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all your own; and enough to perplex your soul, and bow your neck till the day of your death; therefore pray; and get an answer from God, and he will direct you in the way you should go, Fare thee well.

Thy willing Servant in the gospel of the Lord,

W. H.

A

GOSPEL DRAUGHT

FROM

NATURE'S BREAST.

INTENDED FOR

RICKETTY CHILDREN.

"For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead," Rom. i. 20.

THE wheel of nature as she rolls, her strange revolving tour,
Her Fabricator's work unfolds, and shews his matchless pow'r;
The spacious earth and spreading clouds, proclaim his sov'reign sway,
And, all conceal'd in nature's shrouds, his potent will obey.

Could woods and groves but bear their part with my enraptur'd soul,
While wisdom to my worthless heart her mystic wraps unfold;
The day, the night, the heat, the cold, all magnify thy name,
Both heaven and earth, thy seat and stool, unite to spread thy fame.

ON DAY AND NIGHT.

"Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge; there is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard," Psalm xix. 2, 3.

Now sable night her veil has spread, bedeck'd with solemn gloom, Which shews the mansions of the dead, the sinner's endless doom; An emblem of my dreadful state, till sov'reign grace appear'd, Enrapt in crimes of deadly hate, against the storm prepar'd,

The spring of day begins to rise and chase the gloomy shade,
So light divine unveils the eyes and shews the dark parade;
The morning star, in bright array, portends the joyful morn;
So doth the star of endless day my sinful soul adorn.

His light reveals the gloomy path my stubborn spirit trod,
Obnoxious to vindictive wrath, and yet at war with God;

Each just reflection quick return'd, and brought some crime to light,
While direful vengeance rag'd and burn'd, and put all hope to flight.

What wretched state of deep distress! thus destitute of grace,
Yet skulking in some dark recess, to shun the Saviour's face;
Oh! had the Lord his mercy spar'd, and but conceal'd his light,
Then had my hopeless head been rear'd in everlasting night.

The rising sun shews his return, his warmer rays emit;
All nature would his absence mourn, if he should long retreat;
So doth the sun's Creator rise upon the fruitless soul,

Each parched pow'r receives supplies; he fructifies the whole,

ON THE OWL.

"I am like a pelican of the wilderness; I am like an owl of the desert," Psalm cii. 6.

"I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and cried in the congregation. I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls,” Job xxx. 28, 29.

THE nightly watchman of the wood, the grave majestie owl,
An emblem of the pensive mood of my dejected soul;
This lonely ranger don't presume to join the plumed choir,
His solemn note, so void of tune, no birds of song admire.

When day has left all nature mute, he makes his lonely moan;
Nor do you hear his solemn note till gloomy night comes on:
At break of day he quits his charge to those of higher sphere,
And leaves melodious birds at large to charm the list'ner's ear.

So doth the guilty sinner try to shun the rays of light,
And in his gloomy thoughts apply the sable vest of night;
With wounds immortal drove to seek some calm and lone retreat,
In pensive sadness low and meek to find the mercy-seat.

The vain and the unthinking herd his words and looks discard,
Involv'd in notions so absurd of social aid debarr'd:
But when the light divine appears he quits the dark recess,
And leaves his state of gloomy fears, to sing of sovereign grace.

ON EVERGREENS.

"The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree, and

the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious," Isa lx. 13.

"And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season: his leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper," Psalm i. 3.

THE lowly box and lofty pine their native garb possess,

Both cold and heat in vain combine to blast their verdant dress :
So shall my sacred root afford his branch a rich supply,

For, saith the everlasting Lord, Thy leaf shall never die.

The piercing hail and violent storm may wave the tow'ring top,
But if the root be good and firm the tree will still bear up;

Its life and strength in many a fold from human sight's conceal'd,
That while this root maintains its hold the tree can never yield.

My life divine is still secure in one immortal root,

And as the stock and root endure so must the leaf and fruit.
The husbandman so well contrives to spread the sap unseen,
That while the tree of life survives his branches must, be green.

The willow by the water-course receives supply and grows,
Each fibre draws from nature's source to feed the spreading boughs;
So stands the saint by Shiloh's flood and draws new life divine,
While faith and love root deep in God, and feed the heavenly mine.

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