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POETRY.

AN HYMN,

Composed on the Sca-Shore, during a Gale of Wind,
DIVINE Creator, as my footsteps roam

Along the trackless margin of the sea,
The mighty world of waters, as they foam,
Lift my astonish'd soul to Heaven and thee!
Who that beholds th' impetuous billows pour

Far o'er th' accustom'd limits of the main,
But must thy strong o'er-ruling pow'r adore,
Whose awful fiat can their rage restrain!
Resistless, urging on their wild career,

The boiling waves affright the watchful eye; The shelving sands oppose a slight barrier;

But Ocean hears thy voice, and passes by! What power but thine, Almighty! thus could guide The wint'ry tempests, furious as they blow? What hand but thine arrest the hurrying tide,

And teach the restless waters where to flow? What skill, Eternal Architect, but thine

Could fix the boundary of the headlong surge; Or trace th unseen, irremeable line,

That checks destruction on the dang'rous verge?
But for thy potent word, the opposing shore,

A victim to th' o'erwhelming waves would fall;
The rooted cliff stem the fierce tide no more, —
But universal ruin cover all!

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EDWARD,

W.

ON THE LATE AMIABLE AND PIOUS MRS. H.

SHE gives her infant life, and yields her own!
In midst of dying friends she too expir'd:

She saw the glories of her Saviour throne,
And to its holy honours she aspir'd!

'Twas Jesus' bands that drew her hence away,

To leave her babes, her friends, and kindred dear!
She would not turn her eyes from endless day,

To meet again the darkness of this sphere!
"Twas Jesus' name that cheer'd her waiting soul,
Anxious to see his face whom she ador'd!
Now has she soar'd away, and reach'd the goal
Her Father's mansions endless joys afford!
No more with us she takes the broken bread,

In fond rememb'rance of her dying Lord!
Ab, no! she sees him now, who once had bled,
And joins th' enraptur'd choir in sweet accord!
Dear, precious Saviour, may I too be found
Among the number of thy chosen race!

I stretch my boundless wishes from this ground,
And fain would soar away to see thy face.

SERENA.

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Now the cold tomb my thoughts survey,

By thee, my Lord, for ever blest; Ne'er did a tomb before receive

So holy, so divine a guest!

o'er the

Remember our victorious Lord, How he has triumph'd grave!

I'll sing his glorious victory,
His matchless love, his pow'r to
save!

Now he ascends his native skies,
For ever there to live and reign!
Worshipp'd by all the ransonid race,
Ador'd by the angelic train!

There for my guilt he shews his side, And pleads his precious blood for me!

Lord, in thy interceding pow'r,
With joy will I remember thee!

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ON DEUT. XXXII. 2. OMNISCIENT God, whose jealous eye, Abhorring all iniquity,

Searches the whole creation through, And ev'ry creature's thoughts can view!

What well thou knowest, Lord, I own,
That long I durst oppose thy throne;
Preferr'd mere vanity to thee,
And made no god a God to me!
Objects which could have no pretence
To Deity, at thy expence,
I treated as if they possest
The pow'r to make me truly blest!

Whither, ah! whither had I gone,
If thou hadst let me but alone,
And said, "He is to idols join'd,
Let him pursue his carnal mind!"

By sad experience had I found
Idolaters with woes abound:
They who thy mercy-seat forsake,
Rash headlong to the burning lake!

But thou didst sov'reign power display
In a more mild and gracious way;
Didst turn my treach'rous heart to thee,
And turn'd thy mercy not from me!

Now then I would be thine alone,
And thee, my God, my all I own ;
Begone, ye idols, base and vile,
Nor more may wand'ring heart beguile!

Teach me, O Lord, with jealous care,
To watch against the tempter's snare;
And O! thyself my Keeper be,
That nothing draw me off from thes!

Printed by G. AuLD, Greville Street, London

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Reve Thomas, launders, tate of Coventry.

Pub by Williams & Smith Station Court Do

SUPPLEMENT

TO THE

EVANGELICAL MAGAZINE

FOR THE YEAR 1806.

MEMOIR

OF

THE LATE REV. THOMAS SAUNDERS.

THE subject of this memoir was descended from an ancient and respectable family in Warwickshire. From a genealogical account, which is still preserved, it appears that Laurence Saunders, a faithful minister of Jesus Christ, who held the living of All-hallows, Bread Street, at the beginning of bloody Queen Mary's reign, was a branch of this family. At that dreadful period, this good man, with many others, became the object of persecution; and, after an imprisonment of fifteen months, was brought to the stake, and there witnessed a good profession*.

A short account of this man of God, extracted from the Book of Martyrs, may not be unacceptable.

Mr. Laurence Saunders was of a respectable parentage. He was educated at Eton College, and afterwards at King's College, Cambridge. He began to preach in the beginning of King Edward's reign, and was so acceptable, that he was appointed to read a divinity lecture in the College of Fothringa. This college being dissolved, he removed to Lichfield; after which, he resided, for a time, at Church Langton; from whence he was orderly called to the church in Bread Street.

On Saturday, October 14, as he was riding to London, he was overtaken on the road by Sir John Mordaunt, a counsellor to Queen Mary, who entered into conversation with him, and found that he was determined, notwithstanding the proclamation against the protestant ministers, to preach the next day at his church. preached, unmolested, from 2 Cor. ii.; but, in the afternoon, he was In the morning of that day he seized by the officers of the Bishop of London, before whom he was carried, and charged with treason and heresy. Mr. Saunders was committed to prison, where he continued fifteen months; after which, he underwent several examinations, in which he defended the truths of the gospel against his adversaries with great ability. He was, at length, however, excommunicated, and delivered to the secular power.

Shortly after, he was conveyed, by the Queen's guard, to the city of Coventry, where he was to be burned. man, who used to serve him with shoes, came to him, and said, "O When he arrived there, a poor my good master, God strengthen and comfort you!" To whom he replied, Good shoemaker, pray for me, for I am the unfittest man for this high office that ever was appointed to it; but my gracious God and dear Father is able to make me strong enough.' That night he spent in 4 E

XIV.

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