all the saints in glory,) not one longing to be as beautiful as his neighbour, but all fully glorious."

She was very infirm a great length of time before her death, and often so unwell as to keep her bed. I asked her, on one of these occasions, "How do you feel, Mrs. A.?" She smiled, and added, "Oh, comfortably, very comfortably; I can fairly feel the blessings of God flow down upon me with the moments as they come.' "Do you, then, long to depart ?” "No,

1

I don't say that; I hardly know why, but I rather say, 'Spare me a little.' I don't seem to want more of the world, but my folks would miss me; and the poor, I like to see them. Just look at that book, (a book of prayers,) I am fond of it, and it comforts many a poor neighbour-I hope I always teach them right-I go leaning on the higher help-I often tell them when I leave them, Now, till I come back, pray thus, "God be merciful to me a sinner.' I felt that in this I could not teach them wrong."

Her death appeared to come on by degrees, without any material illness. She got more and more infirm, till she at length kept her bed. She now began to long to depart, and when I visited her, and asked her if she still wished for life, she said, "No, I have passed through life, and now I look for a better; I wished much to take leave of you before I went home." "You still feel comfortable ?" "Yes, very: there lies all my comfort," pointing to the Bible. She then fell asleep, for she kept awake very little at a time. The next and last time I saw her, while she was able to speak, I said, "Mrs. A., it will soon be over with you, tell me where is your hope ?" "I see none but the crucified Saviour; glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost." "You do not mention any of your good or kind actions as your trust." "No, surely; he needs none of our patched-works to mend his whole: I know the Spirit must cleanse; I believe he has taught me to be quite washed, I know what you mean. I said, "It's a great work to die." "Yes; but I don't dread going; it's better to go home; I have had plenty of years here."

Her mind appeared, after this, to wander; yet she said, "You know I never gave myself any rest till áll my poor neighbours (God bless them when I'm gone) had each a Bible, and had all heard those blessed books," (alluding to the Friendly Visitor.) She then fell asleep, and spoke but little. Afterwards, she sent for the village school-mistress, and said, "I thought just to take leave of you-farewell, I am going to rest, I long to be gone; I have laid up my treasure above for many years, and now I go to it."

To another friend she said, "God bless you, neighbour, and your children." "And God bless you," the neighbour replied. "He does, and I am willing to go to him, and the Lord be with you, till we meet again." This neighbour mentioned her death with many tears, saying, "And now she is gone, the village weeps, for such a mother never lived; the whole parish stood in the church-yard to see her committed to the earth.” Who can say, "I was ill, and she did not come and comfort me"? Both soul and body she longed to bless; often has she stood over me in my illnesses as if she was my mother; and when I have mourned over my sins, she has been almost ready to comfort me too much. She always said, "Look up, look up; remember God's mercy; if it was not greater than our iniquity, who could be saved?" I have added, "Oh, but this load of guilt!" "Yes; but still look up-Christ is stronger than all." I said, "Why do you try thus to revive me? I ought to mourn." "Yes; but God is so merciful, I cannot help but tell you, neighbour." I reminded her of this before she died, and I saw it true in her case: she said, "Yes, I said he was merciful, and I myself feel it to the last." "She died," added this neighbour, "without any apparent pain; she fairly seemed to sleep life away."

UNGODLINESS.

This circumstance was related to me by an aged, excellent Christian labourer, who for years, after his day's work, spent the even

ing in reading and trying to benefit all who wanted any spiritual help or instruction, and written down at the time.

A poor man of our village being seized with sudden illness, sent for me, and began to enquire very anxiously what he must do, for he was not fit to die. His wife too was very poorly. I talked an hour to them both. They paid great attention, and seemed anxious when I left, to begin a new course of life. He soon recovered, and I had heard nothing of him for some time, when in the middle of one night, I was called up and asked to see him, for he thought he was dying. On my entering the room, he seemed to be in great distress, and said he was a miserable creature, for that after I left, he had forgotten all I had said, had lived as he did before, and what must he do now. I doubted whether these convictions were more than the fear of death, perhaps of death eternal, for he trembled much. I told him very plainly what I thought of his state, and charged him not to deceive himself, but pray for real repentance.

About three weeks after this, my master's business took me to their house. They were then as busy in the world as ever, nor did their hearts at all desire either me or my company. I tried to bring serious conversation before them: but no-just then, they were engaged. I shook my head as I left, and said, "Did not I say how it would be?"

