derived perfections, has stamped on all his acts and deeds, immortality, perfection, and glory; and thus his glory is great in our salvation, and we, his members, are partners in his glory. And, ere long, it will burst open in eternal sunshine, in unclouded day, face to face with him; the fulness of these incomprehensibles, and the whole unfolded thy God thy glory, and that we should be to the praise of his glory who first trusted in Christ. Ah! beloved, language fails, my heart is warm, and I am as happy as I desire to be; inasmuch as the Lord in his sovereign mercy, and according to his good pleasure, hath made me a living witness of these dear truths I have written unto you. May the Lord our God give us an increasing familiarity with these things, and a growing acquaintance with himself; that grace and peace may be multiplied unto us through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. I send this to you in love, on the ground of dear relation to our most glorious Christ in blood and love, whose we are, and whom we serve; and, bless his holy name, a few days more of tribulation, and we shall see him face to face without a veil between; then shall we be like him, for we shall see him as he is. Yours in our precious Lord Jesus, 82, Upper Stamford Street, Waterloo Road, London, August 12, 1841. To the Editor of the Gospel Magazine. MY DEAR BROTHER IN THE FAITH OF CHRIST, A. TRIGGS. The following is the first of a series of letters from the correspondence of the late Henry Harris, of East Smithfield, commencing in the seventeenth year of his age; and judging by the effect produced on my own mind in those I have been privileged to peruse, I doubt not they will be acceptable to the readers of the GOSPEL MAGAZINE. Wishing you every blessing in the power of truth, and increased circulation of your work, Horselydown. MY DEAR JOHN, I remain D. DENHAM. Solemnly impressed with the awful situation in which you stand, I do not seek an apology for that which I consider my duty. In all human probability and expectation you are fast hastening to that long home from whence no traveller returns. Previous to writing to you, my mind was seriously impressed with considerations of eternity to be for ever with the Lord, or to be for ever banished from his presence into the company of damned spirits. If at the day of judgment we should be commanded to depart into hell with a curse which will sound in our ears through a long eternity, we shall then think of pious friends, who shall say "Amen!" to the awful sentence. Nothing will hide a poor sinner in that day but the righteousness of Christ, in which if we are clothed we shall stand justified in the sight of God. The most healthy among us must say, In the midst of life, we are in death; but in the state in which you are, which is more precarious than you by any means imagine, you must see the necessity of a serious self-examination. How do matters stand between God and you? Have you been brought to cry for pardon at the foot of the cross? Have you any well-grounded hope of an interest in Christ? If you have, happy are you; but, my dear John, I fear you are totally ignorant of the way of salvation experimentally what a state to be in, without God and without hope! Oh that God the Holy Spirit would show you your own insufficiency, and lead you to Christ, who is exalted as a Prince and a Saviour to give repentance and remission of sins; if you have other hope, it is a refuge of lies which will fail you in the solemn hour of death; when your soul shall appear before the judgment seat, and this letter-even this letter-sent you by an affectionate brother, shall be brought as evidence against you. But I would point you to Jesus, to him who bled on Calvary. The throne of grace is open to the any poor and wretched; the dying thief found mercy at the eleventh hour, why then should any despair? Are there not many precious promises for your encouragement? Search the Scriptures-look for yourself-read as for eternity, as a dying man. May you be led to Jesus as your only hope of salvation, even the salvation of your precious soul, the value of which is greater than the whole of God's creation; for it shall live when all else is destroyed. But had I the pen of an angel I could not sufficiently set forth the value of the soul, the awful realities of the unexpiring second death, and above all the willingness of Jesus to receive the vilest of sinners who come unto him for pardon. But I solemnly declare could I by death redeem your soul from destruction, Iwould willingly make the sacrifice. That you may experience the blessed effects arising from the application of his precious blood to your conscience, is the prayer of your affectionate brother, 66 SIR, HENRY ALFRED HARRIS. To the Editor of the Gospel Magazine. In justice to "D. F.," and for the satisfaction of your correspondent "S. S.," who has noticed an expression in the excellent remarks on "Gospel Obedience" contained in your June Number, I beg to say, that the word gaudily," objected to by "S. S.," did not stand in the original, but was inserted by the individual who copied the piece for the press. In the original the sentence read thus-" A head crowned with flowers is an ill omen that your heart is right with Christ." "D. F.," so far from attempting