Hark! the turtle's plaintive song
Seems to speak his dying groans!

Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of his worth;
"Tis his sun that lights and warms,
His the air that cools the earth.

What! has Autumn left to say
Nothing of a Saviour's grace?
Yes, the beams of milder day
Tell me of his smiling face.

Light appears with early dawn,
While the sun makes haste to rise;

See his bleeding beauties drawn
On the blushes of the skies.

Evening with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,

Shows an emblem of his

grace,

Points to an eternal rest.

LXVII. LONGING TO BE WITH CHRIST.

To Jesus, the Crown of my hope,

My soul is in haste to be gone:

O bear me, ye cherubim, up,

And waft me away to his throne !

My Saviour, whom absent, I love,
Whom, not having seen, I adore;
Whose name is exalted above

All glory, dominion, and power.

Dissolve thou these bonds, that detain
My soul from her portion in thee;

Ah! strike off this adamant chain
And make me eternally free.

When that happy era begins,

When array'd in thy glories I shine, Nor grieve any more, by my sins,

The bosom on which I recline:

O then shall the veil be remov'd

And round me thy brightness be pour'd
I shall meet him whom absent I lov'd,
I shall see whom unseen I ador'd.

And then, never more shall the fears,
The trials, temptations, and woes,
Which darken this valley of tears,
Intrude on my blissful repose.

Or, if yet remember'd above,

Remembrance no sorrow shall raise; They will be but new signs of thy love, New themes for my wonder and praise.

Thus the strokes which from sin and from pain
Shall set me eternally free,

Will but strengthen and rivet the chain
Which binds me, my Saviour, to thee.

LXVIII. LIGHT SHINING OUT OF DARKNESS.

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 sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage tako,
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 every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,*
And scan his work in vain :
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

* John xiii. 7.

BRIEF ACCOUNT OF MADAME GUION.

AND OF

THE MYSTIC WRITERS.

THE mystic writers, though the object of so much public attention in France, towards the close of the seventeenth century, have never attracted much notice in this country, and are known rather as a matter of historical fact than of personal interest. It is to Cowper that we are indebted for the translation of the Hymns of Madame Guion, the founder, or rather reviver, of the Mystics; for it is evident from ecclesiastical history, that they existed so early as in the third and fourth centuries, and that the habits of profound contemplation and retirement from the world, in which they indulged, led to the monastic seclusion of which St. Anthony was the most eminent example. Dionysius the Areopagite is, however, generally considered to be the founder of this sect in the fourth century. Macarius and Hilarion are also included among its supporters. The celebrated Thomas à Kempis, in the fifteenth century, adopted a kind of purified mysticism. Molino, a Spanish priest, though resident at Rome, still fur

ther extended these views; till at length Madame Guion, in the reign of Louis XIV., embodied them in their present form, which is known in France under the name of Quietism, from the calm repose and indifference to external objects which is characteristic of these principles.

The Mystics professed to elevate the soul above all sensible and terrestrial objects, and to unite it to the Deity in an ineffable manner; to inculcate a pure and absolutely disinterested love of God, for his own sake, and on account of his adorable perfections: to maintain a close and intimate communion with him by mortifying all the senses, by a profound submission to his will, even under the consciousness of perdition, and by an internal sanctity of heart, strengthened by a holy and sublime contemplation. We shall shortly examine this system, and inquire how far this indifference to salvation, from a supposed conformity to the will of God, is founded either on reason or Scripture; and whether the pure love of God, independent of his love to us, and of our personal interest in the blessings of redemption, is a state of mind to be generally attained.

But we shall first advert to the manner in which Madame Guion was led to embrace these views, and illustrate them by a reference to her own writings. After endeavoring, by unceasing efforts, and many acts of external piety, to raise her mind to a high