The substance of a long SERMON, preached in a small house, by a diminutive "holder forth"— turned into Sapphic

Death and damnation to the sons of Satan, Cry all the scriptures, so too does reason. Ah Satan's children, hear, hear my preaching, Make due improvement.

Lo as the frog leaps into the cool pool, So leaps the sinner into the gulph, which Ever stands ready, with her mouth open Quick to receive him.

Did you ne'er see a dark dismal cavern, So very deep that you could not behold it? Now that is nothing, when but compared with Hell's mighty gullet.

Ah sinners, vast sinners, sinners in this room, Born like dead carrion, all rotten with sin, which Know is exceedingly sinful; all subjects Fit for damnation.

Wait for the spirit, for as you now are, You can no more your own wicked selves stir, Than a dead log can stand up on end, and Just like a man walk.

But if you do not wake and bestir you, Know, that in snow banks of still ceasing sulphur. Ever, forever, you must be rolling, Till time no more is.

Death and damnation, Hell, flames and brimstone, Fire, wrath eternal, lightning and thunder, There round one's ears fly, and soon will make you All black as Indians.

Born with the itch of Adam's first sin, and Ne'er to be cured till Christ's mighty ointment, When you are dipt in regeneration, Cleanses the scabs off.