to screen those who indulge in the more tasteful and elegant excesses of the present day, would warmly reprehend them, and most heartily concur with the lamentation of "S. S." on this subject. X. OBITUARY. To the Editor of the Gospel Magazine. SIR,-Reading in the GOSPEL MAGAZINE for June of your great bereavementwife and children-likewise a farther account of "J. F.," who has lost a dearly-beloved wife, leaving him with six small children; you were laid upon my mind to entreat for strength on your behalf under this great trial; for it is a trial for poor nature, unless it is the will of God to bear us up above it with his love, which can overcome every trial. I have myself been very much exercised in my mind, having lately lost my only child-a son; a dear child, who tenderly loved me. Although he was in a declining state of health for many months, and the doctors declared him consumptive; yet I thought he would get better, until the last week of his illness. He was sensible of my love for him, and therefore tender of saying much concerning his death. Yet at times he would speak of it; and, though his father and myself were careful not to put words into his mouth, we anxiously observed his conversation and conduct. He was very particular in speaking the truth, and in discerning the truth both in reading and hearing. When he was not more than nine years of age, he would take Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress to bed with him to read in the morning; and often afterwards make remarks upon what he had been reading. Last August we were recommended to take him to the sea-side. We went to Deal. He generally accompanied me to chapel whilst there; but on one occasion, the afternoon being sultry, I urged him to remain at home: he did so, but meeting me at the door of the chapel at the close of the service, he said, as we returned home," Mother, though I did not go with you, I hope it has not been all lost time; for after I lay down, something like a voice said to me, 'You must get up and pray.' I did pray that if I died, God would give you a manifestation that I shall go to glory; and," he added, "these words afterwards came to me, 'You must watch unto prayer.' The person (a God-fearing woman) in whose house we had apartments, informed me that after I was gone to chapel, she listened and could hear him praying; and, when he came down-stairs, he said to her, "I shall not die at Deal." When we returned to Bromley, in the month of September, I thought him better. and encouraged the hope that, as soon as the severe weather was over, he would recover; instead of which he became weaker, and gradually declined; his mind was serene and quiet; he never murmured; when in pain he begged his father to pray to God to relieve his sufferings. About a fortnight before his death, " Mother," he said, "father told me to pray, but I felt no access; now," he added, "I can pray-I can get near the Lord." At another time, he said, "I thought I had been praying to my Heavenly Father, but," he added, "a hypocrite may go a great way, but never prays." I answered, "My dear, can you say feelingly, God, be merciful to me, a sinner?'" He replied, “Yes." A few days before his death, he said to me, with much composure, "Mother, I am your child-your son; may the Lord support you. You believe I shall go to glory; then why do you grieve? You will not be long." It appeared that his mind had been comforted from some conversation which he had heard a few nights before, in which I had said that, for many remarkable reasons, I had had a hope of him from his birth. At another time, waking from a short slumber during the afternoon, he said, "In something like a vision, a voice said to me, 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" " Well," I said, "I hope you can say he doth." "Yes, mother," he replied, "I can: it is a very wicked world; it is better to die than to live." On another occasion, a few days before his death, his father having accompanied some friends which were in the house, to chapel, he said, Now, mother, we shall be quiet, to read and pray," which I did; and my mind was directed to entreat the Lord to enable me to offer up my dearly-beloved son as Abraham did his son Isaac, to which he with great emphasis said, "Amen, amen." Having then left him to his own reflections a little, and to enable him to obtain sleep, which, with his hands closed in the attitude of prayer, he frequently did; rousing, he said, "Mother, this came to me; Mr. Turner said to father, 'Go home-your son is made whole, spiritually, from this hour." Four or five nights before his decease, he said, much distressed, "Oh, how I cleave to the things of time and sense." At another time he told his father he believed the Lord afflicted him for his sins, which, poor child! as to the commission of outward sin, he had been mercifully preserved from. He was endowed, naturally, with great meekness of spirit. Many times have we heard him in prayer when alone, entreating God to pardon him, and, if his life should be spared, to keep him from sinning. About two hours before his departure, he again said, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" The last connected words which he uttered were these: 66 "Who is a pardoning God like thee, As we did not recollect the hymn, his father asked him where it was. 