fied in dreffing his pretty Plumes, or hopping carelefsly from Spray to Spray. A Sportsman coming by obferved 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 breathlefs on the Ground,Such, juch may be the Fate of the Man, who has a fair Occafion of obtaining Grace To-day; and wantonly poftpones the Improvement of it till To-morrow. He may be cut off in the Midft of his Folly; and ruined for ever, while he is dreaming of being wife hereafter.

On the Uncertainty of Life.

HERVEY.

How thin is the Partition between this World

and another! how fhort the Paffage from Time to Eternity! the Partition nothing more than the Breath in our Noftrils, and the Tranfition may be made in the Twinkling of an Eye. Poor Chremylus arofe from the Diverfion of the Card-Table and Dropt into the Dwellings of Darknefs.-One Night, Gorinna, was all Gaiety in her Spirits, all Finery in her Apparel, at a magnificent Ball. The next Night he lay pale and ftiff: an extended Corpfe, and ready to be mingled with the mouldering Dead. Young Atticus lived to fee his ample and commodious Seat compleated; but not to spend one joyous Hour under the stately Roof. The Safhes were hung to admit the Day; but the Mafter's Eyes are clofed in endless Night. The Apartments were furnished to invite Society, or adminifter Repofe; but their Lord refts in the lower Parts of the Earth,

in the folitary, filent Chambers of the Tomb. The Gardens were planned, and a thousand elegant Decorations defigned; but alas! their intended Poffeffor is gone down to "the Place of Skulls," is gone down to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Legions, Legions of Difafters fuch 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 burfts before the Storm, but breaks even at a Breeze. The moft common Occurrences, those from which we expect not the least Harm, may prove the Weapons of our Deftruction: 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 fo liable to be difpoffeffed of this Earthly Tabernacle, let us look upon ourselves only as Tenants at Will, and hold ourselves in perpetual Readiness to departata Moment's Warning.

The Emperor ADRIAN to his departing Soul.
Tranflated by Mr. POPE.

A

H fleeting Spirit! wand'ring Fire, That long haft warm'd my tender Breast, Muft thou no more this Frame infpire?

No more a pleafing, chearful Guest?

Whither, ah whither art thou flying!

To what dark undiscover'd Shore?
Thou seem'ft all trembling, fhivering, dying,
And Wit and Humour are no more!

The

The Dying Chriftian to his Soul.

VITAL Spark of Heavenly Flame!

Quit, oh quit this mortal Frame,
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the Pain, the Bliss of dying!
Ceafe, fond Nature, cease thy Strife,
And let me languish into Life.

Hark! they whisper; Angels fay,
Sifter Spirit come away."

What is this abforbs me quite?
Steals my Senfes, fhuts my Sight,
Drowns my Spirits, draws my Breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

The World recedes, it difappears!
Heaven opens on my Eyes! my Ears
With Sounds feraphic ring:

Lend, lend your Wings! I mount, I fly!
O Grave! where is thy Victory?
O Death! where is thy Sting?

EAVEN! that World of Blifs, that Region of

H 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 fome kind celeftial Hand draw afide the Veil, but for a Moment, and permit us to caft but a fingle Glance on thofe divine Abodes; how dull and infipid would the Poffeffions of this World inftantly appear? The Garden of

Para

Paradise itself, after fuch a Sight, would appear as a lonely Defart, 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 muft foon come to an End; and there remaineth fuch a Reft, fuch a blissful and everlafting Reft for the People of God; let me never be too fondly attached to any prefent Satisfactions. Weaned from whatever is temporal, may I maintain a perfect Indifference for all fuch transitory Enjoyments; but may I long, earneftly long for the Manfions that are above, the Paradife which the Lord hath planted, and not Man. Thither may I tran mit the Chief of my Converfation, and there expect the Whole of my Happiness.

ORI

ORIGINAL PIECES.

A MORNING SONG,

Being an Imitation, in Metre, of Milton's Morning

I.

Hymn.

ARENT of Good! Almighty God!

The pureft Light is thine Abode;

This univerfal Frame is thine,

And fpeaks thy Skill, and Power divine.

2. How rich thy Bounties, LORD, are spread?
Where'er we gaze, where'er we tread,
Thy varied Works all wond'rous are,
Thyfelf how much more wond'rous fair?

3. Ye Angels fpeak, pure Sons of Light,
For Him ye fee Day without Night,
Circling his Throne, with Joy ye raise
Your Voice harmonious to his Praise.

4. All ye in Heaven, on Earth join all,
And in your loftieft Strains extol
Him first, him last, and without End:
Whose Greatness none can comprehend.