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might be delivered from sudden death, and then inquired whether she felt equal to allow me to pray with her. "Oh! yes, sir," she at once replied; "it will be a great pleasure."

I knelt down, and thanking God for all his mercies, besought him that he would wash away all her sins for his dear Son's sake, declaring that all our hope was staid on Christ. I prayed that when he saw fit, and the fruit was ripe enough to be gathered into the garner, he might be pleased to take the aged pilgrim to himself, and that he would enable her to be patient unto the end. I prayed that we might meet hereafter round the throne. She followed me word by word, joining most fervently in every expression of thankfulness both for past and present mercies; and when at the conclusion she said "Amen," my heart echoed back the word. It was the last prayer I ever offered with my old friend, but I trust that prayer was heard, and we shall again praise God together above, and join in the hallelujahs of heaven.

A little after I left her, Mrs. --- called to inquire for our aged friend, and brought a little jelly which she might take from time to time to moisten her parched mouth. She expressed far more gratitude for this little act of kindness than such a trifle deserved, and said it was the only food she liked to take. She then referred to an expression which I had used, implying, that God was gently leading her; and when Mrs. said, "Why, Molly, you have long served God, you served him when a little child. None have the same peace in age and death as those who have served their God through life."

The old and dying widow exclaimed, with an emphasis which those who heard it will never forget, "Yes, ma'am, that is the thing."

I heard afterwards from those who were with her at this time that her common expressions were, "I am going home." "Precious Saviour," "I have found my Saviour very precious to me." "God is love, is he not?" "I have had many troubles, but not one too many."

On the Thursday I went again, her sight was gone, and she could scarcely speak. I repeated Stephen's

dying prayer, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." She squeezed my hand and held it firmly. After a few minutes, I gently loosed her hand from mine, and laying it as softly as I could upon her breast, that I might not disturb the sleep, into which she had now fallen, I committed her to the keeping of our common Lord and Saviour. I never saw her again afterwards. I called at her little cottage on Friday at three o'clock, and found that she had gone to heaven about a quarter of an hour before without a struggle or a groan. She was fourscore years and eight.


WHAT was given for me? When I can comprehend infinite holiness-when I can realize all the natural shrinkings of such purity from every shade of sin-when I can understand infinite happiness relinquished for me--when I can measure the distance between divinity and humanity, and thus estimate the humiliation of "God manifest in the flesh"-when I can feel the force of infinite wrath; then, but not till then, I shall know what was "given for me."

Eternity is too limited for that lesson. As a God only could devise, a God only could execute, so a God only can comprehend it!

And this was given for thee! Oh, dull soul, dost thou realize the gift? Dost thou appropriate it? Dost thou feel that it was given for thee? That the sacrifice was as entirely for thee as if every other created intelligence had remained in sinless obedience, and thine had been the only forfeited soul? The body was broken, the blood was poured out for thee.

When was it given for thee? Was it after thine earnest entreaties, made because thou hadst contemplated the fearful * abyss on which thou wert standing; when thou hadst “beheld, and lo, there was no man!" and in the perfect impotence of nothingness, thou hadst turned to the Almighty? No! an unasked boon, it was given when you were slumbering in the womb of futurity with the things that were yet to be! like the unformed wave, moving forward slowly with the mass of waters until in its turn it raises its crested head, beats against the shore, then with a reluctant murmur mingles with its fellows. Given for thee! Wondrous gift! Oh, receive it daily, and

hourly renew thine acceptance of it! Thy sins are ever new; and though that sacrifice atones for all the past, it is still entire and perfect for the remotest sin that shall darken thy coming days! Oh, wondrous love! Surely, my soul, if thine eyes be permitted to behold that Lamb before the throne as it had been slain," when others shout "Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne and to the Lamb for ever!" thou wilt only whisper, "Given for me!”



