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united the frailty of thy mortal nature to all the glories of his Godhead.

All the honour of this admirable establishment belongs to thy Ransom,-thy Surety,-thy Saviour-To him it belongs, who sustained the vengeance which thou hadst deserved and wast doomed to suffer;-who fulfilled the obedience which thou wast obliged, but unable to perform; -and who humbled himself to death,-even the death of the cross.

He formed this vast machine,-and adjusted its nice dependencies.-The pillars that support it; the embellishments that adorn it;-and the laws that govern it, are the result of his unsearchable counsels.

No bandit fierce,-no tyrant mad with pride,No cavern'd hermit, rests self satisfied.

These various news I heard of love and strife,Of peace and war,-health,-sickness,-death -and life,

Of loss and gain,—of famine, and of store—
Of storms at sea,—and travels on the shore-
Of prodigies, and portents seen in air-
Of fire and plagues,-and stars with blazing

Of turns of fortune,-changes in the state,-
The falls of favourites-projects of the great,—
Of old mismanagements,-taxations new,
All neither wholly false-nor wholly true.


Be it a weakness,-it deserves our praise,
We love the play-place of our early days,
The scene is touching,-and the heart is stone
That feels not at that sigh,-and feels at none.

The wall on which we tried our growing skill,--
The very name we carved-subsisting still;-
The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd-
Though mangled,-hack'd-and hew'd-not yet

The little ones unbuttoned,-glowing hot-
Playing our games,-and on the very spot;-
As happy as we once,-to kneel and draw
The chalky ring,-and knuckle down at taw;-
To pitch the ball into the grounded hat,-
Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat;-
The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That,-viewing it,-we seem almost to obtain
Our innocent,-sweet-simple years again.
This fond attachment to the well-known place,-
Whence first we started into life's long race-
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway-
We feel it even in age,-and at our latest day.


Is an opposition or contrast of subjects, by which their difference may appear more strongly. In reading this figure the contrast must be marked by different or emphatic tones of the voice,-sometimes by the rising or falling inflec


The rising inflection of the voice is a gradual increasing the loudness of it.-The falling inflection is a gradual decreasing the loudness of it.

(Particular emphasis must be laid on words printed in Roman Small Capitals.)

When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we leave them.

I have ever preferred cheerfulness to mirth.— The LATTER I consider as an act,-the FORMER as a habit of the mind.

MIRTH is short and transcient.-CHEERFULNESS fixed and permanent.

What THEY know by reading-1 know by action. They are pleased to SLIGHT my mean birth,-I DESPISE their mean characters.

Want of BIRTH and FORTUNE is the obtion against me;-want of personal worth against them.

Let usefulness and beneficence-not ostentation and vanity direct the train of your pursuits.

They who have nothing to GIVE, can often afford relief to others by imparting what they


Moral or religious instruction derives its efficacy, not so much from what men are taught to KNOW,―as from what they are brought to FEEL.

I have been young, and now I am old;-yet have I never seen the RIGHTEOUS forsaken-nor his SEED begging bread.

'That which was sown in WEAKNESS-is raised in all the vivacity of POWER.

That which is sown in DEFORMITY-is raised in the bloom of CELESTIAL BEAUTY.

If the body retires into the shadow of death, and lies immured in grave-it is only to return from a short CONFINEMENT-to endless LIBERTY.

If it falls into DISSOLUTION-it is in order to rise more ILLUSTRIOUS from its ruins.

As the lily pleases with the noble simplicity of its appearance-the tulip is admired for the gaiety and multiplicity of its colours.

Inscribe the memory of thy matchless beneficence-not with ink and PEN-but with that precious BLOOD which gushed from thy wounded veins. Engrave it,-not with the hammer and CHISEL, but with that sharpened SPEAR, which pierced thy wounded side. Let it stand conspicuous and indelible-not on outward tables of STONE,—but on the very inmost tables of the heart.

With the talents of an ANGEL-a man may be a FOOL.

A person may be cheerful among his friends, - and yet joyful in God.

He may taste the sweets of his earthly estate -and, at the same time, cherish his hopes of a nobler inheritance in heaven.

The trader may prosecute the demands of commerce-without neglecting to negociate the affairs of his salvation.

The warrior may wear his sword-may draw in a just cause that murderous weapon, and yet be a good soldier of Jesus Christ,- and obtain the crown that fadeth not away.

The parent may lay up a competent portion for his children-and not forfeit his titles to the treasures either of grace or of glory.

A soul as FULL of worth,-as VOID of pride, Which nothing seeks to shew,-or needs to hide, Which nor to guilt nor fear its caution owes, And boasts a warmth that from no passion flows.


All nature is but art,-unknown to thee,
All chance-direction which thou canst not see,
All discord,-harmony, not understood,
All partial EVIL,-universal GOOD.

And spite of pride,-in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear,-Whatever is,-is right.

Ill fares the land,-to hast'ning ills a prey,Where WEALTH accumulates,-and MEN decay, Princes and lords may flourish,-or may fade, A breath can make them,-as a breath has made. But a bold peasantry-their country's pride,When once DESTROYED,-can NEVER be supplied. GOLDSMITH.

But He,-our gracious Maker,-kind as just, Knowing our frame,-remembers man is dust. His spirit,-ever brooding o'er our mind,Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined;Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim, And fans the smoking flax into a flame


Yet taught by these,-confess th' Almighty just;And, where you can't unriddle,-learn to trust. PARNELL.

With distant voice neglected virtue calls,Less heard-and less,-the faint remonstrance falls;

Fir'd with contempt,-she quits the slipp'ry rein, And pride and prudence take her seat in vain. In crow'd at once,-where none the pass defend, The harmless freedom,-and the private friend.

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