few days; in its power, producing the severest anguish of soul, carrying some nearly to despair, and in some instances issuing in conversion in a few days; and in its being so general among the youth, and almost entirely confined to that class. The first evening which I appointed to converse with persons under religious impressions, 23 attended; (all youths but two.) At the next appointment, 30 were present, and only two of them were over 25 years of age. Last week, on Monday evening, one of my elders who attended with me, and took account, said there were 70, exclusive of 7 who had professed religion. And last Monday evening he said there were 100, beside 20 others not reckoned under deep impressions. These were only what could assemble in the midst of the town in the evening. The night was very dark, and the travelling quite muddy; so that many could not attend; and especially from the extreme parts of the parish. In the afternoon of Tuesday last, appointed to commune with persons under religious impressions, in the most distant corner of the parish; and 32 attended, nearly all youths; and but one had obtained a hope.

"In this general shock, it is difficult to ascertain the number of persons under awakenings: Some say there are not less than 200; but I should say about 150. The work is rapidly progressing and new cases Occur every day. Within a few days past it has begun to pass from the children to the parents, and, I hope, many who have

sinned away the days of youth will yet find mercy. I have just been informed, that one of my neighbors of about 70, and another of 50 years of age, have lately experienced the love of God shed abroad in their hearts, and are now rejoicing in the hope of glory. One of our elders has 7 children under 25 years of age, who are subjects of this work, and six of them, together with a daughter-in-law, have obtained a hope of pardoning mercy. I have conversed with 45, who have obtained a hope that their sins are pardoned through the blood of Jesus. Such a time was never before known in Springfield. We had a revival in 1803, and only 60 were added to the Church in one year. In 1808 we experienced another time of refreshing, and only 54 were received into the Church in the same period. But though we cannot tell what will be the issue of this work, the number will probably be greater. My labors at present are unusually arduous. I feel as though the apostolic direction, Preach the word; be instant in season and out of season, is now to me particularly applicable. During 24 days past, I have been attending the devotions of religious assemblies every evening except two; and though the season has been muddy, and the nights dark, these assemblies have been full. I bless the Lord that my health has not yet failed, though it has been shaken; and I am not without fears. Yet, in the present state of things I dare not relax for one day."

DIED, at Stockbridge, on the 26th of April 1813, Dr. HORATIO JONES, A. M. an eminent physician in that town, aged 43.

At his interment, a sermon was preached, by the Rev. Dr. Hyde of Lee, from Job xix, 21. Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends, for the hand of God hath touched me.

The following extract from the Sermon is no more than a proper tribute to the memory of the deceased, and will evince the high estimation, in which he stood among his acquaintance.

"On the present solemn occasion, we see a number of this people, and many of them the professed friends of the Divine Redeemer, in deep affliction. The hand of God hath touched them, in a tender place. Sore is their bereavement; for they have been called to part with a much valued friend.

"If ever there were mourners, who might with propriety and with a deep

sense of their loss, call for the pity and sympathy of their friends, it may surely be done, by the near relatives and connexions of Dr. Jones, whose death we now lament. He was apparently every thing to them, in their respective relations, that can be comprised in the endearing names of husband, father, brother and friend. Tender in his feelings, obliging in his disposition, familiar in his deportment, and easy of access, it was always pleasant for them to meet him. He was a man of rare endowments and attainments. With him have departed much excellency and worth. And what adds peculiar poignancy to the grief of his friends is, that he is cut down, by the ruthless hand of death, in the midst of life, activity and usefulness. Indescribably great is the breach, which is made upon them. The world has nothing in it to repair their loss. Under this mighty hand of God, they may suitably adopt the words of afflicted Job, Have pity

upon us, have pity upon us, O ye our friends, for the hand of God hath tonched us.

"If ever there were mourners, who might reasonably expect to have the pity, and share in the sympathy of friends, the mourners, on this occasion, may reasonably expect it. The death of Dr. Jones is no common event. His removal from this world, in the midst of his usefulness, is an unspeakable loss to the community. Rarely has this town, or even this county experienced a greater shock, in the death of a citizen. The mourners are not confined to his particular relatives; they are as numerous as his acquaintance; and his acquaintance was extensive.

