About a hundred years or so, Wesley and others said they’d go: A carriage mercy did provide, That Wesley and his friends might ride. ’Tis nine and thirty years, they say, Whoever lives to see next May, Another coach was added then, Unto this all important train. Linked to each other, on we pass, Supported by the Saviour’s grace; When to the better land we come, We’ll mix together round the throne. Jesus is the first engineer, He does the gospel engine steer; The preachers of the sacred Word, Co-workers with their dying Lord. We’ve guards who ride, while others stand Close by the way with flag in hand,-- The flag of white, of red, and green, At different places may be seen. When we behold the flag that’s white, It cheers the heart, for all is right; But when the green we do behold, Caution, it says, and be not bold. Red tells us there is danger near, Be not high-minded, rather fear; Place all your trust in God alone, And in the blood which does atone. Then let not poor nor rich despair, He still delights to answer prayer; Remember he will not despise, Your humble wailings--mournful cries. Afflictions are the tunnels drear, Through which we go while travelling here; But these will all be shortly past, And heaven appear in view at last. To cheer the dark and gloomy night, We’ve lamps which give a brilliant light, And while we urge our course along, The cross of Christ is all our song. We’ve several laws about this road, Wrote by the finger of our God; Ye trespassers must all beware, For He the guilty will not spare. No one from his place must alight, Until he hears the words, all right; And when this glorious signal’s given, You’ll hear a whisper, ‘This is Heaven;’ The stations are the means of grace, The house of God, the holy place; No matter where that place may be, A field, a barn, or hollow tree. You say you will not ride with me, Well, be it so, we still agree; The church of England is before The Quakers, yea, and several more. Baptists, and Independents too, The Methodists, both old and new; I can, I will, I do rejoice, That you have such a happy choice. CHORUS. “My son,” says God, “give me thy heart, Make haste, or else the train will start.” LONDON:- H. Such, Printer and Publisher, 177, Union Street, Boro’.--S.E. RAILROAD TO HELL, _FROM DISSIPATION TO POVERTY_, AND FROM POVERTY TO DESPERATION. This Line begins in the Brewery, and runs through all Public-houses, Dram-shops, and Jerry-shops, in a zigzag direction, until it lands in the Kingdom of Hell.