A HYMN. ETERNAL Spirit, thee we sing, And high thy glories raise; Thee all thy works unite to bless In songs of endless praise. Thy praise angelic voices try, And we attempt with our's; But it transcends a mortal's tongue, Or angel's nobler pow'rs. POETRY. Thy glory through all nature shines, With thy great name, the universe Through its vast empire rings; Thy wisdom, majesty, and power, The whole creation sings. Our voices louder than the rest, Are heard amidst the choir; The angels sound thy praises high, But mortals sound them higher. While their loud strings, aspiring, fail, To us new strength is given; Our tongues vibrate, of higher note Than all the harps of heaven. We celebrate redeeming love; We sing Almighty grace; The love which mov'd the Deity To save our fallen race. When we the rapt'rous theme begin, The first-born seraph tunes his lyre; Immortal song! mysterious love! [sing, To the Editor. The following piece is the composition of a clergyman, and appeared some time since, I believe, in a newspaper;I have heard it recommended for insertion in your Magazine. Not deeming myself a sufficient judge of its merits, I beg leave to present it to your notice. Your's, respectfully, Witney, Oxon. MANY pieces join'd together, A. G. J. Calk'd and pitch'd and tallow'd o'er, Make a ship a match for weather, Fit to feel the tempest's roar. Now through billows, raging loudly, Cut, she does, her foaming way, Rides upon the surges proudly, Onward pressing, night and day. Form'd of many planks collected, Should she spring a leak, but one, Soon the fault must be corrected, Swift would else the ship go down.Thousands could but work her ruin, One will send her to the deeps; Works one sin the man's undoing, In his breast one sin who keeps. See Goliah breathless lying, Murder'd by a single wound; Slain as sure as Cæsar dying, Brought by twenty to the ground. Samson brave and undefeated, Trampling on Philistine pride, By a single harlot cheated Lost his eyes and life beside. Broke one wheel in clocks or watches, Useless lie the whole machines; Life one open vein despatches, Cut as if were all the veins. Adam, by one apple eaten, Forfeited his Maker's smiles; One sin, thus, will raise God's anger Let us every treason shun; Printed at the Conference. Office, 14, City-Road, London, by T. CORDEUX, Agent THE METHODIST MAGAZINE, FOR SEPTEMBER, 1817. BIOGRAPHY. A SHORT MEMOIR OF MR. JOHN DIXON, (Concluded from page 569.) In his person, Mr. Dixon was tall and slender, and of a consumptive habit of body. This circumstance often exposed him to considerable risk with regard to his bodily health, especially after he began to preach. I am not sure that this constitutional tendency had not greatly endangered his life for more than twelve years before his exit. For thus he writes on the anniversary of his 27th year:-" My days have indeed been crowned with loving kindness and tender mercy. From my infancy many are the deliverances and interpositions of Providence which I have witnessed: yea, Oft from the margin of the grave But O the ingratitude my heart upbraids me with! How little have I done for God! How much of my time has run to waste! And perhaps my race is nearly run." In the spring, and particularly in the summer of 1805, he appears to have been very ill for many weeks together, and to have visited Saltfleet for the benefit of his health. Thus he writes in his journal of that year: "In the former part of this year, I found an active mind to do something for God, and had many precious seasons in publishing his word in different parts of the kingdom;-but in the latter part of it, he hath seen it good to try my passive graces, by laying on me his chastizing rod. I was afflicted for eight weeks together; part of which time I spent at Saltfleet, where I had many wearisome nights, nevertheless I enjoyed many happy 'seasons in the company of God's people." After this he became the subject of repeated and severe attacks of illness, which, together with VOL. XL. SEPTEMBER, 1817. the very different modes of medical treatment adopted by those gentlemen of the faculty to whom he applied, contributed, beyond all doubt, to hasten his end. But if these afflictive dispensations of Divine Providence shortened his stay with us, they gloriously contributed, under God, to wean his soul from all improper attachment to perishable objects, and to make it meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. And without subjecting the truth of his piety, or the general consistency of his character, to the smallest measure of reasonable suspicion, we may affirm, that such premonitory visitations were peculiarly necessary for him. He was naturally of a sprightly and witty turn of mind. He had an intense thirst for knowledge. And to these he added an exquisite relish for the refined pleasures of life. Now, the influence of any one of these, more especially of all together, is sufficient, without the greatest care, to turn away our thoughts and affections from invisible and eternal objects. Of this Mr. Dixon was fully aware, and diligently endeavoured to guard himself against consequences so exceedingly pernicious. Yet, with all his care, he had sometimes to mourn over the wanderings of his mind and heart. An extract from his diary, giving an account of one of these seasons of godly sorrow, will place this valuable man in an interesting point of light. In January, 1808, he writes, " Another year of my time is gone; gone with the years beyond the flood; gone with all its advantages, all its enjoyments, and all its trials; and it is gone for ever! How fleeting is time! How soon will it be lost in eternity! In the last year I hope I have laid myself out more for God, and trust that all my privileges have not been unimproved. But how many things have I to mourn over, and repent of! How many backslidings of heart! How often have I inwardly departed from the Lord! In particular, how have I to mourn over murdered hours! How much time have I spent in unnecessary conversation, sleep, &c.! O my Saviour, sprinkle my heart, and wash away my guilt." To correct these wanderings, and to raise him to that blessed state of mind which, in his better moments, he so strongly coveted; were, doubtless, among the primary reasons why his God and Saviour permitted him so often, and so grievously to suffer. And this he readily acknowledged. Recovering out of one affliction, he writes to a friend thus: " I thank God, however, for the lessons I have learned in, and from, my affliction. I believe I shall be an eternal gainer thereby.' Writing to the same friend, at another time, when he was confined, he says, "I fear that I have not yet learned all my Divine Master designed in throwing me aside by afflicting me. I mean the great lesson, the perfection of our religion, cheerful acquiescence in all the will of God. This blessed state of mind fits the soul to mingle with the shining throng before the throne of God. |