Tho' prison'd there, my dust too I reclaim, (To dust when drop proud nature's proudest spheres) Were death deny'd, poor man would live in vain ; This king of terrors is the prince of peace.fr. Job 18:14 When shall I die to vanity, pain, death? When shall I die?-When shall I live for ever? He rose, He rose, He burst the bars of Feath, And London; Pub Jan 1.1802. by Vernor & Hood, and the other Proprietors. J.Neagle se Page, 68. NIGHT THE FOURTH. THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH : CONTAINING OUR ONLY CURE FOR THE FEAR OF DEATH; AND PROPER SENTIMENTS OF HEART ON THAT INTERESTING BLESSING. ΤΟ THE HONOURABLE MR. YORKE. A MUCH indebted muse, O YORKE! intrudes. Amid the smiles of fortune, and of youth, |