POE E T R Y.

THOUGHTS ON IMPUTED RIGHTEOUSNESS,

Occafioned by reading the Rev. Mr. Hervey's Dialogues between Theron and Afpafio. By Dr. Byrom.

PART I.

MPUTED RIGHTEOUSNESS!beloved Friend,
To what advantage can this Doctrine tend?

If at the fame time a Believer's breast,
Be not by real Righteousness poffeft?®
And if it be, why volumes on it made,
With fuch a firefs upon imputed laid?

Amongst the Difputants of later days,
This in its turn, became a favourite phrase;
When much divided in religious Schemes,
Contending Parties ran into extremes:
And now it claims the attention of the age,
In Hervey's elegant and lively page:
This his Afpafio labours to imprefs,
With every turn of language and addrefs.
With all the flow of eloquence, that fhines

Through all his (full enough) embellished lines.

Though now fo much exerting to confirm Its vaft importance, and revive the term, He was himself, he lets his Theron know, Of différent sentiments not long ago.

And

And friends of yours, it has been thought, I find,
Have brought Afpafio to his prefent mind.
Now having read, but unconvinced I own,
What various Reasons for it he has fhown;
Or rather Rhetoric-if it be true,
In any fenfe that has appeared to you;
I reft fecured of giving no offence
By asking-how you understand the sense?
By urging in a manner frank and free
What reasons, as I read, occur to me;
Why Righteoufnefs, for man to reft upon,
Must be a real not imputed one.

From the OLNEY COLLECTION.

A fich foul. Mat. ix. 12.

PHYSICIAN of my fin-fick soul,

To thee I bring my cafe;

My raging malady control,
And heal me by thy grace.

Pity the anguish I endure,

See how I mourn and pine;
For never can I hope a cure
From any hand but thine,

I would difclofe my whole complaint,
But where fhall I begin?

No words of mine can fully paint
That worft diftemper, fin.

It lies not in a fingle part,
But through my frame is spread;

A burning fever in my heart,

A palfy in my head.

Dd a

It

MY

FORTITUD E.

[By the Rev. Dr. Gibbons.]

Friend, fhould Fortune's favouring gales,
Juft undulate your peaceful fails,
Or fhould the billows roll,

Tumultuous through the roaring deep,

Still in one even tenor keep

Your dignity of foul.

Should Fortune fmile, be ftill ferene,

Let no refponfive fmile be feen,

Or fhould fhe pour the tear;

Be fure to wipe the tear away,
And through life's mifcellaneous day,
Firm to yourself appear.!

Nor quit your road, nor 'bate your speed,
Whatever thorn, or baleful weed,

May choke or curse the ground:

Often from forrow's cloud of night,
Joy, like an angel, burfts to fight,
And gilds the horizon round.

Profperity

Profperity its evil brings,

Relaxing oft the mental ftrings,
In her foft fultry air:

Adverfity her blessing gives,

And every stroke the foul receives,
Enables it to bear.

Almighty God, whatever ills,
Thine all-difpofing Wisdom wills
For me thy meanest care;

Teach me, enlivened with thy love,
And opening views of bliss above,
Magnanimous to bear.

Fortune and Fate are wild and vain,
The fegments of a Pagan brain:
A God, a God is all:

O'er Nature he extends his fway,

O'er realms of night, and realms of day,
Of this terraqueous ball.

Profperity fent from above,
To win our gratitude and love,

Spreads her inviting charms;

Adverfity receives from God

Its fcorpion-ftings and smarting rod,
To drive us to his arms.

PARADISE REGAINE D.

[By H. T.]

EEK not for Paradife with curious

SEEK

eye

In Afiatic climes, where Tigris' waves, Mixed with Euphrates in tumultuous joy,

The fpacious plains of Babylonia laves.

'Tis gone with all its charms, and like a dream,
Like Babylon itself, is swept away;
Beflow one tear upon the mournful theme,
But let it not thy gentle heart dismay.

For know wherever Love and Virtue guide,
They lead us to a state of heavenly bliss;
Where joys unknown to Guilt and Shame prefide,
And pleasures unalloyed each hour increase.

Behold that grove, whofe waving boughs admit,
Through the live colonnade, the fruitful hill, '
A moving profpe&t with fat herds replete,
Whose lowing voices all the valley fill.

There through the fpiry grafs, where glides the brook,
(By yon tall poplar which erects its head
Above the verdure of the neighbouring oak,)
And gently murmurs o'er the adjoining mead:

Philander and Cleora, happy pair!

Tafte the cool breezes of the gentle wind; Their breafts from guilt, their looks are free from care, Sure index of a calm, contented mind.

'Tis here in virtuous love the ftudious fair

Informs her babes, nor fcorns herself to' improve, While by his fmile fhe lives whofe pleasing care Difpenfes knowledge from the lips of love.

No wild Defires can spread their poison here,
Nor Difcontent their peaceful hours attend;
Falfe Joys, nor flattering Hopes, nor fervile Fear,
Their gentle minds with jarring paffions rend.

Here