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ON INFIDELITY.

Religion wipes her tearful eyes: hope points I Her finger unto God, 'tis almost o'er,

She droops, and drooping weeps-the heart-felt sigh

She heaves; and dying heaves the groan of

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Yet dies to live, yet dies to reign with God.

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O UNBELIEF, what, hast thou done? now look, O murd❜rous principle; aghast stand thou, Abhorrent; blush in crimson, yea, in blood,

BEHOLD the man! the man infatuated,

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The rudder of his reason gone. Unship'd
His character—the page divinely breath'd,

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That only compass true, indignant hurl'd,''
Into the de
the deep-0 loss to him immense!

Now tost by foulest winds of passion strong,
Misfortune starts the plank, the leak prevails,

ON INFIDELITY.

High swell the billows, loud they roar, he sinks; Thrown on the strand, a wreck despised lies.

O BLEST religion, thou my anchor firm, Amidst the storm of life, with thee I ride, Secure in waters deep, on waves tumultuous: In thee asylum safe !—a palace find.

THE practis'd fowler spreads his guileful net, Displays his bait, and lures with nicest skill! The bird, just so, the artful and impuret With feign'd pretence, to lawless love invites. Lures to her house, the man by lust inflam'd; Her house a ditch, her bed a sepulchre. With syren song deludes th' enchanted ear," Beneath her guileful tongue, th' aspian bane, Her eye a fountain-but her heart a flint, Her smiles the presage of a fearful storm

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ON INFIDELITY.

Firmly she weaves her toils, intoxicates,
Then, through his liver strikes the fatal dart:
Thus surely ends, the sad catastrophe,
Of disbelief and conscience sacrific'd,
The grave of virtue, and the hell of peace.

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THE

IMPENITENT'S

REVIEW,

THE day is come, the question's laid at rest, Creation's all a universal wreck. Suspicion's realiz'd-the preacher's true, My soul's undone, without a friend—a God. I doubt no more, 'tis feeling, all is fact. That gulph unknown, those dungeons deep and black;

O heav'ns! O sea! O earth! O flesh! O blood!

I've lost my soul, in loosing thee, my ALL: 'Tis realiz'd-a God, a heav'n, a hell!

THE IMPENITENT'S REVIEW.

COMURD'ROUS world, O guileful damning sin, I thought thee ill, but worse than e'er I thought, Ye cursed spirit's in perdition's deep,

Who roll in liquid flames unquenchable; Ye serpents, lions, dragons, damning souls, No horrors now too great, no name's too vile; O sink them, mighty justice, deeper sink them; 'Gainst thee they aim'd their malice, force, and guile.

AND ye, my past companions, cursed souls, To you I owe my ruin dread, yet just; 'Twas ye beguil'd my artless, thoughtless mind

I trembling follow'd, list'ning to your song; Ye strew'd the paths of vice with pois'nous flow'rs;

Drove far the words of parents, friends, and God:

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