friends, that he who was so fit to teach men, should have so much of his time taken up in teaching boys; but "there is a time to every purpose," and he found it."Are there not twelve hours in the day?" His engagements with pupils did not take him off from other pursuits, or from teaching men, as his numerous publications bear witness. When a person of great eminence in the Church, whose judgment might be relied on, and who knew Mr. Jones intus et in cute, was asked by a noble Lord, to whom he had been recommended, Whether he would be a proper tutor for his sons, previously to their going to the University? the answer was, "Your Lordship may think yourself happy if you can prevail on him to take them. He is every thing you could wish. Besides his extensive knowledge of all kinds, and his singular faculty of communicating to others what he knows, he is full of observation; nothing escapes him; the most common occurrences of life supply him with matter for improvement of the mind, and his conversation is remarkably lively and agreeable." And, to be sure, he so far discovered the philosopher's stone, that he had, beyond any man, the art of converting

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