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List of Lectures in and near London, for January.
1. Tu. m. Broad Street, Dr. Fisher. 2. Wed. er. Prayer-Meeting for the Nation, Dr. Rippon's.
3. Th. v. Fetter Lane, Mr. Ford.Evil-Speaking.
13. LORD'S DAY ev. Broad Street,
Mr. Hughes; Devonshire Sq.
Mr. Gould; Hare Court, Mr.
15. Tu. m. Broad Street, Mr. Goode.
I Wed. er. Prayer-Meeting for the
Nation, Mr. Goode's.
17. Th. er. Fetter Lane, Mr. Clayton. Religious Affections.
20. LORD'S DAY ev. Broad Street, Mr. Gaffee; Devonshire Sq. Dr. Jenkins; Hare Court, Mr. Thorp. 22. Tu. m. Broad Street, Mr. Clayton. 23. Wed. ev. Prayer Meeting for the Nation, Mr. Button's.
24. Th. ev. Fetter Lane, Mr. Hughes. Life a Pilgrimage.
MINISTERS SUPPLYING AT
The Tabernacle and Tottenham, Mr.
Moody, of Warwick.
Spa Fields, Mr. Charles, of Bala.
Sion Chapel, Mr. Brown.
Hoxton Academy Chapel, Mr.Hordle, of
Harwich, the 6th and 13th; Mr. Slat-
terie, of Chatham, the 20th and 27th.
Monthly Lectures at Manchester, 1805.
On Erroneous Opinions in Religion.
Excellency of the Knowledge of Christ.
The Sinner's Warrant to believe in Christ.
The Influences of the Spirit.
On making a Proficiency in Religious Moseley Str.
June 5. On Religious Zeal.
July 3. The Christian Warfare.
Aug. 7. The almost Christian.
Sept. 4. On Worldly Conformity.
The Sanctification of the Sabbath.
Nov. 6. The Tendency of Infidelity.
Dec. 4. The Pleasantness of Religion.
Bradley Roby Bradley Jack Bradley Roby Jack Bradley Jack Roby
Missionary Prayer Meetings in and near London, 1805.
MISSIONARY COLLECTIONS, &c.
Rev. E. Charter and Congregation, Kibworth, Leicestershire From an Anonymous Friend, as " A Token of her Love to the Lord Jesus Christ"
Bat thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail. — Ps. cii. 27.
ANCIENT of Days, thou lofty one
Whom finite spirits dimly see,
How shall a worm approach thy throne
And offer fitting praise to thee!
Our vanish'd years and passing hours
Remind us of our swift decline:
How short a space of time is ours!
What vast eternity is thine!
How floating massy worlds of light
Roll at thy word around their spheres, To form our seasons, day and night,
And measure out our fleeting years! Unerring, through the trackless void
Their circling mazes they explore; And shall, till by that voice destroy'd That speaks, and time shall be no more!
When Death shall assail,
And bow me to dust,
Along the dark vale
On thee will I trust;
Thy prescuce can cheer me,
And banish the gloom;
For thou wilt be near me,
And bring me safe home!
The Season of the Year described-The Magazine and its Contents-Reflections-
WIDE o'er the frost-bound fields, where lately wav'd
The green, luxuriant ear, stern Winter spreads
His desolating sway, and pours around,
Fierce and resistless, all his stormy horrors.
Heavy the clouds hang o'er the lowring east,
Where morning lingers, as afraid to ope
Her lucid gates, and pour th' unwilling day
Upon a scene so dreary; not as late
She smil'd meck on the joyous Sun, who shone
Bright as a bridegroom issuing from his chamber,
Pleas'd to describe his circuit thro' the sky:-
A summer's sky unclouded, and serene.
Tears stain her face, disfigur'd and impure
With heavy-beating tempests, or obscur'd
By hoary snow, whose fleecy show'r falls soft
And silent, as the stealing foot of time.
So looks the morning of the new-born year,
As if she wept for follies of the past,
And call'd unthinking man to pause, and shed
Repentant sorrows o'er his closing days!
With the first glimm'rings of this op'ning year
Arise its duties - - and a various lot
Will mark cach chequer'd life, as the pale moon
Wanes, or replenishes her changing orb;
And while I hail its birth, before its close
These eyes may slumber, and this body rest
With many a friend already gone before,
Still and forgotten in th' oblivious tomb.
The past demands reflection; and to aid
The solemn hour of faithful thought, behold
A Monthly Monitor presents its page,
Chequer'd with many a truth, in humble guise,
And fill'd with news domestic, far remov'd
From the loud clamours of these jarring times.
While others trace, with prying eye intent,
The politics chaotic of this world,
Let me turn o'er the page of Peace:
The lines that boast a brother's woe, and tell
Of thousands dying by the scourge of war;
Or, wheim'd beneath the briny wave, cut off
In search of wealth, or service of ambition,
With "all their imperfections on their head.”-
First on the page some friendly hand inscribes
A short memorial, as a parting tribute
To the remembrance of some faithful preacher,
Who, having serv'd his day, is gone to rest.