'Great God of wonders, all thy ways.' He distinctly I will find it you in the morning, if I should live so long;" but he did not survive more than an hour after that. Apparently without any pain, he called me, and, kissing me, said, "Mother, I am going to sleep." He did sweetly sleep in Jesus. Thus did the Lord kindly answer my petition, that, if it were his will, he would take him in his sleep, and spare me the pain of seeing him suffer in his last moments. I should have mentioned before, that at one time he was very low; he said, he had been trying to pray to his heavenly Father, if he might so call him. It was some time before he was persuaded of his interest. He said to me one morning, after his father had engaged in prayer, "Oh, mother, what access my father had in prayer! so have I. What nearness to the Lord I had!" He died on the 7th of April, in the 15th year of his age. Since his departure the enemy has been so permitted to distress my poor weak mind, that I am glad to hear or read anything to calm my feelings; seeing how much greater trials many are called into, of this I am confident, that when the Lord intends to try his people, he means them to be trials, though the same circumstance might not to another be any trial. I know in my judgment that the Lord has in mercy taken my dear son from a world of sin, sorrow, pain, and all affliction, and he now realizes what he himself foretold; "I shall be better clothed, mother," said he, "than you can clothe me." I desire not to murmur or repine. I am confident, when it shall please God, he can overcome it with his love shed abroad in my heart. That I long for, and to say,— "The dearest idol I have known, Whate'er that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worship only thee. So shall my walk be close with God, Not as I am now, rebelling against the Lord, and, as the poet says, "dwelling too much upon his image." I do feel for you, as it is only the Lord can raise up out of dejection. I hope he will. I see and believe that it is a great mercy for any of our dear friends and relations to be safely landed in glory, and I know it is selfishness in me to be so cast down because I want his company; he is better off, and but a little and I shall go to him; and part we must in this world. Oh may the Lord support and comfort us, and cause us to see all is right, and give strength to do his will the remainder of the time we have to stay here below; for these are solemn, serious times. Surely the poor church of Christ is in the Laodicean state, neither cold nor hot. What lukewarmness do I feel; I can say I know I need trials to make me acknowledge my nakedness, "As many as I love I rebuke and chasten." Oh that it may bring me to lay low at the feet of a crucified Redeemer, and ashamed of myself that for a moment I should repine at the Lord who shed his precious blood for his church. May the Lord look down and pardon me, and not suffer Satan so to distress me with his ifs and buts, as though I had been the death of my dear child. It will sometimes dart into my mind in such a way, that I must from his birth to his death try to remember all my actions towards him; bless God, the enemy at times does not gain any ground by it, but I find it a great trial when I am at chapel to attend to so many things-my mind is so assaulted. Again, at times I see the goodness of God, and am thankful to think he is safe landed, seeing the times, how youth is de praved, and what they are exposed to. May the Lord raise our affections to a soulravishing view, that you may see your dear partner and children, and I my dear son, round the throne, praising and blessing our dear Redeemer. My dearly beloved son dreamed before we perceived he was seriously ill, that he fought with death and conquered. He did not tell me of it for some time after; a few days before his death he named to a near relation, he should not conquer it in life, but in death; "but I do not say much to my father and mother," said he, fearing he should distress us. Hoping and praying the Lord may support you, I subscribe myself A LOVER OF GOD'S POOR TRIED FAMILY. [Whatever the adversary may suggest to thee, poor soul-however he may vex and annoy thee with distressing thoughts that thou hast been neglectful, or not sufficiently alive to thy son's condition, as being about to be taken from thee; it is quite evident to us that thou didst act the mother's part-that all that could be done by human arm thou didst. When the Lord is about to take away those that are so very near and dear to us, and in whom our very life appears to centre, he does not tell us of it suddenly, or all at once; but by little and little he breaks to us the painful intelligence. He knows it would be too much for a poor sensitive heart to sustain, and therefore he gently cautions us in proportion to the strength with which he indulges us to bear up under it. There is much mercy in this. But now he has seen fit to take thy son, thine only son, to himself, may he enable thee in contemplation to follow him, and may he moreover indulge thee with a sweet looking out of, away from, and above thy sorrows, up unto Jesus, who alone can sustain and comfort thee. Thy trial, painful as it is, might have been worse; it might have been thy