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the same time is passing in the heart. We know that there are people, who seldom smile when they are alone, who therefore are glad to hide themselves in a throng from the violence of their own reflections; and who, while by their looks and their language they wish to persuade us they are happy, would be glad to change their conditions with a dog. But in defiance of all their efforts, they continue to think, forebode, and tremble. This we know, for it has been our own state, and therefore we know how to commiserate it in others. From this state the Bible relieved us - When we were led to read it with attention, we found ourselves described.--We learnt the causes of our inquietude-we were directed to a method of relief-We tried, and we were not disappointed.
Deus nobis hæc otia fecit.
We are now certain, that the Gospel of Christ is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth. It has reconciled us to God, and to ourselves, to our duty and our situation. It is the balm and cordial of the present life, and a sovereign antidote against the fear of death.
Sed hactenus hæc. Some smaller pieces upon less important subjects close the volume. Not one of them, I believe, was written with a view to publication, but I was unwilling they should be omitted.
JOHN NEWTON. Charles Square, Hoxton,
February 18, 1782.
Si te fortè mec gravis uret sarcina chartæ,
Hor. Lib. I. Epist. 13.
A. You told me, I remember, glory, built. On selfish principles, is shame and guilt; The deeds, that men admire as half divine, Stark naught, because corrupt in their design. Strange doctrine this! that without scruple tears The laurel that the very lightning spares; Brings down the warrior's trophy to the dust, And eats into his bloody sword like rust.
B. I grant that, men continuing what they are, Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war. And never meant the rule should be applied To him, that fights with justice on his side.
Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews,
But let eternal infamy pursue
Then view him self-proclaim'd in a gazette
The globe and sceptre in such hands misplac'd, · Those ensigns of dominion, how disgrac'd!
The glass, that bids man mark the fleeting hour, And Death's own sithe would better speak his
pow'r; Then grace the bony phantom in their stead With the king's shoulderknot and gay cockade; Clothe the twin brethren in each other's dress, The same their occupation and success.
A. Tis your belief the world was made for man; Kings do but reason on the selfsame plan: Maintaining yours, you cannot theirs condemn, Who think, or seem to think, man made for them.
B. Seldom, alas! the pow'r of logic reigns With much sufficiency in royal brains ; Such reas’ning falls like an inverted cone, Wanting its proper base to stand upon. Man made for kings! those optics are but dim, That tell you somsay, rather, they for him. That were indeed a king-ennobling thought, Could they, or would they, reason as they ought.