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Lord beautifully illustrates this by a well-known instance in the natural world: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." John, xii. 24. As many seeds of corn spring from one seed, when it is sown in the ground, and as that which is sown must first die before it can bring forth fruit; so a nu̟merous race of true believers, in successive ages of the world, were to be the fruits of Christ's bitter sufferings and death upon the cross; "A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a generation." Psalm xxii, 30. The promise was fulfilled, when on the day of Pentecost about three thousand souls were added to the church, and when the number continued to increase, and we trust shall increase more and more. Every soul that is truly converted to God, is one of Christ's spiritual seed; one of "the children which God hath given him." Heb. ii. 13. One of those "who are born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." John, i. 13. Christ's people, his spiritual seed, are regenerate; "being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God which liveth and abideth for ever." 1 Pet. i. 23. They are the fruits of Christ's sufferings, the recompence of his pains." He shall see his seed;" and how glorious will the sight be, when all his spiritual seed are gathered together," a great multitude which no man can number."

"He shall prolong his days." When the enemies of Christ put him to death, they thought that they had cut short his days for ever, and the language of their hearts was, "When shall he die, and his name perish?" Psalm xli. 5. But the attempt was vain: soon he rose again, his days were prolonged, and now he ever liveth, to

the confusion of his enemies, and the comfort of his believing people. "Christ being raised from the dead, dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him. For in that he died, he died unto sin once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God." Rom. vi. 9, 10, "I am he (says the glorified Saviour) that liveth and was dead; and behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death." Rev. i. 18. It was foretold, that the King Messiah should have his days prolonged to all eternity; "He asked life of thee, and thou gavest it him, even length of days for ever and ever." Psalm xxi. 4. "His name shall endure for ever: his name shall be continued as long as the sun; and men shall be blessed in him: all nations shall call him blessed." Psalm lxxii. 17. He was to have "dominion, and glory, and a kingdom that all people, nations, and languages should serve him his dominion is an everlasting dominion which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed." Dan. vii. 14. He is to "reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end." Luke, i. 33.

Lastly, "The pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand." The pleasure of the Lord is explained by St. Paul to be, the election and adoption of his spiritual family in Christ; having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will." Eph. i. 5. Corresponding with this, our Lord said, “ I came down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of Him that sent me; and this is the Father's will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me, I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day; and this is the will of Him that sent me, that every one that seeth

the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life; and I will raise him up at the last day." John, vi. 38-40. Here we are taught, that the conversion and salvation of souls shall prosper in the Saviour's hand his word shall not be published in vain; the Lord has engaged to bless it, and he will fulfil his promise, and send down his Spirit to make it effectual. All success must come from him; and indeed it is an unspeakable blessing, that to give success is in the Lord's hands, and not in ours. Our feeble efforts can no more cause a spiritual seed to arise to the glory of God, than they can produce a single grain of wheat from that which is sown in the earth: without him, we can do nothing.

This consideration should teach those who are sowing the good seed of God's word, as well as those who hear it, to be earnest in prayer for his Holy Spirit to make that word effectual. It is a painful sight when but little effect seems to follow the ministration of the word of God; when it does not appear to take root in the heart, and so brings forth no fruit to perfection. Where this is the case, such persons cannot with any shadow of truth suppose that they are the

children of God, that Christ will look upon them as his spiritual seed, or that he will own them for his people in the great day of his appearing and glory. Nor is this all; they cannot, without a change of heart and life, escape that awful punishment which will fall upon his enemies: for if it pleased the Lord to bruise his well-beloved Son when he stood in the place of sinners, how fearfully will he bruise unconverted sinners, when they appear before him with their sins upon their own heads! Even Christ himself" shall break them with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel." Psalm ii. 9. Let every convinced sinner, therefore, make haste to flee from the wrath to come; and let those in whose hearts the good seed of eternal life has been sown, look up to the Lord to cause it to increase. Let them remember, that it is his hand that must give it success; and let them seek the desired blessing in the use of all the appointed means of grace; praying, that the pleasure of the Lord in the salvation of their own souls, and in bringing many others to the saving knowledge of Christ crucified, may prosper more and more in his almighty hand.