husband-this would have been a much keener stroke. Thy child might have died without leaving the sweet testimony which he has left, and thy soul might have now been racked with anguish on account thereof. Oh, beloved, however trying our path may appear, it seems to us that we have not to look far for cases much more afflictive; so that we are brought by the contrast to say, "In the midst of deserved judgment thou hast remembered mercy." Blessed be his name, these trials will one day terminate, they will not last for ever; we shall reach the borders of the wilderness ere long, and then shall only have to cross the river to enter upon the promised land. These afflictive dispensations only tend to sharpen the appetite, and make us long with more intensity for the dawning of that celestial day! Thine in the Lord, though unknown in the flesh-ED.] 296 ANECDOTE. THE GROCER'S BILL. THROUGH the kindness of a correspondent we were enabled, some time since, to relate an anecdote about a BAKER'S BILL.* We have now one to tell of a GROCER'S BILL, which we heard from the lips of the gentleman himself. He was a man of high descent, intimately connected with a Roman Catholic family, and educated for a priest, until God, in rich mercy, met with him, showed him his delusion, brought him to his feet as a poor guilty sinner, proclaimed pardoning love through a precious Saviour, and then led him forth to testify of that grace to his fellow-men. Two or three years ago, in the providence of God, he was removed by the instrumentality of a friend to labour at one of our watering-places. There, as if the Lord would cut him off from all human dependencies, his friend failed in the fulfilment of his promised assistance, and our brother was cast more entirely upon the good providence of God. + He had been in the habit of receiving assistance, at stated periods, from some one or more friends, and his grocer's bill had been regularly settled, from quarter to quarter, by the supplies thus afforded. The quarter was turned; the grocer's bill was expected; and the accustomed contributions not having arrived, our brother's heart began to sink-his fears prevailed-and unbelief with all its keen Goddishonouring insinuations, took the place of that sweet simple dependence which "Laughs at impossibilities, And cries, It shall be done." He awoke early one morning, ere yet the day had scarcely broke, with a heart as hard as a flint; the devil, watching for his waking-if he did not actually arouse him -set in like a flood with a host of infidel suggestions. The power of God not seeming present to resist him, a partial entertainment was afforded to the tempter; our distressed brother leapt out of bed, and partly dressing himself, was resolved at once to go and walk over the neighbouring cliff! A second thought occurred, "I'll seek a little more rest." He got into bed, and, falling asleep, in the course of an hour or two again awoke greatly refreshed, and with his mind comforted and his heart humbled and enlarged at the recollection of the Lord's preventing goodness. Having waited upon his wife (who was an invalid at the time) with her breakfast, and so sweetly feasted upon the grace and faithfulness of his Lord as not to stand in need of this meaner aid himself, he again retired down-stairs. There upon the table was the dreaded GROCER'S BILL! Ten pounds and twopence farthing was the amount, and not a fraction had arrived towards meeting it. His heart sunk like lead; his happy frame was gone; and, in agony of spirit, he again sought his chamber. There lay his sick wife, who, seeing his distress, said, "My dear, don't be discouraged; He that has delivered will deliver. I am sure he will make a way for us." Feeling more like a devil than a saint, the good man told us his heart replied, though his lips were mercifully prevented from giving utterance to the awful rebellion and infidelity of his heart, "IT'S A LIE!" Perceiving the happy state of his wife's mind, and not wishing to deprive her of it, he again went below stairs, and, taking his pipe, had just seated himself before the fire to light it, when a knock was heard at the door. 'Mary," said he, to a little servant girl, "there's the postman." "No, sir," she replied, "it cannot be, for it's an hour beyond his time." "Oh yes, so it is," was his answer, at the same time inwardly reproaching himself for his readiness to catch at every apparent opening. It was the postman, however, reader, though it was an hour past his time, and he was the bearer of a letter from some unknown and of course unexpected source containing a ten-pound note! Shall we attempt to describe the poor man's feelings by any remarks of our own? We will not do so; but rather leave it to the conception of those who have not wanted instances in their own experience to prove that the God of Elijah still lives! Blessed be his name! * See Nos. 10 and 11. † The product of his church was about 15s. per quarter! We do not repeat this expression to cherish the infidelity of the heart, but on the one hand to convince poor devil-hunted souls that they do not stand alone, and on the other to show forth the sovereign grace and free love and mercy of that Lord who has said, that our unbelief shall not make his truth of non-effect. City Press, Long Lane: D. A. Doudney. |