* The Evangelical Magazine.
Succeeding Essays, on some gospel truth,
In various style, confirm the pleasing fact
That men of diff'rent talents have one aim,
And, warm in the Redeemer's cause, their force
Concentrate, to support his reign against
The armies that oppose the living God,
A motley group succeeds; and the full page
Teems with Intelligence from lands remote,
Wafted across the swelling wave; or sent
From various parts of Britain's favour'd isle!
'Tis here, with rapture and delight, we read
How Vanderkemp *, with ever-burning zeal,
Amid the barb'rous tribes, proclaims the name
Of Him, the Prince of Peace, who bled and dy'd !---
With an apostle's heart, he weeps amid
The desolations of the fall; and blows
The gospel-trump, whose sweet and silver sound
Invites the weary wand'rers home to God.
Nor burning sun, nor rage of man, nor fears,
Nor threats, nor death (tho' death impend) can move
Or shake the purpose of his stedfast soul! —
From islands slumb'ring on the bosom wide
Of the South Sea †, we sometimes hear a note
Of comfort, floating o'er the trembling wave,
That bids us hail (distant perhaps the day)
Th' approaching æra, ardently desir'd,
When the wild savage shall forget to kill;
And from the fierce unpitying eye shall fall
Some gracious drops repentant, while the tale
Of love divine melts down his stony heart!
How long, O Prince of Peace and Life, delay
Thy chariot-wheels? — Break from the cloud of night,
O sacred Morn! whose noon-tide splendor oft
Has fill'd the mouth of Prophecy; and soon,
With thy mild radiance, bless th' expecting world!
Nor less the int'rest which the tale awakes
Of News Domestic. Here I read with joy
The useful labours of some kindred soul,
Some fellow-student, who the hill of Science
With me ascended,
And distant far; my heart with fondness cleaves
To the remembrance of departed joys,
And hails th' acceptance of my Jonathan.
Sometimes the notes of Death, heavy and slow,
Break on the ear; and while the conscious heart
Beats high with pleasure as I fondly read
A brother's Ordination, the next page
Is fraught with woe: I learn some friend has pass'd
The vale of Death, and left me all alone,
To tread, with weary steps, this Vale of Tears!
So fled thy spirit, Hunter, from this earth;
Far from thy friend thy parting sigh was breath'd!
The consolation was to me deny'd
REFLECTIONS ON THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE YEAR
Now have the winged monitors of Time,
Revolving Seasons, run their ample round,
And clos'd the year: clos'd not in vain to them
Who, as the fleeting moments pass'd away,
Watch'd and improv'd to their eternal gain
The sliding treasure! But, ah! - my muse,
To think of those who lost in Pleasure's train,
Unheeded let the year steal silent on;
Nor to Reflection's voice e'er lent an ear!
Be wise, ye sons of Folly, slaves of Mirth,
Attend that voice which, from the flight of time,
Aloud proclaims, "To meet thy God prepare !”-
How many changes one short year produces!
Nunibers, who at the dawn of this, enjoy'd
Prosperity's fair smile, and bless'd their lot,
Nor fear'd reverse, feel now, the iron hand
Of stern Adversity; and pine with want
And pain midst mortal ills, -a frightful band!
Others, who rank`d as low in Misery's vale,
Nor hop'd for better days, now rais'd to taste
Earth's richest blessings; and enjoy, midst smiles
And laughing friends around, the op'ning year!
Nor these alone ;-empires their changes feel.
Happy for Britain, still her God safe keeps
Her from Oppression's cruel grasp! And may
He stil preserve, while tyrants frown in vain!
Shook by Time's hand, the stately edifice,
That long defy'd the wintry blast, nods from
Its centre, and, with hideous ruin, threatens
All below it. The solid mountain, and
The deep-fixt rock, that rears its head aloft
Amid the bellowing waves, stand not unmark'd.
Mortals, who feel Time's desolating sway!
My heart in sorrow bleeds, as o'er Death's register
1 cast my eye:- Some, torn from life ere they
To life attain'd; others, snatch'd from the bloom
Of health and smiling friends, and partner dear,
To mingle with the solitary dead!
Statesmen, and beroes, and the pious man
Whose sole ambition was to please his God,
Call'd from Life's busy shining scenes they sleep,
And, undistinguish'd, feast the greedy worin!
But why, o'er human frailty do I weep?
Why heaves the bursting sigh at the review
Of that wide devastation which prevails
O'er all the works of inan and face of Nature?
It must be so, my soul. Heav'n has decreed,
That all things here below shall have an end!
Yes, I must soon — (ah! who can tell how soon
On all terrestrial objects close my eyes,
And in the clay-cold grave forgotten lie!
Jesus, O save me in the solemn hour
Of Death! If say'd by thee, I cannot lie
Long vanquish'd! At thy call the rending earth
Shall yield me from her teeming womb, uprais'd
To live and reign in happiness complete!
When he who moves th' circling seasons round,
Shall stop the wheels of Time, and bid them roll no more!
Printed by G. AULD, Greville Street, London.