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My ancestors are turn'd to clay,

And many of my mates are gone;
My youngers daily drop away;
And can I think to 'scape alone ?

No, no, I know that all must die,
And yet my life amend not I!

If none can ’scape death's dreadful dart;

If rich and poor his beck obey,
If strong, if wise, if all do smart,
Then I to 'scape shall have no way.

O grant me grace, O God, that I
My life may mend, sith I must die.



How quickly do the Sabbaths return; those seasons of rest and spiritual confort! A seventh part of our time on earth is taken from the days of toil and care, and blessed and sanctified by the God of all goodness, for the recreation and benefit of our souls, and that we may have a foretaste of heavenly bliss. You may assure yourselves, that there is no pleasure to be found in this world, eqnal to what arises from the religious observance of the Sabbath-day; and if you once get into a habit of keeping it holy, you will never wish to pass it in a profane, wicked manner; you will find by the peace and comfort you will enjoy in it, that God hath really blessed it. With what delight do sincere worshippers go to the house of God! with what humility do they bow down before him! how fervently do they implore his favour and protection ! how heartily do they bless and praise his holy name! with what attention do they hearken to the instruction of the preacher! what pious resolutions do they form! how cheerfully do they return to their houses, assured of receiving the blessings they have asked, because God has promised thena in the Scriptures! how peacefully do they close their eyes at night! how calm are their slumbers ! how refreshed do they arise in the morning, to pursue their labours. For six days they will do all manner of work that is required of them, longing for the return of that day which is esteemed by them the best of all the

These are some of the advantages which are enjoyed by the people of God—that is to say, by those who honour him as their Creator and Governor.

Mrs Trimmer's Life.



Beauty born of heavenly race.
Beauty (daughter of marvel), O see how
Thou canst disgracing sorrows sweetly grace,
What power thou show'st in a distressing brow,
That mak'st affliction fair, giv'st tears their grace.
What? can untresséd locks, can torn, rent hair,
A weeping eye, a wailing face, be fair ?
I see the artless feature can content,
And that true Beauty needs no ornainent.



The heavens on high perpetually do move;
By minutes meal the hour doth steal away,
By hours the days, by days the months remove,
And then by months the years as fast decay;
Yea, Virgil's verse and Tully's truth do say,
That Time flieth, and never claps her wings;
But rides on clouds, and forward still she flings.



There are sicknesses that walk in darkness, and there are exterminating angels, that fly wrapped up in the curtains of immateriality and an uncommunicating nature; whom we cannot see, but we feel their force, and sink under their sword, and from heaven the veil descends that wraps our heads in the fatal sentence. There is no age of man but it bath proper to itself some posterns and the outlets for death, besides those infinite and open ports out of which myriads of men and women every day pass into the dark, and the land of forgetfulness. Infancy hath life but in effigy, or like a spark dwelling in a pile of wood; the candle is so newly lighted, that every little shaking of the taper, and every ruder breath of air, puts it out and dies. Childhood is so tender, and yet so unwary; so soft to all the impressions of chance, and yet so forward to run into them, that God knew there could be no security without the care and vigilance of an angel keeper; and the eyes of parents and the arms of nurses, the provisions of art and all the effects of human love and providence, are not sufficient to keep one child from horrid mischiefs, from strange and early calamities and deaths, unless a messenger be sent from heaven to stand sentinel, and watch the very playings and sleepings, the eatings and drinkings of the children; and it is a long time before nature makes them capable of help; for there are many deaths, and very many diseases to which poor babes are exposed; but they have but very few capacities for physic; to show that infancy is as liable to death as old age, and equally exposed to danger, and equally incapable of a remedy; with this only difference, that old age hath diseases incurable by nature, and the diseases of childhood are incurable by art; and both the states are the next heirs of death.

Jeremy Taylor.


Even such is time, that takes on trust

Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust,

Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wander'd all our ways,

Shuts up the story of our days !
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up I trust ?

Sir W. Raleigh.



This same
Which we call death, the soul's release from wo,
The work which brings our bliss to happy frame:
Seldom arrests the body, but we find
Some notice of it written in our mind.

Markha n.


Time was upon
The wing, to fly away,

And I callid on
Him but awhile to stay;

But he'd be gone,
For ought that I could say.

He held out then
A writing as he went,

And askt me, when
False man would be content

To pay again
What God and nature lent.

An hour-glass,
In which were sands but few,

As he did pass,
He show'd, and told me too,

Mine end near was,
And so away he flew.


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