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under it. Nothing but the abundant grace of God could have carried me through such a visitation: and yet I now feel it to be the greatest mercy I ever experienced. He was my idol: no trouble ever came near my heart while he was with me. I got more credit than 1 deserved for my patience under trials, which were easily borne, while he who shared and lightened them was spared to me. I had indeed prayed and struggled to be weaned from this world, but still my affection for him tied me down to earth with a strong cord: and though I did earnestly try to keep my eyes fixed on the eternal world, yet I viewed it with too feeble a faith; I viewed it at too great a distance. I found it difficult to realize it. I had deceived myself. I had fancied that I bore my troubles so well from the pure love of God, but I have fince found that my love for my husband had too great a share in reconciling me to every difficulty which I underwent for him. I lost him; the charm was broken ; the cord which tied me down to earth was cut; this world had nothing left to engage me; Heaven had now no rival in my heart. Though my love of God had always been sincere, yet I found there wanted this blow to make it perfect. But though all that had made life pleasant to me was gone, I did not fink as those who have no hope. I prayed that I might still, in this trying conflict, be enabled to adorn the doctrine of God my Saviour... * “ After many more hardships, I was at length so happy as to get an asylum in this alms-house. Here my cares are at an end, but not my duties.”_" Now you are wrong again,” interrupted Mrs. Betty, “ your duty is now to take care of yourself; for I am sure you have nothing to spare."-" There you are mistaken again," fa:d Mrs. Simplon. “ People are so apt to fancy that money is all in ail, that all the other gifts of Providence are overlooked as things of no value. I have here a great deal of leisure; a good part of this I devote to the wants of those who are more diftreffed than myself. I work a little for the old, and I instruct the young. My
eyes are good; this enables me to read the Bible either. to those whole light is decayed, or who were never taught to read. I have tolerable health, so that I am able occasionally to fit up with the fick; in the intervals of nursing, I can pray with them. In my younger days I thought it not much to sit up late for my pleasure: shall I now think much of fitting up, now and then, to watch by a dying bed? My Saviour waked and watched for me in the garden and on the mount; and shall I do nothing for his suffering members? It is only by keeping his sufferings in view that we can truly practise charity to others, or exercise self-denial to ourlelves.”
“ Well,” said Mrs. Betty, “ I think if I had lived in fuch genteel life as you have done, I could never be reconciled to an alms-house; and I am afraid I should never forgive any of those who were the cause of sending me there, particularly that Farmer Thomas who turned you out of doors." .
« Betty,” said Mrs. Simpson, “I not only forgive him heartily, but I remember him in my prayers, as one of those instruments with which it has pleased God to work for my good. Oh! never put off forgiveness to a dying bed! When people come to die, we often see how the conscience is troubled with fins, of which before they hardly felt the existence. How ready are they to make restitution of ill-gotten gain; and this, perhaps, for two reasons; from a feeling conviction that it can be of no use to them where they are going, as well as froin a near view of their own responsibility. We also hear from the most hardened, of death-bed forgiveness of cnemies: Even malefactors at Tyburn forgive. But why must we wait for a dying bed to do what ought to be done now? Believe me, that scene will be fo full of terror and amazement to the soul, that we had not neech load it with unnecessary business.” . Just as Mrs. Simpson was saying these words, a letter was brought her from the minister of the parish where the farmer lived, by whom Mr. Simpson had been turned out of his cottage: The letter was as follows:
.“ MADAM, .!. “ I write to tell you that your old oppreffor, Mei Thomas, is dead. I attended him in his. last moments: O, njay.my latter end never be like his! I shall not soon forget his despair at the approach of death. His riches, which had been his fole joy, now doubled his sorrows; for he was going where they could be of no use to him; and he found too late that he had laid up no treasure in heaven. He felt great concern at his past life, but for nothing more than his unkindness to Mr. Simpson. He charged me to find you out, and let you know, that by his will he bequeathed you five hundred pounds, as some compensation. He died in great agonies; declaring with his last breath, that if he could live his life over again, he would serve God, and strictly observe the Sabbath.
." Yours, &c.
“ J. JOHNSTON.”
