pORDRYs,

FROM THE METHODIST MACHINE.
REFLECTIONS
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On pnSsing tie graps Of Trhonsus Paine.. .
When struggling nature hea7ss the parting sigh.
And hope and fear maintain doubtful strite,
Why shrinks the firm philosopher to die! i
Why'clings the trembling nfdel to life!
o, 'ts because his hope, forbid to soar


Beyond ths graves impenetrable gloom.
Beholds, rAep life's poor pilgrimage Is o'er,
A dread annihilation in the tomb.
For who can plunge into gulph unknown,
A land Of darknes, solitude and shade
Leap from the crumbling brink Of life alone,
Nor feel the terrsrs that are round him spread
And did he die without hope Of heaven'
Around his couch did no kind angel bend;
To whisper in his heart Of sins forgiven,


And hopes of happines, that never end
o. then, indeed, twas terrible to die,


Twas dreadful to resign the ling'rins breath
A keene. anguish bsrbs the parting sigh,
And horror hovers DER the couch Of death.
Dark, wretched, gloom was his mortal life,
prey TO passion< eno 70 ssuse sases
The hapless child Of misery and strife,


Rests not in peace cen in uis lonely grave.
What deep emotion in my hcsom swell',


While this melancholy spot survey
On scenes long past, recording mem'ry dwelis,
When |, like him, pursued the devious way
And do live l-and am call'd to prove
& An interest in the grace | once deniedf
q wond'rous psw'r! o, all victorious love,
That led my heart to fnd the Cruci6sdi
Saviour, let all my future days be thine,


To s,sead thy praise be all my sweet employ,
And while know that thou, my God, art m'ne'
All toll is sweet, an every pain is joy.


.Nsw York, Vov. 1919. c. NJ.