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fied in dresing his pretty Plumes, or hopping carelessly from Spray to Spray. A Sportsman coming by observed the feather'd Rover, and immediately lifts the Tube, and levels his Blow. Swifter than Whirlwind flies the leaden Death, and in a Moment lays the filly Creature breathless on the Ground, Such, such may be the Fate of the Man, who has a fair Occasion of obtaining Grace To-day; and wantonly postpones the Inprovement of it till To-morrow. He may be cut off in the Midst of his Folly ; and ruined for ever, while he is dreaming of being wise hereafter.
On the Uncertainty of Life.
How thin is the Partition between this World
and another! how short the Passage from Time to Eternity! the Partition nothing more than · the Breath in our Nostrils, and the Transition may be made in the Twinkling of an Eye. Poor Chrimylus arose from the Diversion of the Card-Table and Dropt into the Dwellings of Darkness.-One Night, Gorinna, was all Gaiety in her Spirits, all Finery in her Apparel, at a magnificent Ball. The next Night the lay pale and stiff: an extended Corpse, and ready to be mingled with the mouldering Dead. Young Atticus lived to see his ample and commodious Seat compleated; but not to spend one joyous Hour under the stately Roof. The Sashes were hung to admit the Day; but the Master's Eyes are closed in endless Night. The Apartments were furnished to invite Society, or adminiiter Repose ; but their Lord rests in the lower Parts of the Earth,
in the folitary, filent Chambers of the Tomb. The Gardens were planned, and a thousand elegant Decorations designed; but alas! their intended Possessor is gone down to “the Place of Skulls,” is gone down to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Legions, Legions of Disasters such as no Prudence can foresee, and no Care prevent, lie in wait to accomplish our Doom.
So frail, fo extremely fine is the Thread of Life, that it not only bursts before the Storm, but breaks even at a Breeze. The most common Occurrences, those from which we expect not the least Harm, may prove the Weapons of our Destruction : Nay our very Comforts may become killing. The Air we breathe may be our Bane ; and the Food we eat the Vehicle of Death. Since then we are so liable to be dispossessed of this Earthly Tabernacle, let us look upon ourselves only as Tenants at Will, and hold ourselves in perpetual Readiness to depart at a Moment's Warning.
The Emperor ADRIAN to his departing Soul.
Translated by Mr. Pope.
That long haft warm'd my tender Breast,
No more a pleasing, chearful Guest?
To what dark undiscover'd Shore?
The Dying Christian to his Soul.
Quit, oh quit this mortal Frame,
Hark! they whisper; Angels fay,
The World recedes, it disappears!
EAVEN! that World of Bliss, that Region of
Light and Happiness, O! what Pencil can sketch out a Draught of that goodly Land? What Tongue can express the incomparable Splendor of Christ's Kingdom? Would some kind celestial Hand draw afide the Veil, but for a Moment, and permit us to cast but a single Glance on those divine Abodes; how dull and insipid would the Possessions of this World instantly appear? The Garden of
Paradise itself, after such a Sight, would appear as a lonely Desart, and all earthly Charms as a World of Pain, Very excellent things are spoken of thee, thou City of God. Volumes have been written to display the Wonders of thy Perfections. All that is rich and splendid in this visible Creation has been called in to aid our Conceptions, and elevate our Minds.
But alas! no Tongue can utter, no Pen can describe, no Fancy can imagine what God of his unbounded Goodness, has prepared for them that love him.Seeing then, that all earthly Things must foon come to an End; and there remaineth such a Reft, such a blissful and everlasting Rest for the People of God; let me never be too fondly attached to any present Satisfactions. Weaned from whatever is temporal, may I maintain a perfect Indifference for all fuch transitory Enjoyments; but may I long, earnestly long for the Manfions that are above, the Paradise which the Lord hath planted, and not Man. Thither may I transmit the Chief
of my Conversation, and there expect the Whole of my Happiness.
A MORNING SONG, Being an Imitation, in Metre, of Milton's Morning
ARENT of Good! Almighty Gop!
The purest Light is thine Abode;
2. How rich thy Bounties, Lord, are spread ?
Where'er we gaze, where'er we tread,
3. Ye Angels speakpure Sons of Light,
For Him ye fee Day without Night,
4. All ye in Heaven, on Earth join all,
And in your loftiest Strains extol