He was a man of science, a man of much general information, and of acknowledged medical skill. He acquired knowledge, on all subjects, with uncommon facility; and by his diligence and perseverance, he had risen to eminence in his profession. Extensively acquainted with that wonderful machine, that curious specimen of God's workmanship, the human body, and profoundly versed in the healing art, he was able in counsel, and his counsel was much sought, in difficult

cases.

"As a practitioner, he was highly approved and esteemed, being ever prompt to obey the calls of his numerous patients, and making a sacrifice of his own ease, comfort, and interest, that he might if possible, afford them relief. How many in this, and the adjacent towns, to whom he has administered, in their distresses, by night and by day, must be impelled to sympathize with his bereaved family, and lament and mourn, now he is dead! The speaker sensibly feels his obligation to testify his grief, in this public manner, and to lament the death of this important friend, having so recently experienced his kind attention and friendly ai, in a time of sickness and distress in his own family. The physicians, in this part of the county, must feel and acknowledge the claims of his weeping friends on them, for their pity and sympathy.

"In this strain of lamentation, I forbear longer to speak, and desire to acknowledge, that it is the hand of God, which hath touched us all. Dr. Jones was not too valuable and important to die. Though calculated to do much good, he was but an instrument in God's hand. Like the rest of us, he was a worm of the dust, and was ready to acknowledge it. God made him what he was, and God's holy name be praised, that we have had such a blessing in him.

"Unspeakable and wonderful were the mercies of God manifested in his death. He left the world like a Christian, with

calmness, with resignation to the divine will, and with enrapturing views of the mediation, all sufficiency and glory of Jesus Christ, employing much of his time in fervent prayer, committing his dear family to the mercy and keeping of God, and calling upon his Christian friends to per severe in the ways of the Lord. He appeared to die in the triumphs of faith. Nor did these feelings and views commence with the elosing scene of his life. To some of his particular friends he made a free disclosure of them, nearly three months pre, vious to his sickness. While his life was held in suspense, he was heard to say, that he desired to live only that he might glorify God, by openly professing faith in Jesus Christ, and walking in his commandments and ordinances. In his death my friends, you have seen, we trust, some of the happy fruits of the blessed work, which God has been carrying on among you by his Holy Spirit.

"The mourners if they have been taught rightly to appreciate divine mercies, have much to comfort them, though called to commit to the silent mansions of the dead a friend so highly valued. It would have been their duty to have re signed him into the hands of God, even if they had not been favored with such evidence of his union to Christ; but, when such evidence has been afforded, it would be grieving the Holy Spirit to say in their hearts, that it was not enough-that they must have had more-that their friend must have survived. This would be putting an higher estimate on natural than spiritual life; and of course would be undervaluing the work of the Holy Spirit. God can take care of the sorrowful widow, and the daughter, bereaved of the best of fathers; for He still liveth and is rich and boundless in mercy. He can support the afflicted brethren and sisters, and other numerous relatives. To him let them look, and in him let them trust. May God, in his infinite mercy, give them the pity, the counsel and the fervent prayers, of their Christian friends."

To the foregoing extract is subjoined a more particular account of the appearance and conversation of Dr. J. in the closing scene of life.

He died, of the prevailing epidemic, and on the eighth day of his illness. It pleased God to continue to him, during his sickness, the full possession of his reason. His mind was calm and tranquil, and sweetly resigned to the will of heaven. Being asked, by his wife, in the early stage of the disorder, if he were desirous of recovering, he replied, “I think I should rejoice to recover, if it is God's will; but, if not, I do not think I wish it. He certainly knows what is best." He expressed, at times,

some doubts and fears, respecting the state of his soul, appearing sensible of the great danger he was in of being deceived, and the inconceivable misery into which such a deception would plunge him. He would often say, "It is a great thing to be prepared to die! I have had but little time to try myself! It is a great thing to die!"

After enduring, for some hours, extreme bodily distress, he said to his wife, "The prospect of my recovery is small indeed. I am sure, if I do not soon get relief, I shall continue but a short time; but I am not anxious. God has a right to dispose of me, and all others, as he sees fit, and I am willing to leave it with him."

To one of his sisters, who resided in his house, and who had been a professor of religion many years, he said, "You have acted the wisest part of any of our family, because you began to love and serve God, when young. Though you have been unfortunate, in other respects, you have had a better portion given you. Religion affords the greatest enjoyment we can have in this world."

