TURN THE CARPET : 
 
 % neto ein&tmas ©pinn: 
 
 THE 
 
 NOBLE ARMY OF MARTYRS: 
 
 AND, THE PLOW BOY'S DREAM. 
 
 Sold by HOWARD and EVANS, 
 
 (Printers to the Cheap Repository for Moral and ReligionsTracIs,) 
 No. 41 ami \ c l^Lon^Lunc. i \ 'csiSmith field, Sf J.li ATC I i ARD, 
 No. 1D0, ViieudiUij, Lowh»i. By S. HAZARD, Bafh; and 
 hy all Booksellers, Newsmen & Hawkers in Town k Country 
 Great Allowance will be made to Shopkeepers and Hawkers. 
 PR K K ON K PE&NV, Or <j, v . per Hundred* 
 
TURN THE CARPET; 
 
 OR 
 
 THE TWO WEAVERS : 
 
 A NEW SONG, 
 In a Dialogue between Dick and John. 
 
 AS at their work two Weavers sat, 
 Beguiling time with friendly chat, 
 They touch'd upon the price of meat, 
 So high a Weaver scarce could eat. 
 
 ** What with my brats and sickly wife," 
 Quoth Dick, <f I'm almost tir'd of life ; 
 So hard my woi'k, so poor my fare, 
 'Tis more than mortal man can bean 
 
 How glorious is the rich man's state ! 
 His house so fine ! his wealth so great ! 
 Heaven is unjust you must agree; 
 Why all to him, why none to me ? 
 
 In spite of what the Scripture teaches, 
 In spite of all the Parson preaches, 
 This world indeed ( I've thought so long) 
 Is rul'd, methinks extremely wrong. 
 
Where'er I look, howe'er I range, 
 'Tis all confus'd, and hard, and strange ; 
 The. good are troubled and oppress'd, 
 And all the wicked are the bless'd." 
 
 Quoth John, " our ign ranee is the cause 
 Why thus we blame our Maker's laws ; 
 Parts of bis ways alone we know, 
 'Tis ail that man can see below. 
 
 See'st thou that carpet not half done, 
 Which thou, dear Dick, hast well begun? 
 Behold the wild confusion there, 
 So rude the mass it makes one stare ! 
 
 A stranger, ign'rarit of the trade, 
 Would say no meaning's there convey 'd ; 
 For where's the middle, where's the border, 
 Thy carpet now is all disorder." 
 
 Quoth Dick, " my work is yet in bits, 
 But still in every part it fits ; 
 Besides, you reason like a lout, 
 Why, man, that Carpet's inside out.' 3 
 
 Says John, " thou sa> \t the thing I mean, 
 And now 1 hope to cure thy spleen • 
 This world which clouds thy soul with doubt. 
 Is but a Carpel inside out. 
 
 As when we view these shreds and ends, 
 We know not what the whole incends ; 
 So whui on earth things lcok but odd, 
 They're working still some scheme of God, 
 
 No plan, no pattern can we trace, 
 All wants proportion, truth, and grace; 
 The motley mixture we deride, 
 Nor see the beauteous upper side, 
 
But when we reach that world of light, 
 And view these things of God aright, 
 Then shall we see the whole design, 
 And own the workman is divine** 
 
 What now seem random strokes, will there 
 All order and design appear ; 
 Then shall we praise what here we spurn'd, 
 For then the Carpet shall be turn'd" 
 
 s< Thou'rt right (quoth Dick) no more I'll grumble 
 That this sad world's so strange a jumble ; 
 My impious doubts are put to flight, 
 For my own Carpet sets me right." 
 
 Z. 
 
A NEW 
 
 CHRISTMAS HYMN. 
 
 HOW wond'rous is the story 
 Of our blest Redeemer's birth ! 
 See the mighty Lord of Glory 
 Leaves his heaven to visit earth ! 
 
 Hear with transport, every creature, 
 Hear the Gospel's joyful sound; 
 
 Christ appears in human nature, 
 In our sinful world is found ; 
 
 Comes to pardon our transgression, 
 Like a cloud our sins to blot, 
 
 Comes to his own favoured nation, 
 But his own receive him not. 
 
 If the angels who atttended 
 
 To declare the declare the Saviour's b 
 Who from heaven with songs descended 
 
 To proclaim good* will on earth ; 
 
 If, in pity to our blindness, 
 
 They had brought the pardon needed, 
 Still Jehovah's wond'rous kindness 
 
 Had our warmest hopes exceeded ; 
 
If some prophet had been sent 
 With salvation's joyful news, 
 
 Who that heard that blest event 
 Could their warmest love refuse ? 
 
 But 'twas He to whom in Heaven 
 
 Hallelujah's never cease; 
 He, the mighty God, was given, 
 
 G iven to us a Prince of Peace. 
 
 None but he who did create us, 
 Could redeem from sin and hell; 
 
 None but he could reinstate us 
 In the rank from which we fell. 
 
