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or near Patna for more than thirty years, during which he has only been once from it, as far as Disrapoor. The houses of the natives here are almost all of mud, but their tiled roofs, and verandahs, give them a better aspect than the common Bengalee cottage. The hackeries are very different from those of Calcutta, being little tabernacles, like the moveable military shrines represented on ancient monuments, with curtains and awnings, and drawn either by one horse, or two oxen. We had a very pleasant, quiet evening, such as a Sunday evening ought to be, and concluded with family prayers. On the whole I have been greatly pleased and interested with this visit. HEBER.


Now Lord I would be thine alone,

And wholly live to thee.

DEEPLY impressed with the Lord's sparing mercy through the fleeting years of my past life, ashamed that I have lived so little to His glory, that I have been so comparatively indifferent to my eternal interests; perceiving the vanity and insufficiency of this world to make me blest, and aware that the hours of my frail and transitory life are rapidly departing.

I resolve, in the strength of God, to seek His grace by earnest prayer and supplication, pleading his gracious promises for my acceptance and pardon, and not to cease until I can say, the Lord is my portion.

I resolve to devote myself to God as my King and Lord, to seek my pleasure in Him, to be guided and directed by His holy word, and to be preserved by his powerful arm.

I resolve to make the word of God my study; to read it frequently, at the least some portion of it every day.

I resolve to be attentive to the means of grace; to guard against dulness, drowsiness, a roving eye, a vagrant mind, and a light and trifling demeanor.

I resolve to tread in the footsteps of the flock, and to avoid the company of the infidel, and profane, and unholy.

A meo Studio. 1 Kal. Jan. 1830.



"Bless the Lord, O my seul, and forget not all his benefits."

ANOTHER year is gone,

The earth again has run
It's circuit round the sun,
With rapid pace;

How many saw appear
The opening of that year,
Whom now with grasp severe
Death's arms embrace!

How many did begin

And end that year in sin,

Nor strove to enter in

At the strait gate;

How many sought relief,

From wretchedness and grief,

In awful unbelief,

Till 'twas too late!

Look back my soul, and think,

When on perdition's brink,

How 'twas thou didst not sink
To rise no more.

Oh! 'twas eternal love,

Beheld thee from above,

And bade thee live and prove
It's saving pow'r.

Look back my soul, and see,
How strong the love must be,

Of Him who set thee free,
From sin and hell:

Who died to sanctify,

Arose to justify,

And take thee finally,

With Him to dwell.

Look back my soul, review

His benefits anew;

And give Him as His due,

Thy heart entire ;

Psalm ciii. 2.

All other lords disown,
Trust in His blood alone,
And to live near His throne,
Ever aspire.

Christian, rejoice to hear,
Thou art another year

To endless joys more near;
Look up in peace;

For thy redemption's nigh,
And immortality

Waits for thy soul on high,

In realms of bliss.

Sinner, oh, dark reverse!

Thy state, beneath the curse,

Each year grows worse and worse,
Hell waits for thee!

Yet there is hope,—believe,

Simply to Jesus cleave,

Ask, and thou shalt receive,
For grace is free.





THE Lord, the good, the wise, the just,
Commands your child returns to dust,
From whence at first your darling came:
You bow-you patiently resign,
Nor, murmuring at the will divine,

Feel less dispos'd to bless His Name.

Freely, for you, His Son he gave,
To bleed-to die-your soul to save

From death-from hell-from Satan's bands,
How then should you, with thankless heart,
Refuse from this your child to part,

When He, who gave him first demands?
Ere yet she take the field, she wins,
Escapes a thousand snares and sins,

And dead, yet she for ever lives:
Who knows what ills the child is spar'd?
Who knows what joys, for her prepar'd,

She now before the Throne receives?


See there, amidst the ransom'd throng,
She joins the everlasting song,

To Him, who death and hell o'ercame:
To Him, who by His precious blood,
Redeem'd and brought them back to God,

When lost in sin, and sunk in shame.
Who knows but, favor'd with the view,
Your Fanny ofttimes looks on you,
"Partaker of the heavenly grace:"
Her joy increas'd, to think ere long,
Her mother too shall join the song,

And share the glories of the place?
Who knows but she whom now ye mourn,
May, yet awhile, again return,

Her parents' passing souls to greet,
May, with attending angels come,
To convoy to your heavenly home,
And guide you to the Saviour's feet.


THE heav'ns with all their hosts outspread

Displayed their starry light,

And reigning in her majesty

Full-orbed, the queen of night.

Mild issuing forth her silver ray,
Her modest light she gave;
And she was smiling pleasantly,
On every rippling wave.

The watery main was sweetly still,

And bounded only by

The horizon of the azure arch,

A calm and cloudless sky.

Now contemplation, with her charms,
Engaged the silent hour,

And reigning o'er my tranquil soul

Employed her sweetest power.

Rising from this lower world

She mounted high above,

And borne, upon her wings, my thoughts
Far, far away did rove.

M. A. B.

Piercing beyond the shining orb,
To that fair world on high;
Where all is joy, and ev'ry tear
Is wip'd from ev'ry eye.

Where seraphs strike their golden lyres,

And their mellifluous strains,
Echo'd by all the shining hosts,

Fly o'er the ethereal plains.

Where dearest friends from this vain world
Have wing'd their heav'nly way,
Call'd hence by Him, who died that they
Might see eternal day.


"Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis."

THE year is departed! departed for ever,
Its sun is gone down and its glory is set,
Its joys and its sorrows though finished will ever,
When reviewed, give delight or produce a regret!
The year is departed, my taper burns dimmer,
My strength is diminish'd, my days are decreasing,
My friends, oh! their number each year becomes thinner,
And earth seems more dull and its music is ceasing.

The year
is departed, but have I no pleasure
In yonder bright regions where years are unknown?
Yes! praise to the Saviour my unfailing treasure,
He died to secure me a seat on His throne.

The year is departed, Lord! what shall I render?
No words can my sense of thy goodness express,
My life and my soul, yea my all I surrender,
And ages unnumber'd thy praise shall confess.

The year is departed, but not my enjoyment,
No, that will all worlds and all seasons survive,
In the courts of my God, I shall find sweet employment,
While eternally bless'd in His presence I live.

The year is departed, rouse, rouse thee my spirit,
And sing of salvation and favour divine,


Accepted and pardon d through Jesus' merit,

His fulness, His promise, His righteousness mine.

R. C.

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