[From Mifs A. Bolton, to the Rev. J. Wefley.]

Jan. 29, 1783.

Rev. and dear Sir,

HOW

OW can I but be gratefully affected toward the author of my mercies, when I confider the great things he has done for me! He has fhewn me many troubles, of different kinds, but in all, and through all, his own right hand hath upheld me, and brought me deliverance. I am persuaded, that whatever concerns me is under the direction and guidance of divine Providence; and that he difpofes all in fuch a way, as will most advance or promote my felicity.

I feel, bleffed be God, that the fevere exercifes he has led me through have taught me a more simple steady reliance upon him, and the word of his truth. I feem to have gained a greater intimacy and holy familiarity with him; in short, I can with greater confidence claim him as my covenant God. I know I have an intereft in all his promifes, by virtue of my intereft in the Redeemer's merits. My foul is fweetly delivered from all anxious fears, and cares. I think I never felt my mind fo deeply affected with defire for the promotion of the gofpel as of late. The promises of God, refpe&ting it, are very precious to me, and are frequently afforded me with a péculiar unction of the fpirit. My foul rejoices in hope of seeing the inhabitants of Zion increasing day by day.

I have also lately found ftronger defires of being useful, and have been much quickened to improve myself in fuch knowledge as will beft fit me for that purpose; my defires and views of this kind have been very affecting. In this large family, duty to it, and the calls of business allow me very little time in the day for retirement; I therefore rife about five (and I hope Atrictly

ftrictly to adhere to it) and make me a little wood fire in my room, and comfortably and quietly enjoy my morning.

I have thought of late, that it is a very great privilege to furnish the mind with useful knowledge, not only as it refpects the prefent life, or the service we might render our fellow creatures: but as it enlarges the faculties of the foul, gives it juster views of things, and I fuppofe, prepares it for greater enjoyment of the beatifick vifion. I fhall be greatly obliged to you for a few thoughts on this fubjoĉt. I have given you the two urging motives for my endeavouring after improvement; to make me useful here, and fit me for eternal enjoyments; both which, I apprehend, include the glory of God. I am, dear Sir, your much obliged and affectionate fervant,

A. B.

On MATT. v. ver. 48.-Be ye perfect, [Ye shall be perfect, Gr.]

'OULD'ST thou require what cannot be ?
The thing impoffible to me

WOULD'ST thou

Is poffible to God:

I trust thy truth to make me juft,
Th' omnipotence of love I truft,
The virtue of thy blood.

1

And when I have the battle won,
Thou in thy precious felf alone
Shalt give the prize at last.

If taught of him I understand

My Saviour's most benign command,
I shall be fully blest:

True is the promise of my Lord;
The duty is it's own reward,

And crown of all the reft.

"Ye fhall be perfect here below :"
He speaks it, and it must be fo;
But firft, he faid, Be poor;

Hunger and thirst; repent and grieve;
Be humble, meek, obedient live,

And labour, and endure.

Thus, thus may I the prize purfue,
And th' appointed paths pafs through
To perfect poverty ;

Thus let me, Lord, thyself attain,
And give thee up thine own again,
Abforb'd and loft in thee.

An ODE to WISDO M.

HE folitary bird of night,

THE

Through the thick fhade now wings his flight,

And quits his time-shook tow'r;

Where shelter'd from the blaze of day,

In philofophic gloom he lay,

Beneath his ivy bow'r.

Within I hear a folemn found,

Which midnight echoes waft around,
And fighing gales repeat:
Fav'rite of Pallas! I attend,

And faithful to the fummons bend,
At Wisdom's awful seat.

She loves the cool, the filent eve,
Where no false joys of life deceive,
Beneath the lunar ray;

Here folly drops her vain disguise,
Nor fpreads her guilty colour's dyes,
As in the blaze of day.

The breath inspires the poet's song,
The patriot's free unbias'd tongue,
The hero's gen'rous ftrife:
Thine are retirement's filent joys,
And all the sweet engaging ties,
Of ftill domestic life.

No more to fabl'd` names confin'd,
To the fupreme, all-perfect mind,
My thought directs her flight;
Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force,
From thee deriv'd! Eternal source
Of intellectual light!

O fend her fure, her steady ray,
To regulate my doubtful way,
Through life's perplexing road;
The mists of error to control,
And through its gloom direct my foul,
To happiness and good!

On

On the CONVERSION of GALEN.

ORBEAR, vain man! to launch with reason's eye,

FOR

Through the vast depths of dark immenfity:

Nor think thy narrow, but prefumptuous mind
The leaft idea of thy God can find :

Thought crowding thought distracts thy lab'ring brain;

For, how can finite infinite explain !

Then God adore, and confcious reft in this,

None, but himself, can paint him as he is.

EPITAPH

On the Rev. Mr. SAMUEL LOVE, M. A. Fellow of Baliol College, OXFORD, who died October 18, 1773, aged 29.

W

[By Mifs Hannah More.]

HEN worthless grandeur fills th' embellish'd urn,
No poignant grief attends the fable bier:

But when diftinguifh'd excellence we mourn,
Deeep is the forrow, genuine is the tear.

Stranger! fhould't thou approach this awful fhrine,
The merits of the honour'd dead to feek:

The friend, the fon, the Chriftian, the divine,

Let those who knew him, those who lov'd him, fpeak.

Oh! let them, in fome paufe from anguish, fay
What zeal inspired, what faith enlarg'd his breaft; *
How foon th' unfetter'd fpirit wing'd its way

From earth to heaven, from bleffing to be bleft!