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his warnings and reproofs, which were generally salutary and kindly received.

In his whole deportment, there was a something, which made those who had no religion say, "We believe he is a Christian, and is happy "

During the short sickness which terminated his life, he was wholly deprived of his reason. But from what he said to his wife a short time before his death, there is reason to believe he did not expect to live but a few weeks, and therefore that the summons of death came not before he expected it.

Reader, art thou a Christian indeed, or

art thou deceiving thyself with a false hope, nor knowest what godly sorrow for sin is? Thou art in danger of mistaking conviction for conversion, and of build ing on the sand. Some have the form of godliness without the power. Hast thou given up thyself to Christ, and dost thou rejoice in his government? Dost thou love God with all thy heart and keep his commandments? Is Christ precious to thy soul? If a man thinketh, himself to be something when he is nothing he deceiv eth himself. Oh, examine thy heart, lest thou be deceived with a false hope to thine eternal ruin.

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POETRY.

From a poem of considerable length on the death of a sister, (communicated to us some time ago,) we publish the concluding lines.

"WHAT are we? What is life? and what

is death?

We look around us, draw our mortal

breath,

Catch at the tinsel toys that float in air, And deem them treasures that we soon shall share.

But vain our toils; the phantoms flit away, And disappointments ope each new-born day.

Yet still we toil, regardless of our doom, Till death conducts us to the silent tomb. Oh, my lov'd sister, I am sick of life; "Tis fill'd with sorrow, vanity, and strife. Hope still deludes us, though afflictions wound,

And still we range the same unwearied round.

Our search for happiness in vain we waste; "Th' immortal bev'rage none but angels taste.'

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Farewell, dear sister, may affliction prove The lasting cement of our warmest love.”

The following delicate verses appeared in a London paper two or three years ago. We intended to have inserted them earlier in our pages.

THE TWINS.

TWAS Summer, and a Sabbath eve, And balmy was the air,

Isaw a sight which made me grieve And yet the sight was fair;

Within a little coffin lay

Two lifeless babes, as sweet as May.

Like waxen dolls that infants dress,
There little bodies were;
A look of placid happiness
Did on each face appear:

And in the coffin, short and wide,
They lay together, side by side.

A rosebud nearly clos'd, I found

Each little hand within, And many a pink was strow'd around, With sprigs of jessamine;

And yet the flow'rs that round them lay,

Were not to me more fair than they.

Their mother as a lily pale,

Sat by them on a bed-
And bending o'er them told her tale,
And many a tear she shed;

Yet oft she cried, amidst her pain,
"My babes and I shall meet again."

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

THE expediency of publishing the commu nication of E. S. still remaining on our files, is so far doubtful that we decline inserting it.

Memoirs of the Hon. SAMUEL OSGOOD, and Mr. JONATHAN SEWALL BUCK, will be published in our next.

No. VII on Intemperance is ready for the press.

A paper on The Duty of Admonition will soon appear.

PANOPLIST,

AND

MISSIONARY MAGAZINE.

No. 10. NOVEMBER, (PART II.) 1813. VOL. IX.

BIOGRAPHY.

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THE reader will not find in these remarks a portrait of one mighty in the field of battle, applauded in the hall of litigation, renowned in affairs of state, or high in the walks of science But he will find an unflattering miniature of one, who, unobserved, and almost unknown beyond the limits of his native village, passed, in the deserted path of virtue, from his cradle to an early grave.

Jonathan Sewall Buck was born at Buckstown, Maine, on the 27th of May, 1793.

From his infancy he exhibited a mind much inclined to sobriety. This was manifested by indifference to most childish sports, a preference of retirement, and the acquisition of some useful knowledge. As he advanced in years, he discovered the same indifference to those juvenile hilarities, which are so fatally alluring, and which so of ten plunge their unsuspecting votaries into vice and ruin. This VOL. IX.

was neither the effect of stoicism, nor stupidity. But seeing the dangerous snare, he determined to avoid it. His cautious dispo sition caused him to speak with disapprobation of some amusements, which are, perhaps, perfectly harmless. Upon this point, however, the writer hazards no decision. He is aware, that the first step in guilt is near the last in innocence,

The subject of this memoir became early attached to books, and particularly that book of books, the BIBLE. Amidst a variety of reading, this was his daily study. Having been blessed with a precise and retentive memory, he became a living concordance. Few persons of any age, or profession, are SO well acquainted with the Scriptures as he was. His intimacy with the Sacred Volume held the divine rule of duty constantly before him. This operating upon a mind "whose very failings leaned to virtue's side," produced that habitual regard for morality which marked his conduct. Constant, and solemn attention to the worship of God; reverence for his sacred name; and strict observance of the holy Sabbath; were some of his most shining virtues. His filial affec tion and obedience, together

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with his attention to the injunctions and wishes of superiors; assiduous care to promote the welfare of others, and grief when he saw any abandoned to destructive habits; chaste conversation and behavior; strict fidelity; undeviating veracity, and ha. tred of slander; punctilious rendering to all their dues; and unwearied efforts to influence others to like practices; proved him no careless observer of the second table of commands.

ing to propitiate the Deity with a formal round of duties. Thus he lived; now tormented with fear, and again resting in forgetfulness, until about two years before his death. Then his convictions became deeper, and more abiding. His solicitude was never of that distressing kind which approaches distraction; yet it was sufficient to keep alive a spirit of inquiry, and close attention. In this condition he remained nearly a year; sometimes consoling himself with hope, but oftener depressed with anxious doubts. He first

In him, penetration, prudence and judgment were ever far in advance of his age. When no known precept would apply; he seem-cherished a lasting hope in Noed to adopt right by intuition. vember 1812. For dissipating His disposition was benevolent his doubts, and confirming his and charitable. His manners hope, he was much indebted to being of a rigid cast, were cal- Mr. Newton's Cardiphonia. In culated rather to secure the the writings of that "anatomist warm attachment of a few, than of the human heart," he found to win the friendship of the his own case clearly described, many. Added to this were his and drawn in such a manner, as inflexible opposition to vice; his to afford him great comfort; pointed, and in some instances, though his comfort was accompa severe reproofs. Yet none of nied with most debasing views of his age had a larger share of his sinfulness, and of his coldpublic esteem; none had fewer ness and indifference in the ser personal enemies. But we turn vice of his Maker. As his anxiety to a more interesting part of his had never approached distrac character. tion, so his rejoicing never savored of enthusiasm. He re joiced with trembling. It was a business which engrossed much of his time, to learn the feelings of ancient and modern saints, and by them to try his own. This was attended by increasing assurance, that he had experi enced the regenerating effects of the Divine Spirit. The precise time of this change he nev er attempted, or wished, to fix. He believed, that whereas he was once blind, he now saw. Whereas he once hated God and all holiness, rejected salva

While yet a child, he became convinced of the woeful lapse of man; his total depravity; the necessity of regeneration; and the impossibility of meriting salvation by the deeds of the law. Those weighty truths often made deep impressions on his mind, and determined him to repentance, and a life of holiness. But thoughts thus unpleasant were unwelcome visitors, and soon dismissed. He would then, notwithstanding his firm belief as above stated, quiet his apprehensions by endeavor

tion by Christ, and resisted the Holy Spirit; then he loved the perfections of Jehovah, and holiness, wherever discoverable, and ardently desired more of it in himself. He wished for no other mode of salvation but through the atoning sacrifice of the Lamb of God; and sincerely implored the sanctifying and enlightening influence of the heavenly Comforter. Upon this belief he built his hope; a hope of ten shaken, and sometimes almost demolished by a sense of his extreme sinfulness and liability to yield to the temptations of Satan,

Early in the spring, he manifested a desire publicly to dedicate himself to God, and join the church of Christ. Upon examination for admission to church fellowship, though he furnished not all the evidence desirable, he gave good satisfaction, and was cordially welcomed as a member in full communion. In May, he received the ordinance of baptism, and entered into covenant with the church under the pastoral charge of the Rev. Mighill Blood. After what has been said, it will be almost superfluous to add, that his conduct adorned his profession.

We have followed our subject thus far without any thing to interrupt our pleasure. It remains for us to follow him, through the valley of affliction, down to the chambers of the grave.

As increasing darkness increases the brilliancy of luminous bodies; so he shone brighter as the clouds of affliction darkened, and brightest in the deep shades of death.

From his birth his constitution had been feeble, but not so feeble as to make him incapable of business, until the spring of 1812. He then received an injury in his side, which greatly impaired his health, and disqualified him from bodily exertion. His complaints, however, were not very alarming until the succeeding autumn. Medical aid was resorted to, but without any lasting advantage. His disorder became more and more established, and every hope of recovery gradually gave place to apprehensions that his disor der must prove fatal. Upon this point he never expressed much concern; but waited with resignation the issue. When all expectation of recovery failed, he exhibited no alarm, but with perfect composure made all his arrangements for his departure. Among these was an interview with his brothers and sisters, collectively, a few days before his death; at which time he exhorted them, as a dying brother, to secure an interest in the only Redeemer, by devoting themselves to their Creator; distributed among them his books, &c. and, requesting them to kneel around his bed, commended them to the grace of God by prayer.

His anxious concern for the souls of others was apparent in most that he said to those of his young friends, who called upon him. He once said, that should his sickness be the means of causing one soul to feel the importance of a preparation for death, so as to make its peace with God, that alone would be a sufficient inducement to bear it all patiently,

As death drew near, his hope grew stronger. Indeed his faith was fixed. Disclaiming all personal merit, his only ground of confidence was in the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. His views of the character of the Savior were exalted. The divinity of Christ was an article in his creed of prime importance.

His pains greatly increased during the last days of his life, yet he seldom complained; and if he did, he mixed his complaints with praises, that his sufferings were so disproportionate

to his deserts.

Whenever he requested the prayers of Christians, his request was for resignation and patience. Many valuable sayings which fell from his lips might be recorded; but it must suffice to quote a few of those which cheered his dying moments. After expressing his belief that he was dying, he added, "I am in great distress at my stomach, but I hope I shall have patience." A short time before he expired, he exclaimed, "None but Christ! none but Christ for me!" He expressed his ardent desire to depart by repeating the following stanza of Dr. Watts's 17th Psalm.

"This life's a dream, an empty show; But the bright world, to which I go, Hath joys substantial and sincere; When shall I wake and find me there?"

Soon after this, his father ask ed if his faith still supported him? He replied, "O yes Sir!" and immediately expiring, no doubt was borne by waiting angels to the mansions of bliss.

Thus died this valuable youth on the 28th of September, 1813.

For the Panoplist.

MEMOIR OF THE HON. SAMUEL OSGOOD, WHO DIED AT NEW YORK, AUG. 12, 1813.

THE subject of this notice was the third son of Peter Osgood and Sarah Johnson. He was born in the North Parish in Andover, (Mass.) Feb. 14, 1748.

In

In July 1766, he was admitted a member of Harvard College, and sustained the reputation of a good general scholar, throughout his collegiate course. Mathematics and the Greek language, he made distinguished proficiency. In the latter branch of education he was acknowledged to be the first in his class; and, when he graduated, was honored with the writing of the mathematical theses.

Mr. Osgood acted a very de cided and conspicuous part in the early difficulties which subsisted between this country and Britain. In the year 1774, when the dispute between the colonies and the mother country began to wear a gloomy aspect, the town of Andover appointed him their delegate to the State Congress, and by that body he was appointed a member of the Board of War. He was continued a member of the State Congress till the year 1780. During this year the State Constitution was adopted; and upon the first election under it, the County of Essex returned Mr. Osgood as one of their Senators. In the spring of 1781, the Legislature appointed him a Delegate to the Congress of the United States. In this situation he was continued, as long as the consti tution would allow him to hold

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