BEWARE of it! It hardens and corrupts the heart, when of a worldly sort, unless the Author of all is gratefully acknowledged, and the obligation strongly felt to devote all to Him. Many a man has passed through the deep waters of affliction, and come forth a wiser and better man : few men ever enjoyed great worldly prosperity without becoming proud, self-sufficient, and worldly. Indeed the very man whose graces have shone like gold when stript of all earthly goods, has found those graces dimmed by the flood-tide of fortune.

The cry of "hard times," which was wont to salute our ears on every side, is hardly heard in all our borders. The agricultural, commercial, mechanical, and manufacturing interests of the country were, as a whole, never more prosperous. The busy world was never busier. Thank God for it all,-but beware! A pond without an outlet will soon stagnate and spread disease and death. If real or supposed wealth is suffered to accumulate unduly in Christian hands, and the heart is allowed to rest on uncertain riches, it will be the occasion of ruin. Or if it is squandered on unworthy objects, God will bring his stewards to a terrible account. If we would not provoke a speedy succession of judgments to follow these mercies of a bountiful Providence, there must be a prompt and cheerful distribution of a liberal portion of our possessions in works of charity. Now is the time to urge forward the various schemes for evangelizing our country and the world. Let them all be abundantly sustained. And above all, let those who have an interest at the the throne of grace plead for a baptism of the Holy Spirit from on high, that while temporal blessings abound, spiritual mercies may more richly abound in all our borders, and that our very prosperity be not the occasion of bitter sorrow.


A Hymn for the Evangelical Alliauce.


One in Christ his people are,
All indissolubly one;
Each, in his right hand a star,
Bright with glories not his own:
Each, withdrawn from nature's mine
An inestimable gem,
Destined evermore to shine

In Emmanuel's diadem.

Mingled hues one bow compose

God's own sign to mortal's given ;— One vast ocean ebbs and flows,

Though in countless billow's driven : So, one church the ransomed prove, Though from varied realms they come, One community of love

Bound for one eternal home.

Then while pilgrims here below
Why should they divided be?
Why should sharp contentions grow
To disturb their unity?

Why apart should they remain

Each within his sect confined? Nor their Master's law maintain Nor display his heavenly mind?

Was not this his fervent prayer,
"Father, let my people be
One in us, as one we are,

Thou in Me, and I in thee.
Then shall all the world believe
My commission is divine;
All my Gospel shall receive,
All within my fold recline!"

Happy period! joyful day!

When shall thy bright morning rise?
Lo! before thy kindling ray,
Every fiend of discord flies:

Rise, thou Sun of Righteousness!

Wide thy healing wings outspread ;

With thy light the nations bless,

O'er thy Church thine influence shed.

Hallowed influence from above,
Source of concord and of peace:
In Thy bond of perfect love
Let our sad divisions cease:
Heart to heart and hand to hand,
Each shall then his brother own-
An indissoluble band,

Christians, be for ever one!

Edge-hill, January 1, 1846.


THERE is no rest below

'Tis not the fruit of earth:

The God of truth has told us so-
Rest is of heavenly birth.

Our bodies subject are

To sore disease and pain;

And who, to ease with such a bar,

Can "quietly" sustain.

Our minds, perpetually,

Are wand'ring here and there ;
Flitting through air-o'er earth, o'er sea-
Where, then, is rest? O! where?
Or let our minds be "stayed;"

How quickly wave on wave,
Bereavements, crosses, hopes delayed,
Are of our rest the grave.
Our hearts! let them to-day
Have what they most desire;
To-morrow, faithlessly they say,
We something else require.

All things around us, too,

All fluctuating are;

The shade, the light, the landscape's view

At hand, or seen afar.

Heaven only is the place

Where perfect rest is found;

For there the Lord reveals his face,

Diffusing peace around.

Prepare me, O my God,

By thine own Spirit's grace,

And by thy Son's redeeming blood,

For this sweet resting-place.

That there, through endless years,


may that love adore,

Which wiped away earth's restless tears,
And bade me sigh no more.

T. R.

L. P.

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