He is the Freeman whom the Truth makes Free.

HE is the freeman whom the truth makes free,

And all are slaves beside! There's not a chain,
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm,
Can wind around him, but he casts it off
With as much ease as Samson his green withes.
He looks abroad into the varied field

Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say-" My Father made them all!"
WILLIAM COWPER.

I sought Thee round, Thou,
my God!

SOUGHT Thee round about, O Thou, my God!
In thine abode.

I said unto the Earth, "Speak, art thou He?"
She answered me,

"I am not."—I inquired of creatures all

In general

Contained therein;-they with one voice proclaim That none amongst them challenged such a name.

I asked the seas, and all the deeps below,
My God to know:

I asked the reptiles, and whatever is
In the abyss-

Even from the shrimp to the leviathan,

Inquiry ran;

But in those deserts which no line can sound,
The God I sought for was not to be found.

I asked the air if that were He? but

I, from the towering eagle to the wren,
Demanded then

If any feathered fowl 'mongst them were such?
But they all, much

Offended with my question, in full quire Answered-"To find thy God thou must look higher."

I asked the heavens, sun, moon, and stars, but they Said, "We obey

The God thou seek'st."-I asked, what eye or ear
Could see or hear;

What in the world I might descry or know,
Above, below:

With an unanimous voice all these things said, "We are not God, but we by Him were made.”

I asked the world's great universal mass,
If that God was;

Which, with a mighty and strong voice replied,
As stupefied,

"I am not He, O man! for know that I By Him on high,

Was fashioned first of nothing, thus instated And swayed by Him, by whom I was created."

I sought the court; but smooth-tongued flattery

there

Deceived each ear;

In the thronged city there was selling, buying,
Swearing and lying;

I' the country, craft in simpleness arrayed:
And then I said,

"Vain is my search, although my pains be great, Where my God is, there can be no deceit."

A scrutiny within myself I then,
Even thus began:

"O man, what art thou?"-What more could I say Than, Dust and clay ?

Frail, mortal, fading, a mere puff, a blast,
That cannot last;

Enthroned to-day, to-morrow in an urn;
Formed from that earth to which I must return.

I asked myself what this great God might be
That fashioned me?

I answered-The all-potent, solely immense,
Surpassing sense;

Unspeakable, inscrutable, eternal

Lord over all.

The only terrible, strong, just, and true,
Who hath no end, and no beginning knew.

He is the well of life, for He doth give
To all that live

Both breath and being; He is the Creator
Both of the water,

Earth, air, and fire. Of all things that subsist
He hath the list;

Of all the heavenly host, or what earth claims, He keeps the scroll, and calls them by their

names.

And now, my God, by thine illuming grace,
Thy glorious face,

(So far forth as it may discovered be),
Methinks I see;

And, though invisible and infinite,

To human sight,

Thou in thy mercy, justice, truth, appearest; In which to our weak senses thou comest nearest.

Oh! make us apt to seek, and quick to find,
Thou God most kind!

Give us love, hope, and faith, in Thee to trust;
Thou God most just!

Remit all our offences we intreat,

Most Good, most Great!

Grant that our willing, though unworthy quest, May through thy grace admit us 'mongst the

blest.

THOMAS HEYWOOD.

IMM

Emmortality.

MMORTAL! ages past, yet nothing gone! Morn without eve! a race without a goal! Unshortened by progression infinite! Futurity for ever future! life

Beginning still where computation ends! 'Tis the description of a Deity!

'Tis the description of the meanest slave.
Immortal! What can strike the sense so strong,
As this the soul? it thunders to the thought;
Reason amazes, gratitude o'erwhelms,

No more we slumber on the brink of fate;
Roused at the sound, the exulting soul ascends,
And breathes her native air: an air that feeds
Ambition high, and fans ethereal fires!
Quick kindles all that is divine within us,
Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars.
Immortal! was but one immortal, how

Would others envy! how would thrones adore!
Because 'tis common, is the blessing less?
How this ties up the bounteous hands of heaven!
O vain, vain, vain! all else; eternity!
A glorious and a needful refuge that,
From vile imprisonment in abject views.
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone,
Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness,
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill.
Eternity depending covers all;

Sets earth at distance, casts her into shades;
Blends her distinctions; abrogates her powers:

The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe,