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Industriously she pass'd the week,

No idleness she knew :
But to the Sabbath's holy rest,

She paid the reverence due.
Her children to the Sunday school

Were always early sent :
Herself and husband to the Church,

Most regularly went.
This parish had a Minister,

Who was a shepherd true :
He mark'd the conduct of his flock,

And all the good he knew.
His favour frequently was shewn

To Andrews and his wife ;
For well he knew that they did lead

An honest pious life.
Their Sunday's dinner oft he gave;

But, what they valued more,
He fed their souls with heay'nly food,

From Scripture's sacred store:
He

gave them many pious books, And often would direct their steps

to God,
To tread that holy road.
Long time this worthy pastor liv'd

By all the parish bless'd;
At length his heav'nly Master callid

Him to his holy rest.

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His weeping servants round the bed,

All stood with list'ning ear,
To catch their Master's dying words,

And Mary, she was there.
No heart more pierc'd with grief than hers,

Her sighs to Heav'n ascend; “ When I lose you, my Master dear,

I lose my only friend: « If wants arise who is there now

" That will those wants remove? « Or who will teach me how to seek

“ Assistance from above?" The dying man just spoke these words,

While all his words attend : 16 Trust thou in God, who trusts in him

w Will never want a friend." His words sunk deep in Mary's heart,

Much comfort they did give: Resolu'd these words she'd ne'er forget,

So long as she did live. Some years rolld on, and things went well,

At length mishaps arose; Poor John fell sick, and could not work,

Nor were these all their woes; But Mary too was grown so lame,

She could not turn her wheel : Sad, sad, it is when old and sick Want's heavy hand to feel.

'Tis

• Tis true the parish would relieve,

The workhouse would them take;'
But much she mourn'd her house to quit,

Hur long-lov'd home forsake.
With aching heart she reach'd from shelf

Her only loaf of bread:
And while the tears roll'd down her cheeks

With frequent sobs she said; “ My Master, now a saint in Heav'n,

“ Bade me, when near his end, “ To trust in God, and then he said,

“ I ne'er should want a friend. “ In thee, O Lord, I put my trust,

“ Thou canst my woes remove, " Or grant me grace to bear them still

“ With patience, for Thy love." Just then she heard one at the door

Who tried to move the pin;
She thought some friendly neighbour call’d,

And rose to let her in.
A friendly Neighbour sure it was !

Such as the poor man found,
Who having fallen the thieves among,

Lay dying on the ground.
Good Danie, said she, I'm lately come

Within this town to live;
And such a character of you
Do all the parish give,

That

That I an offer to you make

My School-mistress to be ;
To teach poor children and for this,

You shall be paid by me.
Your own you have so well brought up,

I safely can you trust;
You'll teach them God to fear and love,

To be both good and just.
With thankful heart Dame Andrews heard,

This welcome offer made;
And soon the litttle folk were sent,

And duly she was paid.
To God her daily thanks she gave,

And all the children taught,
In Him to put their trust; and told

The Mercies he had wrought.

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98

THE

STORY OF SINFUL SALLY.

TOLD BY HERSELF.

SHEWING

How from being Sally of the GREEN she was

first led to become SINFUL SALLY, and af. terwards DRUNKEN SAL, and how at laa she came to a most melancholy, and almost hopeless, End; being therein a Warning to all young Women both in Town and Country,

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OME each maiden lend an ear,

Country lass and London belle ! Come and drop a mournful tear

O'er the tale that I shall tell.
I that ask your tender pity,

Ruin'd now and all forlorn,
Once, like you, was young and pretty,

And as cheerful as the morn.
In yon distant cottage sitting,

Far away from London town,
Once you might have seen me knitting

In my simple kersey gown.
Where the little lambkins leap,

Where the meadows look so gay, Where the drooping willows weep, Simple Sally used to stray.

Then

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