To his only daughter and child who was about ten years old, he said, "Your Papa loves you, and has always loved you most dearly. I thank you for all your kindness and affection to me. I am now going to leave you. You too must die. Remember what I have often taught you. Pray daily to God, and seek an interest in Christ, now while you are young. Be obedient and affectionate to your Mamma, and do what you can for her comfort."

After this he drew the face of his wife to him, and related many particulars respecting his conversion, which he had not previously done; adding, "Though the time I have had to try myself has been short, I have a consoling hope of an interest in the Savior. We must part; but I trust our separation will be but short." He then addressed himself to all, who were present, and said, "I am soon to leave this world; but my mind is calm and composed to a degree, that astonishes myself. I feel no anxiety about myself nor fear of death."

The day before he died, being the Sabbath, he united with his wife, in publicly asking the prayers of God's people for them. After having a note, for that purpose, written and read to him, he thought the name of Jesus was not mentioned, and desired it might be altered; but on hearing the note again, he found it was mentioned, and was satisfied. He was heard often to say, "Let Jesus and dying love be all my theme." He observed, "If I only had strength to talk, and could see infidels and unbelievers, with whom I have been acquainted; it appears to me I could convince them. O that my death

might be the means of awakening my intimate friends in this street."

As the sun went down on the Sa bath, he said, "The last Sabbath's sun is set to me." A friend observed to him, "I trust you are about to enter on an eternal Sabbath of rest in heaven." He replied, "I hope, I trust, I believe, I shall soon enter upon it."

A female friend coming in, he took her by the hand, and said, "I am very glad to see you once more. I have long been sensible of the friendship, which has subsisted between you and my wite, and I trust it is of that nature, which will be lasting, and as I believe you have taken an interest with her, for my eternal welfare, I have desired to thank you for it. If I ever experienced a change of heart it was last winter, and instantaneously." Turning to those around him, he said, "Don't weep for me. Don't regret that I must die now; but praise God, that he did not call me six months ago."

A little before death closed his eyes, he made a most fervent prayer, and committed his departing soul to Jesus. He turned himself on his back, extended his arms each side of the bed, raised his eyes toward heaven, and said, "Jesus, I expand my arms to receive thee. Happy! Happy beyond expression! Ye spirits, in yonder sky, receive my soul, and take it to Jesus!"

Thus his spirit took its flight, and is now, we humbly hope, united with saints and angels, in ascribing glory and honor and power to Him, who sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb, forever.

light,

And orange groves to soft repose invite. Phenician lords first gave the natives law, Till Greece with mightier sway awak'd their awe,

Though scarce the shallow soil and scant domain

Could tempt the av'rice of the haughty train.

Then Carthaginian darts in wrath were hurl'd

Till Rome's proud sceptre nodded o'er the world,

And, rising from her throne, she bound with care

This little gem to grace her flowing hair. But soon her iron arm was bent and broke, And this sad island bore a changeful yoke, Fierce on her temples falls the Gothic

scourge,

And Norman lords their proud dominion urge,

Till o'er her head a host are seen to wield

The tempest's wing a lonely vessel bore; The mountain waves, in awful fury rose, And op'ning gulphs the secret depths disclose;

The lightning's pointed spears around were driven,

And thunders rent the darken'd vault of heaven;

Loud shriek'd the wild winds in their trackless path,

And lash'd the surge to most ungovern'd wrath,

Till with resistless force the furious blast The sinking vessel on the quick-sands cast.

Sad, weary, faint, the unprotected train Trust their last fortunes to the faithless main,

Raise their weak hands above the billowy foam,

And think, despairing, of their distant home.

The natives, watching from their sea-girt soil,

View'd the spent suff'rers at their feeble toil,

Held the light torch above the surge's roar, Lent the kind hand to aid them to the shore,

Gave a glad shelter from the stormy wind, And with warm welcome cheer'd the sinking mind.†

(To be continued.)

We very much regret, that we are obliged to divide this poem. We supposed that the whole would come within our limits, till after the preceding matter was in type, and was so arranged, that no considerable alteration could be made without great difficulty.

* The memorable siege of Malta began in 1566; and 20,000 Turks were slain be The

* Malta has a most delightful climate. †This island was given to the knights of Malta in the year 1529.