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crowneth thee with glory, even while he seems to crown thee with thorns. And will not thou triumph at this, O Christian! especially considering the end of thy patience, which is "hope, peace, and eternal life." (Rom. v. 3—5.)

A Christian doth but carry his own wealth, his crown and sceptre, which, though here they be burdensome, shall hereafter be eternally glorious. Patience works a man to a great indifferency to worldly enjoyments: if God be pleased to spare them, he accepts them with thankfulness; or, if he see good to deprive him of them, he quarrels not at his Father's providence; for still God leaves him more than he takes, so long as he leaves him himself.

Patience hath its perfect work, when a man bears whatsoever is necessary for him. Our afflictions are but medicines for our souls: it may be a small quantity, or a few doses, is not sufficient to work out the malignity of our distemper; and, therefore, we must continue and submit, until our great Physician hath perfected his care upon us; and then is our patience perfect. Possibly God sees thee proud in thy prosperity; and, therefore, he brings some sharp affliction upon thee, that may lance the swelling tumour of thy mind, and let out thy corruption. Perhaps he sees thy disease is covetousness, and therefore takes from thee that, which, though it please thy appetite, yet miserably increaseth thy distemper. Perhaps he sees thee falling asleep in carnal security; and, therefore, to awaken thee out of this lethargy, makes use of these incisions. Now, both the cure and thy patience are then perfect, when, of a proud person, he hath made thee humble; when of a worldly and self-seeking person, he hath made thee a public-spirited and selfdenying Christian; when of a drowsy and secure, he hath made thee a vigilant, zealous, and active Christian.-Bp. Hopkins.


I do not see how they who deny a particular providence can acknowledge a general one; for what is the order of things in the world, but a huge stream proceeding from a little source, and continually augmented in its course by the accession of little streams, and the bubbling up of little springs beneath? But this I am sure of, that he who takes away a particular providence, who does not pay a great attention to it, takes away a large portion of the happiness of a Christian life-the delightful confidence experienced in

committing our ways to God-and the delightful thankfulness of acknowledging God's goodness in-the direction of them. And obscure as many providences are to us, I am persuaded, if every one would look out for the hand of God in the management of every day's wants, he might see it much oftener than we are aware of. And what we know not now, we shall know hereafter—perhaps in this world. The road may turn and wind, so that we may hardly know in what direction we are going; but when we can look back on the whole journey, as on a map, we shall see the direction clearly, and the reason of making an elbow and doubling in the way. But how shall we know in another world? Even as we are known. And what shall be the acknowledgment in such a retrospect, but that beautiful one: "And ye know in all your hearts and in all your souls, that not one thing hath failed of all the good things which the Lord your God spake concerning you; all are come to pass, and not one thing hath failed thereof." (Joshua xxiii. 14.)


Although the Sun of Righteousness be risen, and darts down his beams to this lower world continually, yet they who have not faith can neither see him, nor enjoy any more benefit by him, than as if he was not risen, or did not shine at all. As, if a man be born blind, though the sun shine never so clear about him, he sees no more than he did before, but lies in the dark at noon-day as much as at midnight, neither can you ever make him understand what light or colours are; for, having not that sense by which alone such things can be perceived, he can never understand what you mean by such things, so as to form any true notion of them in his mind; so it is in our present case. Though the Sun of Righteousness be risen, and shines most gloriously in the world, yet, being the object only of our faith, without that a man can discern nothing of him. He may, perhaps, talk of light, but all the while he knows not what he means by the words he useth about it; for he useth them only as words in course, taken up from those he talks with, without having any effect or operation at all upon his mind; whereas, they who really believe God's word, and what is there revealed concerning the Sun of Righteousness, see his light, feel his heat, experience the power and efficacy of his influences.


We have, for the last few days, been attending a poor policeman, who is dying from typhus fever; and the Lord has again been pleased to hear our prayer, and to give us good hope that this poor man has died safe in Christ. He prayed continually, and fervently; and when all power of speech failed, he was considered by many by-standers as delirious. When asked if his hope was in Jesus Christ his Lord and Saviour, his eyes opened, a sweet smile illumined the countenance of the dying man, and, though with great difficulty, he raised his right arm, in token of fealty to the Great Captain of his salvation. To a farmer, an intimate and kind friend, he said a few days previously, "O Finch, however overcome by worldly employments, yet never, never neglect prayer. Oh! what should I do now without prayer?"

His poor widow and children are both in deep sorrow and poverty. We have, however, raised her ten pounds; and I trust she has the love of God in her heart, and says, in truth, "Thy will be done."