MY BROTHER'S GRAVE.-AGED 15. BENEATH the chancel's hallow'd stone, Expos'd to ev'ry rustic tread,

To few, save rustic mourners, known,
My brother, is thy lowly bed.

Few words upon the rough stone graven,
Thy name, thy birth, thy youth declare,
Thy innocence, thy hopes of heaven,

In simplest phrase recorded there;
No 'scutcheons shine, no banners wave
In mockery o'er my brother's grave.

The place is silent;-rarely sound
Is heard those ancient walks around
No sound of human toil or strife
To Death's lone dwelling speaks of life;
Nor breaks the silence still and deep,

Where thou, beneath thy burial stone,

LITOREUS.

Art laid, in that unstartled sleep

The living eye hath never known!
The lonely Sexton's footstep falls
In dismal echoes on the walls,
As slowly pacing through the aisle
He sweeps the unholy dust away,
And cobwebs, which must not defile
Those windows on a sabbath day;
And passing through the central nave,
Treads lightly on my brother's grave.

But, when the sweet-ton'd sabbath chime,
Pouring its music on the breeze,
Proclaims the well-known holy time

Of prayer, and thanks, and bended knees; When rustic crowds devoutly meet,

And lips and hearts to God are given,
And souls enjoy oblivion sweet

Of earthly ills in thoughts of heaven;
What voice of calm and solemn tone
Is heard above thy burial stone?
What form in priestly meek array
Beside the altar kneels to pray?
What holy hands are lifted up
To bless the sacramental cup?
Full well I know that reverend form:

And, if a voice could reach the dead,
Those tones would reach thee;-but the worm,

My brother, makes thy heart his bed;— That Sire who thy existence gave,

Now stands beside thy lowly grave.

It is not long since thou wert wont
Within these sacred walls to kneel;

This altar, that baptismal font,

These stones which now thy dust conceal,
The sweet tones of the sabbath bell,
Were holiest objects to thy soul;
On these thy spirit lov'd to dwell,
Untainted by the world's control.
My brother, those were happy days
When thou and I were children yet;
How fondly memory still surveys

Those scenes the heart can ne'er forget.
How blithly then we hail'd the ray
Which usher'd in the sabbath-day;
How lightly then our footsteps trod
Yon pathway to the house of GOD.

I feel not now as then I felt,

The sunshine of my heart is o'er;
The spirit now is chang'd, which dwelt
Within me in the days before.

But thou wert snatch'd, my brother, hence
In all thy guileless innocence;

One sabbath saw thee bend the knee

In reverential piety,

For childish faults forgiveness crave;
The next beam'd brightly on thy grave.
The crowd, of which thou late wert one,
Now throng'd across thy burial stone;
Rude footsteps trampled on the spot
Where thou liest mould'ring and forgot;

While some few gentler bosoms wept
In silence, where my brother slept.

I stood not by thy feverish bed,
I look'd not on thy glazing eye,
Nor gently lull'd thy aching head,
Nor view'd thy dying agony;
I felt not what my parents felt,

The doubt, the terror, the distress,
Nor vainly for my brother knelt;

My heart was spar'd that wretchedness. One sentence told me in a breath

My brother's illness and his death!

The days of mourning glided by,
And brought me back my gaiety;
For soon to childhood's wayward heart
Does crush'd affection cease to smart;
Again I join'd the playful crowd
Of boyish playmates, wild and loud;
I learnt to view with careless eye
My sable garb of misery;

No more I wept my brother's lot,
His image was almost forgot,
And ev'ry deeper shade of pain
Had vanish'd from my soul again.

