fpeaks, and it is done: He commands, and it ftands faft: He fays, I will, be thou clean," and immediately the leprofy of Sin departs: "I am thy Salvation,"-and we are faved to the uttermoft, "Behold! I make all things new," and lo! a new Creation of pure light, life, love, peace, joy, harmony and heaven, arifes in the foul. And Oh! what matter of thankfulness and praife, that this Salvation is the privilege of every child of God: "That he gave himself for us, to redeem us from all iniquity and purify us unto himself a peculiar people; " and that he is conti nually faying unto us all, Be ye holy, for I am holy. Happy, thrice happy are the people who are in fuch a cafe. "Who is like unto them, a people faved of the Lord?" Glory be to God, this Salvation is to my foul more defirable than gold, and sweeter far than the honey-comb. The image of the bleffed Jefus appears infinitely amiable. Its divine beauty captivates my heart, I hardly know what part of his fair character, which feature in his heavenly countenance, to admire moft: His deep Humility, which made him not only to take upon him the form of a Servant, but content to be a Worm and no man; his perfect refignation, which made the Will of his heavenly Father fo welcome and delightful to him, even in his bittereft agony; his lamb-like patience, which all the contradiction, fury, and barbarous cruelty of his bittereft enemies could extort nothing feverer from, than "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do;" or his infinitely tender love and compaffion for his poor, wretched, perifhing creatures, which moved him, after he had laboured early and late, in public and in private, for their good;-after he had poured out cries and prayers, for whole nights together, in their behalf, to go, and pour out all his blood, and lay down his precious life on the crofs, to redeem and fave them. Well might St. Paul fay, "Put ye on the Lord Jefus Chrift." Oh! my bleeding, loving Lord, help me to put thee on! Let me be filled and clothed with thee. Be thou my All in All; for then, and only then, fhall I be a perfect Chriftian, throughly furnished unto all good works. T. R. CHARITY and PHILOSOPHY UNITED A H! what are honour, virtue, fame, But cunning fictions of difguife, And what is friendship, but a name Tem TH Ten years thrice told, in vain I've fought, 'Twas thus in melancholy gloom, Complain'd of Man, and figh'd, and mourn'd, With heart confuming rage. Come, vice, he faid, poffefs my heart, When lo! an heav'nly nymph appear'd, Ten thousand graces round her play'd, He gaz'd, he trembled;-fond furprise Oh! would't thou come with me, he faid, My name is CHARITY, faid the; Her charms bade all his fortows ceafe, JAMES LYONS, VERSES WRITTEN BY A YOUNG LADY. : HOU Power fupreme! by whofe command I live, And all thofe joys which from that Being flow. Teach Teach me betimes to tread thy facred ways, And warn my foul to fhun the Tempter's snare ; Give me a mind that nobly can despise And blefs the bounteous Hand from whence they flow Let not its terrors tempt me to despair; And own all good... which thy decrees ordain. WRITTEN Under an HOUR GLASS, in a Grotto, near a ftream of Water. THIS HIS babbling ftream not uninftructive flows;--- Each flower it feeds that on its margin grows, |