Contributors to the Missionary Society are respectfully informed, That only Collections, Anonymous Donations, and Legacies, are noticed in this Magazine; but that the annually published Accounts contain the Name of each Individual Contributor, whose Name and Contribution has been re
ceived by the Treasurer at the date of publication.
MISSIONARY COLLECTIONS, &c.
Rev. S. Rooker and Congregation, Bideford Rev. R Evans and Congregation, Appledore A Friend at Bristol, by the Rev. Mr. Thorp Ditto, by the Rev. Mr. Fletcher, Blackburn A Young Person, by the Secretary A Lady, by the Rev. Mr. Wall
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Addressed to a Minister of the Gospel on his Return from the Country
FROM scenes of war and tales of human woe, - From fields with slaughter and with carnage fill'd, And deeply crimson'd with the thousands slain, Heart-sick I ture, to hail the welcome day That to my longing eyes again restores Him, from whose lips the words of gospel-truth, Sweet as the balmy breath of early spring, First struck my list ning ears, and reach'd my heart! (So Hope would whisper, and her honey'd speech I not unwilling credit) yet wilt thou, For much excuse he needs, again forgive One who, in verse of most uncultur'd form, And negligent of dress, or trick'd attire, Presumptuous seeks, unknown, to celebrate, With no feign'd gratulation, thy return?
Soft as the gentle dew at early eve, When sinks the day-star in the western sky, Falls on the new-mown grass, the word of life, From hallow'd lips outbreath'd, benignant falls, Refreshing to the heart, tha', deeply-gall'd, Knows its own bitterness and seeks for ease: Man, unregenerate, attends it not, Immers'd in worldly cares or worldly joys, And emulous to tread the dizzy heights Of mad Ambition; or, with growling art, Ransack the bowels of the teeming earth, To fill, with shining dross, his bursting bags, - A perishable treasure! fraught with ills!
O, dead to all that ought to sway the soul! Deaf as the adder to the charmer's voice, And lost to every hope, man heeds it not! Heeds not the voice that holds the promise forth Of pardon'd sins, of joys beyond the grave, And free acceptance through a Saviour's blood!
In Folly's catalogue this most creates Mute wonder, that, to vile and earthly joys, And transient as the gleam of winter's sun, Misjudging man postpones th'unceasing life, - The endless bliss, th' abundant weight of glory, And crown of light eternal in the heavens!
O for the voice of Him who, girt with power. And Heaven-commission'd, came precursive down To Israel's favoured sons, proclaiming loud, * Repent ye, for the kingdom is at hand,
* Prepare the way, make straight the path for God!" 'Tis thine, whose life harmonious with thy words, And each according with the book of Truth, Reflecting and reflected, beaming round A sacred lustre on the Christian name,
Tis thine to raise that voice, to me how dear! That, with just threat'sings on the harden'd race, Mingles sweet promise of a Saviour's love, And speaks at once of Heaven, and points the way!
For me, unworthy of the sacred theme,
And least among the least, may never breath Of early Morn, or fall of quiet Eve,
Or Midnight's solemn hour; but speak of Him
Who, full of tender mercies, died for man.
Wherber amid the busy hum of men
I tread the crowded street, or seek the shade Of rural peace for meditation fit,
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And silent musing on the wond'rous hand That form'd, benignant, the prolific scene, Or up the rock, my native rocks and wilds, At early morn I climb to watch the beam, Streaking with burnish'd gold th' empurpled In freshest glory bright; or catch the ray, Steep slanting through the clouds, behind whose form Sinks the broad orb of slow-retiring day; In Spring's soft season, Summer's fervid noon, "Mid Autumn's fruits, and Winter's drear domain, Be God in all my thoughts!- God, great and good,. In all that strikes the eye or charms the ear! Amid the wondrous scenes Creation shews: But not in all that charms the eye or ear Amid this wond'rous scene, his love so shines As in the sacred page, my dear delight, That to a sin-benighted soul reveals Redemption, through a dying Saviour's blood!
O Love beyond compare! love most divine! Immeasurably great! be this my theme Of daily meditation; and when Night Her sable mantle o'er a slumb'ring world Throws solemn, may my thoughts aspiring rise To those bright mansions of eternal bliss, Prepar'd in Heaven before th' omnific word Spoke into being from the boundless void This beauteous order; or, resistless said,
Belight; and light, obedient to the call, Sprang forth, rejoicing! May my glowing soul, Enkindling at the thought, unceasing, praise Him who, in mercy to a ruin'd world, Himself the ransom for the ruin'd gave, And on the cross expir'd, that man might live!
To thee, his minister, whose faithful word First to my view expos'd the wond'rous plan, Of man's redemption, this unskilful verse, Grateful i dedicate, nor thou despise
The humble offering of a muse unknown!
Printed by G. AULD, Greville Street, London.
THE REV. RALPH THOMPSON.
MR. RALPH THOMPSON was born at Helmsley, in Yorkshire, in the year 1769. His disposition to serious things appeared at a period uncommonly early. He was not addicted to juvenile pursuits, as children generally are; but, instead of playing in the streets, he was observed to be constantly attentive to the Scriptures, whether at home or in the school; and so extraordinary was his attention and his memory, that, while yet a ehild, he had learned the whole of the New Testament by heart. The report of this remarkable attainment having reached the ears of Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Illingworth, then curate to Dr. Conyers, he was desirous of seeing and examining the child; when, to his great astonishment, he found the account he had heard to be exactly true. From this time, young Thompson obtained the name of 'The Walking Concordance.'
Dr. Illingworth having removed to London, as curate at Tottenham Court Chapel, Ralph Thompson, when 12 years old, followed him, and continued under his tuition about four years; after which he returned to Helmsley.
The following account is extracted principally from his own private statement of the gracious dealings of God to his soul, presented to the writer by his brother, the Rev. Mr. Thompson, of Bishingham, Lincolnshire.
'It was the Lord's command to the poor demoniac, whom he dispossessed of a legion of devils, to go to his friends and neighbours, and tell them what great things the Lord had
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