And that alone hath overthrown,
And utterly undone us.

Not we, but he ate of the tree,
Whose fruit was interdicted:
Yet on us all of his sad fall,

The punishment's inflicted.
How could we sin that had not been,
Or how is his sin our

Without consent, which to prevent,
We never had a power?

O great Creator, why was our nature
Depraved and forlorn?

Why so defil'd, and made so vild
Whilst we were yet unborn?
If it be just and needs we must
Transgressors reckon❜d be,
Thy mercy, Lord, to us afford,
Which sinners hath set free.

Behold we see Adam set free,
And sav'd from his trespass,
Whose sinful fall hath split us all,
And brought us to this pass.
Canst thou deny us once to try,
Or grace to us to tender,

When he finds grace before thy face,
That was the chief offender?"

Then answered the judge most dread,
"God doth such doom forbid,

That men should die eternally
For what they never did.
But what you call old Adam's fall,
And only his trespass,

You call amiss to call it his,

Both his and yours it was,

He was design'd of all mankind
To be a public head,

A common root, whence all should shoot,

And stood in all their stead.

He stood and fell, did ill or well,

Not for himself alone,

But for you all, who now his fall

And trespass would disown.

If he had stood, then all his brood
Had been established

In God's true love never to move,
Nor once awry to tread:

Then all his race, my Father's grace,
Should have enjoy'd for ever,

And wicked sprites by subtle sleights
Could then have harmed never.

Would you have griev'd to have receiv'd
Through Adam so much good,
And had been your for evermore,
If he at first had stood?

Would you have said, 'we ne'er obey'd,
Nor did thy laws regard;

It ill befits with benefits,
Us, Lord, so to reward.'

Since then to share in his welfare,
You could have been content,

You may with reason share in his treason,
And in the punishment.

Hence you were born in state forlorn,

With nature so deprav'd:

Death was your due, because that you

Had thus yourselves behav'd.

You think, 'if we had been as he,
Whom God did so betrust,

We to our cost would ne'er have lost
All for a paltry lust.'

Had you been made in Adam's stead,
You would like things have wrought,
And so into the selfsame wo,

Yourselves and yours have brought.

I may deny you once to try,

Or grace to you to tender,

Though he finds grace before my face,
Who was the chief offender:

Else should my grace cease to be grace;
For it should not be free,

If to release whom I should please,

I have no liberty.

If upon one what's due to none

I frankly shall bestow,

And on the rest shall not think best,
Compassion's skirts to throw,
Whom injure I? will you envy,
And grudge at others' weal?
Or me accuse, who do refuse
Yourselves to help and heal.

Am I alone for what's my own,
No master or no Lord?
O if I am, how can you claim
What I to some afford?

Will you demand grace at my hand,
And challenge what is mine?
Will you teach me whom to set free,
And thus my grace confine?

You sinners are, and such a share
As sinners may expect,

Such you shall have; for I do save
None but my own elect.
Yet to compare your sin with their
Who liv'd a longer time,
I do confess yours is much less,
Though every sin's a crime.

A crime it is, therefore in bliss
You may not hope to dwell
But unto you I shall allow

The easiest room in hell."
The glorious king thus answering,
They cease, and plead no longer:

Their consciences must needs confess

His reasons are the stronger.

Thus all men's pleas the judge with ease

Doth answer and confute.

Until that all, both great and small,

Are silenced and mute.

Vain hopes are crop'd, all mouths are stop'd, Sinners have nought to say,

But that 'tis just, and equal most

They should be damn'd for aye.

Now what remains, but that to pains
And everlasting smart,

Christ should condemn the sons of men,
Which is their just desert;

Oh rueful plights of sinful wights!

Oh wretches all forlorn:

"T had happy been they ne'er had seen
The sun, or not been born.

*

*

*

The saints behold with courage bold,

And thankful wonderment,

To see all those that were their foes
Thus sent to punishment:
Then do they sing unto their king
A song of endless praise:
They praise his name and do proclaim
That just are all his ways.

Thus with great joy and melody
To heaven they all ascend,

Him there to praise with sweetest lays,

And hymns that never end.

Where with long rest they shall be blest,
And nought shall them annoy:
Where they shall see as seen they be,
And whom they love enjoy.

BENJAMIN COLMAN.

BENJAMIN COLMAN was born in Boston, October 19, 1767, and was the companion of Cotton Mather at the celebrated school of Ezekiel Cheever.* He was admitted into Harvard College in 1688, and after receiving his degree of Bachelor of

* Cheever died in 1708, at the age of ninetyfour, beloved and honored by all who knew him. Mather wrote an elegy on his death, which runs in this manner;

VOL. I.

A mighty tribe of well instructed youth,
Tell what they owe to him and tell with truth.
All the eight parts of speech he taught to them,
They now employ to trumpet his esteem.
Magister pleas'd them well because 'twas he;
They say that bonus did with it agree.
While they said amo, they the hint improve,
Him for to make the object of their love.
No concord so inviolate they knew,
As to pay honors to their master due,
With interjections they break off at last,
But ah is all they use, wo, and alas!

5

Arts commenced the study of Theology. In July 1695, he embarked for London, with the intention of qualifying himself for his profession by an observation of men and manners in a wider sphere of action than the thinly settled and almost desolate Colonies of New England. He embarked on board "the good ship Swan," but in a few days she was found to be in a leaky condition, and the voyage was consequently prolonged to an unusual extent. Seven weeks had elapsed before the passengers could with safety indulge in the hope of a speedy relief from the tediousness of their situation, when an incident occurred which dimmed their brightest hopes. It was a fine morning in the early part of September; the breeze was just strong enough to allow all sail to be set to advantage, and the wearied inmates of the cabin, as they came on deck and received an answer in the affirmative to their often repeated inquiry whether the wind was fair, were gaily congratulating each other on the prospect of a quick passage to the desired haven. In a few minutes the cry, 66 a sail," was heard, and far on the weather quarter a white spot could be seen, which before noon proved to be a light and fleet vessel bearing down upon the Swan with every yard of canvass extended. She was supposed to be a French privateer, and after the female passengers had been assisted to a place of security, the necessary arrangements were made for her reception.

There was a young man on board the English vessel who had often taken great pains to annoy his companions in the cabin by his malicious and atheistical sallies of wit. Before a gun was fired he informed Mr Colman, who was equipping himself with a musket and ammunition, that the passengers were seeking refuge below. "Sir," was the reply, "I shall use my poor endeavors in protecting this ship from the enemy.” The other was so much abashed, and his shame so far surmounted his cowardice, that he determined to join in the fight. At the first discharge of small arms, however, he fell upon the deck, completely overcome by fear, and remained there till the Frenchman fell astern for a few moments to repair damages, when he lifted up his head and inquired "where is the