"This day, a week past, I entered a room where I found a woman confined with two children of eight days. The woman being so shortly confined, and apparently rather weak, I did not wish to excite her frame by many serious words, wherefore I spake one or two to her heart, and left her. I do not remember what I said, but some word must have gone to her heart. day, I was told she was in great terrors of mind; since six days, she had called out, I am lost, I am lost;' and had always spoken of a man of God, who had visited her, and whom she knew could help her. As she was alone when I found her, no one knew who that man was. Her relations had sent to her pastor, the Roman Catholic priest, who had been there too. But she had continued to ask for the said man. At last the people thought of me, and I was called. When I entered the room, she was full of joy. I asked her what she wished of me. 'Oh,' said she, 'you know very well, sir, what I need; you know it much better than I can tell you. I know you can help me. Oh, do help me! I pray you, do help me!' I asked her: Have you transgressed against any of the commandments of God? Have you sins upon your conscience?' 'Oh, yes! so many, many sins! O, I am a creature not worthy to tread the ground; I am lost! O, what shall I do; what shall I do? Should there be grace for me? No; for me, there is no grace; I am too bad! Six day and nights, I have wrestled with God, and implored him. I have prayed to the mother of God, and to all the saints, but nothing but hell and damnation is left for me!' I put the second question: And do you know, also,

that Jesus has tasted, and suffered, in your stead, all the punishments which you have brought upon yourself by your sins?" I had hardly finished the question, when she stretched forth her hands towards heaven, and exclaimed, with an extremely deep groan, O God! my God! what a comfort! O, how sweet! What a word is that! Did I not always say, that man must come, and bring me a word from God, which can help me? Now, I have heard the word full of comfort, sweetness, and joy. O, now pray over me,' said she, taking hold of my hand.' This I did, laying the poor soul at the feet of Christ, imploring him to take and sprinkle her heart and conscience with his cleansing blood, and to send down his peace into her soul. She shouted in exclamation of joy, when I uttered the latter words of supplication; and at the end, she poured out her heart in most pathetic praises to her Redeemer, whom she embraced with overpowering bliss."

In copying this, I will only add, that I have spent several delightful hours with this poor woman. I had to correct her of many errors of the Popish Church. The truth, however, had in every respect such a powerful bearing upon her mind, that, as soon as she heard it pronounced, the error was vanished, and the truth apprehended in so full a light, that I sometimes was dazzled by it.

On the next day, she frequently called out, "Mary! O Mary! thou hast nothing for me. Saints! you have nothing for me. But Thou, O Jesus! O my Jesus! thou art my All! My enemies I forgave; I prayed for them; but this, too, gave no peace to my tormented soul. But now, O Jesus! in thee all my guilt is lost, and my heart has peace and joy."

Soon after this, she was visited with a severe sickness, in consequence of which she died in a few days.

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When Duaterra, a native chief, left New Zealand, his sole object was to see the King of England. He knew, perhaps, that visiting him would be productive of much personal wealth in returning to his own land, as Shunghee had been enriched before; but we give him not motives which were not expressed. He entered into compact with a captain of a vessel sailing from New Zealand, to work his passage to England, and receive a certain remuneration on landing. He was to be permitted to see the king, and then be brought back to his own land. This occurred in the year 1813 or 1814; and when Duaterra made this compact, he forsook his country and his friends, and trusted himself to the hands of a fo reigner to those who had often dealt unfairly. The vessel arrived after fifteen months' passage; but of Duaterra we heard nothing. Then Mr. Marsden was in England, and about to return to New Holland, with the difficulties of opening a mission in New Zealand on his mind; but, at the same time, determined to seize every op

portunity which might offer, and try what could be done. The vessel which brought Duaterra here was unable to go back; and it so happened, that he returned on board the same ship as Mr. Marsden. When they had been three days at sea, one of the sailors came to Mr. Marsden, and told him there was a New Zealander in the vessel, dying in his hammock. His pride prevented any disclosure of his history; and requested Mr. Marsden to see him, and to speak to him. He went, and found a native chief, covered with the tattered remnants of a soldier's watch-coat, apparently labouring under incipient consumption; his body wasting with disease, and his heart broken with disappointment, and smothering the deep feeling of revenge. Mr. Marsden spoke to him; but it was not till after several days that Duaterra told his history: how he had been ill-treated on board during his passage to England, flogged for the faults of others, and not permitted to put his foot on shore in Britain, because it would then have been easy to avenge his treatment. He told his tale of disappointed hope; that he was robbed of his stipulated pay, and sold on board this vessel. Mr. Marsden spoke affectionately to him, and spoke of the Gospel; and before Mr. M. landed in Sydney, the New Zealander's heart was bound under the simple preaching of the cross; and clinging to Mr. Marsden, about to be separated from him, Duaterra said, "Oh! if you have a heart of compassion within you, send some one to preach the Gospel to my poor countrymen." "Will you protect them?" said Mr. Marsden. "Yes," said he, the chief of seven hundred people, "if I am acknowledged still, I will give my protection to them." Duaterra, after three years and five months, arrived home. Our missionaries landed under the promise that he had made; not a hair of their heads has ever been hurt; and the golden chain that binds us to New Zealand, that bright colony of England, finds in its first link a New Zealander, ill-treated in a British ship, flung into the hold, and returning, abused and insulted, to his native land. But it was God's call to us.


While for man his love expressing-
Man immersed in heathen night;
While his chosen servants blessing,
He was parted from their sight;
Clouds of glory

Bore him to the realms of light.

Left alone, they stood astounded,
Gazing at the solemn scene;
Half rejoicing, yet confounded,
Wondering what this act should mean;
While they wondered,

Lo, two angels near were seen!

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