334 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1800. 



his thoughts, and their occasional 

 wanderings, with a force of expres- 

 sion dictated by the liveliness of 

 his feelings. While his attainments 

 in the love of God were thus emi- 

 nentj you, my friends, can testify 

 the exemplary love that he practised 

 toward his neighbour. To a con- 

 duct void of offence toward any in- 

 dividual, and marked with peculiar 

 kindness to all who feared God, 

 was added a beneficence fully pro- 

 portioned to his ability, and exer- 

 cised with the greatest modesty 

 and discretion. 



The consolation, which, after 

 having endured the severest dis- 

 tress, he at that time derived from 

 a life of faith in the Son of God, 

 who loved him and "gave himself 

 for him, he thus describes, in an 

 affecting allegory : 



I was a stricken deer, that left the herd 

 Long since ; with many an arrow, deep 



infixt, 

 My panting side was cliarged, when I 



withdrew 



To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. 



There was I found by one who iiad him- 

 self 



Been liurt by th' archers. In his side 

 he bore, 



And in his hands and feet, thecrucl scars. 



With gentle force soliciting the darts. 



He drew them forth, and heal'd, and 

 bade me live. 



The Task, B. 3. 



This testimony to the truth and 

 solidity of that peace with God, 

 which is the privilege of them who 

 are justified by faith, he published 

 long after he had lost all enjoyment 

 of the blessing. But who would 

 not have hoped to see his path, like 

 that of the sun, " shine more and 

 more unto the perfect day ?" — The 

 degree and the duration of his spiri- 

 tual comforts had, perhaps, exceed- 

 ed the usual experience of pious 

 people, and some suspension of them 

 would not have seemed surprising ; 



but who could have expected their 

 total and final extinction ? 



Our departed friend conceived 

 some presentiment of this sad re- 

 verse as it drew near; and, during 

 a solitary walk in the fields, he com- 

 posed a hymn, which is so appro- 

 priate to our subject, and so expres- 

 sive of that faith and hope which 

 he retained as long as he possessed 

 himself, that although it is very 

 familiarly known to you, I cannot 

 forbear to introduce it in this place. 



God moves in a mysterious way, 



His wonders to perform ; 

 He plants his footsteps in the sea, 



And rides upon the storm. 



Deep in unfathomable mines 



Of never-failing skill 

 He treasures up his bright designs, 



And works his sov'reign will. 



Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; 



The clouds ye so much dread 

 Are big with merCy, and shall break 



In blessings on your head. 



Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,- 

 But trust him for his grace ; 



Behind a frowning providence 

 He hides a smiling face. 



His purposes will ripen fast, 



Unfolding ev'ry hour ; 

 The bud may have a bitter taste, 



But sweet will be the flow'r. 



Blind unbelief is sure to err. 

 And scan his work in vain ; 



God is his own interpreter. 

 And he will make it plain. 



Armed with like faith, let us con- 

 template the dreary path that our 

 deceased neighbour trod so long a 

 time. Many have visited its gloomy 

 entrance, and some have been a 

 tedious while bewildered in it, but 

 none within my knowledge have 

 traced, as he did, its whole extent. 

 The steps by which he descended 

 to it were sudden, and awfully pre- 

 cipitous. The bright, yet serene 

 lustre, which had usually "marked 



