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ner who deplores his crimes, and the righteous man who mourns that his virtues are mixed with imperfections, and his highest attainments sullied by human frailty. Thou wilt gather them together out of the dust, to bestow on them eternal joys, angelic purity: for promise ineffable ! the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head. Mystery sublime! mystery profound! wrapt in an holy obscurity, which no finite being can penetrate : but full of divine consolations. The sinner is reconciled to God; the offender is restored to peace and hope. Shall man then lament in the dust; shall he groan in despair, if the dream of life is alternately filled with joy and sorrow? Death approaches, it shall break the shackels of the soul and free it from the consequences of a just malediction. Then those, who, while clothed in dust forgot not their original purity, who loved virtue, who loved God, who kindled in their hearts the seraphic flame, shall be assembled together in their mansions on high to enjoy their incessant, eternal felicity—lost in their immensity, the first Archangel can but imperfectly express his sensations! man can only feel them." This
prayer is dated only a few weeks after our mother's death, and it evidently alludes to this afflictive providence. His use of the plural “ we,” leads me to conclude that he formed the prayer with the intention of using it in connexion with myself, as we were the only surviving children, although I have no distinct recollection of the circumstance, for I was not then seven years of
age. Though this paper bears many marks of its being original, at least in part, yet if in the minds of some, it displays a clearness of apprehension of Divine things, and a sublimity of idea far beyond what could be anticipated from a child of eleven years of age; still the mere arrangement of the sentences and its adaptation to the peculiar providence under which he was passing, evidences a maturity of judgment, a liveliness of imagination, and an ardour of piety which may well cause us with astonishment to exclaim, this is the Lord's work.
His poetical talent also began at this season to unfold, as appears from the following small manuscript volume of attempts at poetry, which I have found with his signature. It was commenced June 11th, 1801. It contains a piece on the death of General George Washington. One entitled the Last Day: on Wickedness: on Virtue: on the works of God, and an Acrostic on our mother. The last is as follows:
Pale death hath laid her weary,
Now she reaps the fruits of virtue." “ June 12th, 1801." This was but a few months after our mother's death. I find also the following in his own hand writing.
6 AGUR'S WISH-Prod. xxx. 7."
While here I live, great God vouchsafe to grant,
“ BENJÖN. ALLEN, Jr." · Hudson, June 9th, 1801."
Another piece, written on the blank leaves of his Gamut book is before me. It is headed “ Bunker Hill." On account of its sentiment and spirit, I feel constrained to give an extract. After referring to the field of battle in the first verse, it proceeds
“ Death will invade us by the means appointed,
God our Creator."
The writer then expatiates on the resplendant glory of Jehovah, acknowledges his goodness, in judgments as well as mercies; exults in his reign, and declares his willingness to give his “life up when called to yield it.” After this he is led to describe the scene at Bethlehem, and celebrate the praises of God his Redeemer. In the eighth verse he proceeds— “ Hark! whence that sound, hark! hark! the joyful shoutings! See, see what splendour spreads its beams around us, Turning dark midnight into noon-tide glory,
As it approaches."
“With pomp majestic, see the heavenly vision Slowly desending, whilst attendant angels pour Declamations, and celestial chauntings
Wake our attention."
“ Fear not ye shepherds, 'tis the Prince of Peace comes,
“Go pay your homage to your infant Saviour, And in a manger view the Lord of glory, Meanly attended, yet the great Rodeemer,
Yon star shall guide you."
“Give God the glory, all ye hosts celestial,
Through a Mediator."
It is evident from all the papers before me,
in connexion with this early period of his history, that he was much occupied in the Gospel and its salvation. He kept a regular record of the deaths as they occurred in his native place. He copied from some author, no doubt, an Explanation of the Ten Commandments. This appeared to be his favourite exercise. Portions of these transcripts are now lost. The date of the first copy is March 11th, 1801, and this is a part 2d,” thus we may presume that he had before been similarly engaged. We find part of another copy of the Comment, dated December 16th, 1801: and a third dated April 13th, 1802: and a fourth copy nearly finished, occupying considerable paper, and written in a fairer hand, is dated 1803, February. To this is also annexed the dates of 1804 and 1805. Perhaps it was his custom to copy this explanation of the Decalogues at least once a year. The explanation itself appears to be designed
not only to have a moral, but a spiritual and saving influence upon the heart.
A manuscript is likewise in my hand, entitled "a Prayer Book. Commenced, Hudson, June 12, 1801.” It contains one prayer, and a second but partly formed. The first, let it proceed from his own inventive powers, or be copied by him from some other source ; its appearing in his hand and his signature attached so unfolds the views and feelings of his soul that I cannot refrain from placing it here.
“A MORNING MEDITATION." Again, O God! thy kind mercy through another night has preserved me—thy visible guardian Providence, hath from danger defended me: Thou didst scatter balmy sleep over my animal spirits, by which I find my bodily strength renewed, and my mental powers refreshed. Adored be that Divine bounty, which hath granted me those conveniences, which numbers, far more worthy than I am, do not enjoy. How many, O Lord, have spent on beds of languishing, the darksome night-others with minds distracted, have passed the gloomy hours-some in noisome prisons, and awful to think on, numbers in the dismal confines of the bottomless pit—while unworthy I, have reposed sweetly, and now behold the cheering rays of the sun, feel his warm and genial influence-and am permitted to view the surrounding beauties of nature-the fields clothed with verdure, the bleating flocks, the sportive lamb, the sweetscented garden, joined with the harmonious sonnets of the feathered race, may please my senses and fill me with amaze. But, my God! what are they, and what is the highest enjoyment all the works of nature can afford? Without thy presence all is vanity. The fanning breeze might as soon satisfy my natural wants, as all created things my soul.
Without thy presence and thyself,