 Had he come the glorious stranger, 
 Deck'd with all the world calls great, 
 
 Had he liv'd in pomp and grandeur, 
 Crown'd with more than royal state; 
 
 Still our tongues with praise o'erflowing, 
 On such boundless love could dwell, 
 
 Still our hearts with rapture glowing, 
 Speaks what words could never tell. 
 
 But what wonder should it saise 
 Thus our lower state to borrow ! 
 
 O the high mysterious ways, 
 
 God's own Son a child of sorrow ! 
 
 'Twas to bring us endless pleasure, 
 He our suffering nature bore, 
 
 Twas to give us endless treasure 
 He was willing to be poor. 
 
 Come, ye rich, survey the stable 
 Where your infant Savior lies ; 
 
 From your full o'erflowing table 
 Send the hungry good supplies. 
 
Boast not your ennobled stations, 
 Boast not that you're highly fed , 
 
 Jesus, hear it all ye nations, 
 Had not where to lay his head.- 
 
 Learn of me, thus cries the Savior, 
 If my kingdom you'd inherit, 
 
 binner, quit your proud behavior 
 Learn my meek and lowly spirit-. 
 
 Coiiie, ye servants, see your station, 
 * reed from all reproach and shame ; 
 
 He who purchased your salvation 
 Bore a servant's humble name. 
 
 Come, ye poor, some comfort gather, 
 raint not in the race you run, 
 
 Hard the lot your gracious Father 
 Gave his dear, his only Son. 
 
 Think, that if your humbler stations, 
 i-ess of wordly good bestow, 
 
 those stro "g temptations 
 Which from wealth and grandeur flow. 
 
 See your Savior is ascended ! 
 
 See he looks with pity down ! 
 Trust him all will soon be mended 
 
 Bear his cross, you'll share his crown, 
 
THE 
 
 TRUE HEROES; 
 
 t 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE NOBLE ARMY OF MARTYRS 
 
 YOU who love a tale of glory. 
 Listen to the song I sing; 
 Heroes of the Christian story, 
 Are the heroes whom I bring. 
 
 Warriors of the world, avaunt ! 
 
 Other hejoes ine engage ; 
 ? Tis not such as you I want, 
 
 Saints and Martyrs grace my page. 
 
 Warriors who the world subdue, 
 Were but vain and selfish elves; 
 
 While my heroes good and true, 
 Greater far,, subdu'd themselves. 
 
 Fearful Christian ! hear with wonder 
 Of the saints of whom I tell, 
 
 Some were burnt, some sawn asunder, 
 Some by fire or torture fell. 
 
 Some to savage beast were huil'd, 
 Some surviv'd the lion's den; 
 
 Was a persecuting world 
 
 Worthy of these wond'rous men ? 
 
Some in fiery furnace thrown, 
 Yet escap'd unsing'd their hair; 
 
 There Almighty power was shown. 
 For the Son of God was there. 
 
 Now we crown with deathless fame, 
 Those who scorn'd and hated fell ; 
 Worldlings fear contempt and shame, 
 
 sin and hell. 
 
 How the shower of stones descended, 
 Holy Stephen on thy head ! 
 
 While thy tongue the truth defended, 
 How the glorious Martyr bled I 
 
 See his fierce reviler Saul, 
 
 How he rails with impious breath ! 
 Then observe converted Paul, 
 Oft in perils, oft in death. 
 
 God alone, whose sovereign power, 
 
 Did the lion's fury swage, 
 Could alone in one short hour, 
 
 Still the persecutor's rage. 
 
 Ev'n a woman — women hear, 
 Read in Maccabees the story! 
 
 Conquer'd nature, love, and fear, 
 To obtain a Crown of glory. 
 
 Seven stout sons she saw expire, 
 
 (How the mother's soul was pain'd ?) 
 
 Some by sword, and some by fire, 
 How the Martyr was sustain'd I 
 
 Even in death's accutest anguish, 
 
 Each the tyrant still defy'd; 
 Each she saw in torture languish. 
 
 Last of all the mother dy 'd, 
 
Martyrs who were thus arrested, 
 In their short but bright career, 
 
 By their blood the truth attested, 
 Prov'd their faith and love sincere, 
 
 Tho' their lot was hard and lowly, 
 Tho' they perish'd at the stake ! 
 
 Now they live with God in glory, 
 Since they suffer'd for his sake. 
 
 Fierce and unbelieving foes, 
 But their bodies could destroy ; 
 
 Short, tho' bitter were their woes, 
 Everlasting is their joy. 
 
THE 
 
 PLOW-BOY's DREAM. 
 
 I AM a plow-boy stout and strong, 
 As ever drove a team ; 
 And three years since asleep in bed, 
 
 I had a dreadfui dream : 
 And as thaf dream has done me good, 
 
 I've got it pat in rhyme ; 
 That other boys may read ind sing 
 My dream. when they have time. 
 
