"Take ye heed, therefore, always watch and pray,

"For ye neither the hour know, nor the day."
We, like intoxicated creatures, flide

On a tremendous precipice's fide.
Thefe difpenfations, with amazing love,
The meffengers of Heav'n themselves approve;
From our fupineness urging us to wake,
And timely circumfpection wifely take.
In words I furely need not them express,
Or their interpreter myfelf profefs.

Let each one's confcience be awake, and then
They will appear thus awfully to mean-
"For your last end, ye fons of men, prepare,
"Since in the midft of life in death ye are.
"No ftate, no circumftance can afcertain
"Your fafety, nor a fingle moment gain.

So ftrong and mighty is the tyrant's hand,
"That nothing human can its force withstand;
"His aim's fo certain when his fhafts are fent,
"That of the number not one is mifpent.
"His arrows oft as quick as lightning fly,
"And wound and kill in twinkling of an eye.

By conftant preparation you can be,

"In all expedients, from danger free.

"The fatal fhafts fo much in common fall,
"That none can guess who'll next obey the call
"Then be ye ftill in readiness to go,

"The final fummons comes when leaft ye know."

Important counfel! forth, methinks, it breaks-
From fepulchre to fepulchre, and makes
In lines addreffes, and in precepts fpeaks.
The oft-repeated warning, I confeis,

Is but too needful for my happiness;
And may it by co-operating grace,
Effectually work a saving peace!

This truth which we with transport fhould receive; And deeply on our memories engrave;

Is only sketched lightly on the mind,

And leaves nought but a slender mark behind.
We view our neighbour's fick; we fee them dead;
We then turn pale, and feel a trembling dread;
No fooner are they to our profpect loft,
But either in the whirl of business tofs'd,
Or in lethargic pleasures lulled, we
Forget the errand of the Deity.

Our minds unstable an impreffion feel,

Like the thin air pierc'd by the barbed steel,
Or billows furrow'd by the cutting keel.
To cure this wonderful stupidity,
A neighb'ring monument addreffes me.
It a poor mortal's ftory comprehends,
Call'd to the dread tribunal from his friends;
Without time of the one farewell to take,

for the other a fhort pray'r to make;
Kd, as the ufual expreffions flow,
By a fudden and accidental blow.

D

}

Was it a chance wound? Doubtlefs the ftroke

came

;

From an hand which invisibly took aim.
The heav'nly angels the great LORD obey,
Who ruleth all things in the earth and sea
Except GoD pleaseth nothing can advance,
'Tis he directeth that which men call chance.
Nothing, 'tis plain, can ever come to light,
But what he plans and regulates aright.
If accidents fall out, they ever must
Proceed from GOD, and what he wills is juft.
The LORD, with whom the iffues of life are,
The warrant and commiflion did prepare.
The difafter, thought cafual, is only
The tool to execute the great decree.
When wicked Ahab fell, it was believ'd
He accidentally his death receiv'd.
"A certain man at venture drew a bow"
To him at venture, for he thought it fo.
But GoD omnipotent, who dwells on high,
His arm had strengthened, and could descry
The fhaft was aim'd by an unerring eye.
So that which men call chance is just the fame
As Providence, chang'd only in its name;
Which can deliberate designs reveal,

And its interpofition ftill conceal.

How cheering this reflexion is, to cure

The throbbing anguish which mourners endure

How admirably fitted to compose

Their fpirits, yielding to a weight of woes!
How excellently fuited to erafe

The tears of good furvivors, making place,
Ev'n in the midft of countless griefs, for peace!

The wall 'twixt this world and the next how thin!
We're out of this almoft as foon as in.
Our noftrils' breath does only feparate
Our prefent being from another state:
We may the journey make so hastily,
We live this moment, but the next may die.
From a card-table Chremylus arose,

And Death in darkness did his eyes inclofe.
One night, Corinna, gay and sprightly all,
Was richly dreffed at a splendid ball:

The next, a corpfe, pale, stiff, and wan fhe lay,
And ready to be mingled with the clay.
Young Atticus liv'd only to complete
His ample, coftly, and commodious feat;
But Death, the dreadful tyrant Death, debarr'd
Him from all pleasure in the house he rear'd.
Hung were the fafhes to admit the light,

But their Lord's eyes were clos'd in endless night.
Chambers were furnish'd to invite repofe,
pleafare which fociety beftows;

Bin the lone, filent manfions of the tomb
Their owner refts, in his low, earthly room.

Gardens were plann'd according to his mind,

A thousand noble ornaments defign'd;

But to the place of skulls," depriv'd of breath,

Their master's gone down to the vale of death.

Many, I doubt not, while I recollect,
This tragical viciffitude expect.

The eyes of that great GoD who fits upon
The circle of the earth, and views with one
All-feeing look the poor fojourners there,
See many tents which now afflicted are:
Afflicted, as when in one night the pride
And strength of the Egyptians were deftroy'd:
When the refiftlefs arrows flew abroad,

Shot by the heav'nly meffenger of God.
Some from their eafy chairs fink on the floor,
Nor can their fhrieking friends relief procure:
Some in an arbour as reclin'd they lie,

Tafting the fweets which from the bloffoms fly.
Some, as in pleasure-boats they fail along,
O'er dancing ftreams, or laughing meads among;
Nor is the grim intruder mollified,

Tho' wine and mufic flow on either fide.
Some, intercepted on their journey home;
And as they enter on great matters, fome.
Some are affail'd, as in their hands they hold
The gains for which their justice has been fold;
And even fome are taken by furprise,
Just as they luft or malice exercife.