The well-known morn I used to greet

With boyhood's joy, at length was beaming,
And thoughts of home, and raptures sweet,
In ev'ry eye, but mine, were gleaming.
But I, amidst that youthful band

Of beating hearts and beaming eyes,
Nor smil'd, nor spoke, at joy's command,
Nor felt those wonted ecstacies.

I lov'd my home, but trembled now
To view my father's alter'd brow;
I fear'd to meet my mother's eye,
And hear her voice of agony;
I fear'd to view my native spot,
Where he who lov'd it, now was not!
The pleasures of my home were fled,
My brother slumber'd with the dead!

Pensive I reach'd my father's gate,
No smiling faces met me now;
I enter'd,-all was desolate,—
Grief sat upon my mother's brow;
I heard her, as she kiss'd me, sigh;
A tear was in my father's eye;
My little brothers round me press'd,
In gay unthinking childhood blest :-
Long, long, that hour is past; but when
Shall I forget the mournful scene!

The sabbath came; with mournful pace
I sought my brother's burial place.
I gaz'd around with fearful eye,
All things repos'd in sanctity;
One hurried glance I downward gave,-
My foot was on my brother's grave!

J. MOULTRIE.

DEAR SIR,

ON FREQUENTING FAIRS.

THE religious public of the metropolis are very much obliged to your correspondent Anti-Bartholomæus, for the caution about that pestilential evil Bartholomew fair. Though my residence is not in the capital, yet business has many times in my life called me into the immediate vicinity of Smithfield during the fair time, which renders me in some measure acquainted with it. All classes of society who are visitors of that riotous assembly must, if their presence is a matter of choice, expose themselves to danger. But there are, doubtless, some people who are liable to receive more injury there than others. Your correspondent has noticed a female servant, who lost her place in consequence of spending a night there; and also, that it is an evident means of increasing the already too lamentable multitude of prostitutes. It appears, then, that this fair is peculiarly injurious to female virtue. It is of but little use to open asylums for the recovery of these unhappy creatures to the path of virtue, while so little is done to prevent the first steps to vice. One unavoidable consequence of frequenting these assemblies is, the loss of precious time. It is a divine command to redeem the time, and especially because the days are evil. This injunction extends to the young as well as to the aged. Female servants have generally plenty of work to occupy most of their time; and it is a great -pity that they should inconsiderately devote any of their leisure hours to vanity and folly, and, instead of employing their precious moments in the study of God's word and useful improvement, waste it away in a manner completely unprofitable. It is frequently a loss of time to their employers as well as themselves, and therefore a theft; because when they go without leave,

or stop longer than they are allowed, they squander away time which is not their own. Again, by frequenting pleasure fairs, money is generally uselessly and foolishly expended. Many sights are to be seen; shows, low theatrical exhibitions are displayed; all manner of vain and foolish ways are contrived to empty the pockets of the unthinking and inexperienced; and by this means many shillings are expended which might be well employed. If these servants or young persons belong to pious families, they will know that money is a talent which ought to be better employed, than to support a parcel of vain and wicked people, who live upon the weakness and credulity of others, instead of labouring in some honest business and vocation. And sometimes even females go into houses where intoxicating liquors are sold, and spend money there. A moment's reflection will show how improper must be such conduct. Frequenting these places is productive of loss of character, even when nothing criminal, in the full sense of the term, is committed; yet, if a young female visits such places as Bartholomew or Greenwich fair, her friends can hardly think so well of her for the time to come. Her employers will be led to fear she has formed improper connexions, and will for the future not be able to repose much confidence in her; and will hardly be able to give her a strong and unhesitating recommendation.

Loss of character is not the worst effect produced by frequenting pleasure fairs; but the loss of female virtue is many times to be dated at such places. Importunity and opportunity here so unite, one folly and vanity after another so drive out every thought of a sedate and wary character, till the unhappy, deluded votary becomes robbed and spoiled of what ought to

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