Mrs. Betty, who had listened attentively to the letter, jumped up, clapped, her hands, and cried out, “ Now all is for the best, and I shall see you a lady once more.”' - I amn, indeed, thankful for this mercy," said Mrs. Simpson, “and ain glad that riches were not sent me till I had learned, as I humbly hope, to make a right use of them. But come, let us go in, for I am very cold, and find I have fat too long in the night air."
. Betty was now ready enough to acknowledge the hand of Providence in this prosperous event, though she was blind to it when the dispensation was more dark. Next morning the went early to visit Mrs. Simpson, but not seeing her below, she went up stairs, where, to her great sorrow, thic found her confined to her bed by a fever,
caught the night before by Gitting so late on the bench • reading the letter, and talking it over. Betty was now. more ready to cry out against Providence than ever. “ What! to catch a fever while you were reading that very letter which told you about your good fortune; which would have enabled you to live like a lady as you
are. I never will believe this is for the best; to be deprived of life just as you were beginning to enjoy it!”. 1.6 Betty,” said Mrs. Simpson, " we must learn not to -rate health nor life itself too highly. There is little in life, for its own sake, to be fond of. As a good archbishop used to say, 'tis but the same thing over again, or probably worse: so many more nights and days, summers and winters; a repetition of the same pleasures, but with · less relish for them; a return of the same or greater pains, but with less strength, and perhaps less patience, to bear them.”_" Well," replied Betty, “I did think that Providence was at last giving you your reward.” “ Reward !” cried Mrs. Simpson. “O, no! my merciful Father will not put me off with so poor a portion as wealth; I feel I shall die."-" It is very hard, indeed,” said Betty, “ so good as you are, to be taken off just as your prosperity was beginning."-" You think I am good just now," said Mrs. Simpson, “because I am prosperous. Success is no sure mark of God's favour: at this rate, you, who judge by outward things, would have thought Herod a better man than John the Baptist; and if I may be allowed to say so, you, on your principles that the sufferer is the finner, would have believed Pontius Pilate higher in God's favour than the Saviour whom he condemned to die for your fins and mine.”
In a few days Mrs. Betty found that her new friend was dying, and though she was struck at her resignation, The could not forbear murmuring that so good a woman should be taken away at the very inftant when she came into poffeffion of so much money. « Betty,” said Mrs. Simpson in a feeble voice, “ I believe you love me dearly', you would do any thing to cure: me; yet you do not love me so well as God loves me, though you would raise me up, and He is putting a period to my life. He has never sent me a single stroke which was not absolutely necessary for me. You, if you could restore me, inight be laying me open to some temptation from which God, by removing, will deliver me. Your kindness in making this world so smooth for me, I might for ever have de
Vol. II, No. 6.
plored in a world of misery. God's grace in afflicting me, will hereafter be the subject of my praises in a world of bleffed nefs. Betty,” added the dying woman,“ do you really think that I am going to a place of reft and joy eternal ?” “ To be sure I do," said Betty.--" Do you firmly believe that I am going to the afleinbly of the first born; to the spirits of juft men made perfect; to God the judge of all, and to Jesus the mediator of the new Covenant?”-“ I am sure you are,” said Betty. “ And yet,” resumed the, “ you would detain me from all this happiness; and you think my merciful Father is using me unkindly by removing me from a world of fin, and sorrow, and temptation, to such joys as have not entered into the heart of man to conceive: while it would have better suited your notions of reward to defer my entrance into the blessedness of heaven, that I might have enjoyed a legacy of a few hundred pounds! Believe my dying words - ALL IS FOR THE BEST.”
Mrs. Simpson expired soon after, in a frame of mind which convinced her new friend that “God's ways, are not as our ways."
Remarks of the Prophecies and Prontifes relating to the
Glory of the latter Day...
(From the London Evangelical Magazine.] LITHEN the Christian seriously reflects on the state
of mankind at large, a melancholy gloom spreads over the mind. How large a part of the inhabitants of the earth “ fit in darkness, and in the region and shadow of death!”—The person, therefore, who is concerned for the honour of God, and the best interest of his fellow-creatures, cannot but ardently pray, that the way of the Lord may“ be known upon earth, and his faving health among all nations." And a more pleasing idea can scarcely be indulged than the approach of that period, when, “ from the rising of the sun, even to the going down of the same, the name of the Lord thall