 Methought I drove my master's team 
 
 With Dobbin, Ball, and Star, 
 Before a stiff and handy plow, 
 
 As all my master's are ; 
 But found the ground was bak'd so hard, 
 
 And more like brick than clay, 
 I could not cut my furrow clean, 
 
 Nor would my beasts obey. 
 
 The more I wh'ipt, and lash'd, and swore 
 
 The less my cattle stirr'd ; 
 Dobbin laid down, and Ball and Star 
 
 They kick'd and snorted hard : 
 When lo ! above me a bright youth 
 
 Did seem to hang in air, 
 With purple wings and golden wand, 
 
 As angels painted are., 
 
13 
 
 ** Give over, cruel wretch;" he cry'd, 
 
 " Nor thus thy beasts abuse; 
 Think if the ground were not too Hard, 
 
 Would tney tl>ejr work refuse ? 
 Besides, I heard thee curse and swear. 
 
 As if dumb beasts could know 
 What ail thy o rihs and curses meant,' 
 
 Or better for them go. 
 
 But tho* they koow not, there is One* 
 
 Who knov/s thy sins full well, 
 And what shall be thy after doom, 
 
 Another shall thee tell/' 
 No more he said but light as air, 
 
 He vanish'd from my sight, 
 And with him went the sun's bright beams, 
 
 And all was dark midnight.. 
 
 The thunder roar'd from under ground, 
 
 The earth it seem'd to gape ; 
 Blue flames broke forth, and in those flames 
 
 A dire gigantic shape : 
 " Soon shall I call thee mine/' itcrv'd. 
 
 With voice so dread and deep, 
 That quiy'ring like an aspin leaf, 
 
 I waken'd Irom my sleep. 
 
 And tho' 1 found it but a dream. 
 
 It left upon my mind 
 That dread of sin, that fear of God, 
 
 Which all should wish to fuid ; 
 For since that hour I've never dar'd 
 
 To use my cattle ill, 
 And ever fear'd to curse and swear, 
 
 And hope to do so still* 
 
Now ponder well y e plowboys all. 
 
 The dream that I have told ; 
 And if it works such change in you, 
 
 Tis worth lt 's weight in gold. 
 for should you think it false or tru» 
 
 it matters not one pin 
 If you but deeds of mercy shew, 
 
 And keep your souls from sin 
 
 FINIS. 
 
* Just published The Two Shoemakers. Fart the 6th * on 
 
 the duty of carrying Religion into our Amusements. Price \d. 
 
Jjj THE FOLLOWING 
 
 TRACTS 
 
 SAVE BEEN LATELY PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY 
 
 HOWARD and EVANS. 
 
 The History of Mr. Bragweil 7 Parts price 6d, 
 
 The Two Shoemakers - - - 5 ditto qd. 
 
 Price Threepence* 
 The Story of Joseph and his Brethren. 
 The Explanation of the Ten Commandments. 
 Prayers to be used by a Young Person, by a Grown Per* 
 •on, by the Mastei cr Mistress of a Sunday School, &c. 
 
 Price Twopence. 
 The History of Tom White, the Postillion. 
 The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. 
 Black Giles the Poacher, in Two Parts. 
 
 Price Three -Halfpence. 
 Watts's Hymns for Children, complete, with Praytra, 
 The History of Mary Wood. 
 
 Mr. Fantom. 
 
 The Labourers in the Vineyard. 
 The Valley of Tears, in Two Parts. 
 The Judgment Day. 
 
 Hints to all Ranks on the Scarcity of 1795, 
 
 Price One Penny. 
 The Two Soldiers. The Good Mother's Legacy; 
 
 The Thunderstorm. 
 'Tis all for the Best. 
 The Cottage Cook. 
 The Sunday School. 
 Hester Wilmot, Part I. IT. 
 The Sacrament of the Lord's 
 Sup per. 
 
 The Beggarly Boy. 
 Noah's Flood, 
 The Troubles of Life. 
 1 he Harvest Home. 
 Sorrow iu! Sato. 
 Tawney Rachel. 
 Charles Jones, the Footman, 
 
 A*new Christmas Tract. I General Resurrection and Day 
 Good Friday Tract. of Judgment. 
 
 Parley the Porter. [Onesimus 
 
 The Fali of Adam. {Patient Joe, Wild Robert, 
 The Black Prihce. Faith and Works, Gin Shop 
 
 The Cheapside Apprentice. ; Sinful Sally, Robert and Rich- 
 
 The Lancashire Collier Girl. J aid, Hampshire Tragedy, 
 
 The Life of William Baker, j Bad Bargain. 
 
 Betty Brown. : Turn the Carpet, Christmai 
 The Shopkeeper, 4 parts. Hymn, Army of Martyrs* 
 
 Howard and£v-Ai:? ; Printer*, 4-3, Lon^-lane, West smith tiftLu\