Not a great while from this time, the wife sent for me to come directly. I went. Truly, she was dying, and that in a dreadful state of heart and feelings. Alarmed and frightened, I can only say she seemed to me to be shaken over hell itself. Now she remembered all I had said-now she called upon me to pray and pray again. She reproached her worldly heart and the hours she had ever thought of it again after my first visit; but she could not receive one word of comfort. I waited with her about two hours, and thus she died.

In less than a fortnight, the husband was very ill. When I got there, he tried to persuade me, what I told him he never should in the state he then was, that he was a Christian. He spoke of Jesus coming to save sinners. "Yes," I replied, "but not for those to take comfort in him, who love their sins too well to leave them, till they are forced away into another world." I asked him what good he had got from his former illness, from his wife's death, from his Bible he had promised to read, "for," I said, "affliction

left you either better or worse." He replied, that he had got good "Then," I said, "friend, why did you

he thought, from them.

not shew it us before this? Why did you live as before? I fear for you, and 1 dare not take your loss upon me. Don't think as you have begun, but begin now. You did not get real repentance, I fear. He then replied, "I could not help that. I could not give it myself. God must give me all good, you know.” "Yes, but you could do as we are all permitted and ordered to do, as reasonable creatures. You could look up to the God of all blessings, and wait upon him; but I never saw you any where where he was present, or among his saints." I told him, there could not, to my mind, be any stronger mark that his repentance was not of God's gift, than the words he had used, his being ready to blame God that he did not feel more. Set this distinction down: the world all blame God for all as goes wrong, both in their hearts and circumstances, if they would own it; but directly a soul is really converted, he takes all blame to himself, and gives God all the glory. I explained to him the way of salvation, and what I felt his state was, a sinner building on a false foundation. But I left him as I found him; for though he said he trusted to Christ, yet I replied, 'yes, just because you cannot help it. You would trust no one," I said, "if you were well again, and could trust for a long life, this world, and ease." I could not shake his delusion. I saw him again, and found him still the same--very soon after, he died.

THE BENEFIT OF THE BIBLE.

Mr. John Holland, B. D., a memorable saint, and rarely qualified preacher, how did he comfort himself with the holy Scriptures, in the valley of the shadow of death. The day before he died, it pleased him, as formerly often, then the more eagerly, to call for the holy Bible, with these very words: "Come, oh, come, death approacheth, let us gather flowers to comfort this hour;" and turn. ing with his own hands to the 6th of Romans, he gave me the book (said Mr. Leigh, Rector of Standish), and bade me read. At the end of every verse, he made a pause, and gave the sense in such sort and feeling, which was much, we saw, for his comfort, but more to our joy and wonder. Having thus continued his meditations and expositions for the space of two hours or more, on the

sudden, he exclaimed, "Oh, stay your reading; what brightness is this I see? Have you lighted up any candles?" To which I answered, "No. It is the sunshine;" for it was about five of a fine summer's evening. “Sunshine,” saith he, “Nay my Saviour shines! Now, farewell, world, and welcome, heaven! The daystar from on high hath visited mine heart. Oh, speak it when I am gone, and preach it at my funeral, God dealeth familiarly with man.' I feel his mercy. I see his majesty, whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell; God, he knoweth. But I see things that are unutterable." So ravished in spirit, he roamed towards heaven, with a cheerful look, and soft, sweet voice; but what he said, we could not conceive. But at last, sinking down again, he gave a sigh, with these words, “As yet, it will not be, my sins keep me from my God." Thus, this evening, twice rising, and twice falling, the following morning, he rose, never to fall again. When rising, as Jacob did, on the top of his staff, he shut up his blessed life, with these most blessed words; "Oh, what an happy change shall I make, from night to day, from darkness to light, from death to life, from sorrow to solace, from a factious world to an heavenly being. Oh, my dear brothers, and sisters, and friends, it pitieth me to leave you behind me, yet remember my death when I am gone; and what I now feel, I hope you will feel 'ere you die, That God doth and will deal familiarly with man.' And now, those fiery chariots which came down to fetch up Elijah, carry me to my happy home; and all ye blessed angels, who attended the soul of Lazarus, bring me up to heaven, bear me, oh, bear me into the bosom of my Best Beloved! Amen! Amen! Come, Lord Jesus Christ, come quickly. And so he fell asleep..

ON THE PROMISES.

What is the covenant of our God with his own people? It is the entire heritage of the heavenly Canaan. What are the promises? They are various clusters of grapes, or blessings. Glorious constellations of the heavenly bodies, which are scattered as stars in the firmament of the Holy Scriptures; all the beauty, love, worth, sweetness our God hath prepared for us for time and eternity, are diffused throughout the promises, and collected in the covenant, as the scattered light in the creation was into the body of the sun. When God says, "Thou shalt be mine, and I will be