In angel light array'd, beyond the stars, That active mind, intent on trifles here, Her love to me (how artless and fincere!) Ceafe, then, frail nature, to lament in vain, This bleffing quick recall'd, can Heav'n bestow, Know Know the fame God, who gave, hath tak'n away, And glad all heav'n with thy Creator's praise. } IF we are firmly refolved to live up to the dictates of reason, without any regard to wealth, reputation, or the like confiderations, any more than as they fall in with our principal defign, we may go through life with steadinefs and pleasure. But if we act by feveral broken views, and will not only be virtuous, but wealthy, popular, and every thing that has a value fet upon it by the world, we fhall live and die in mifery and repentance. INQUIRIES after happiness, and rules for attaining it, are not fo neceffary and useful to mankind, as the arts of confolation, and fupporting one's felf under afflic tion. The utmost we can hope for, in this world, is contentment; if we aim at any thing higher, we shall meet with nothing but grief and difappointments. A man should direct all his ftudies and endeavours, at mak ing himself eafy now, and happy hereafter. IT is of the laft importance to feafon the paffions of a child with devotion, which feldom dies in a mind that has received an early tincture of it. Though it may seem extinguished for a while by the cares of the world, the heats of youth, or the allurements of vice, it generally breaks out, and discovers itself again as foon as difcretion, confideration, age, or misfortunes, have brought the man to himself. The fire may be covered and overlaid, but cannot be entirely quenched and smothered. PURE devotion opens the mind to great conceptions, and fills it with more fublime ideas, than any that are to be met with in the most exalted science; and at the fame time warms and agitates the foul more than fenfual pleafure. IT is of unfpeakable advantage to poffefs our minds with an habitual good intention, and to aim all our thoughts, words, and actions, at the fame laudable end; the glory of our Maker, the good of mankind, and the benefit of our own fouls. SOCRATES, on the day of his execution, a little before the draught of poifon was brought to him, entertaining his friends with a difcourfe on the immortality of the foul, has these words: "Whether or no God will approve of my actions, I know not; but this I am fure of, that I have at all times made it my endeavour to pleafe him; and I have a good hope, that this my endeavour will be accepted by him,” H Y M N. WHEN rifing from the bed of death, I fee my Maker, face to face, If yet, while pardon may be found, My My heart with inward horror fhrinks, When thou, O Lord! fhalt ftand difclos'd In majefty fevere, And fit on judgment on my foul, Oh! how fhall I appear? But thou haft told the troubled mind, Shall endless woe prevent. Then fee the forrows of my heart, And hear my Saviour's dying groans, Who knows thine only Son has dy'd, To make her pardon fure. SELF-LOVE but ferves the virtuous mind to wake, Earth fmiles around, with boundlefs bounty bleft, IT may be laid down as a pofition, which will feldom deceive, that when a man cannot bear his own company, there is fomething wrong. He must fly from himself, either because he feels a tedioufnefs in life from the equipoife of an empty mind, which, having no tendency to one motion, more than another, but as it is impelled by fome external power, muft always have recourfe to foreign objects; or he must be afraid of the intrusion of fome unpleafing ideas, and is, perhaps, ftruggling to ǝscape from the remembrance of a lofs, the fear of a calamity, or fome other thought of greater horror. efcape CAN a mortal look down, without giddinefs and Atupefaction, into the vast abyfs of Eternal Wisdom? Can a mind, that fees not infinitely, perfectly comprehend any thing among an infinity of objects mutually relative? Remember, that perfect happiness cannot be conferred on a creature, for perfect happiness is an attribute as incom municable, as perfect power and eternity. Extract from Cowper's Poem called the Task. -DETESTED Sport! That owes its pleasures to another's pains; To thy ftraw couch, and flumber unalarm'd; *From Cooper's Poems, in 2 vols. 8vo,-published by J. Johnfon, St. Paul's Church-yard; alfo fold by the printer hereof, price 3s in boards. CRUEL |