to my daughter; for she said, "In a little time my redeemed soul will be for ever with the Lord, and my body laid to rest with the dust of the saints."

About six weeks before her death many friends came to see her, and to pray with her; after which I said, "You see there is no possibility of her recovery." After the friends were gone she said to me "Father, I am sorry you speak so unadvisedly with your lips; you know that all things are possible with God, and that there is nothing too hard for the Lord." But at the same time, she said, she was fully persuaded that she was near the end of her pilgrimage-adding, God hath willed everything for the best." She was kept calm, patient, and comfortable. The name of Jesus was, unto her soul, like ointment poured forth, while she was waiting for her peaceful dismission. The morning that she died, she called me to her bed-side, and put her arms round my neck, and kissed me, and thanked me for all my paternal care-adding, "You have been a kind father." She further said, "I hope you will be kept from grieving about me; all is well; and in a little time we shall meet where there is neither sin nor sorrow, in a state of rest and perfect glory, never more to part.”

Thus died in the Lord, Martha, my daughter, aged nine years and four months; and, like the gathered rose, leaving a fragrance behind evidencing that she was born of God, and saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation.-Zion's Casket, Jan., 1837.

CHILDREN taught to read the Bible,

In this highly-favoured land!
Teach the children, Lord, to prize it!
May it prove the children's friend!
Favored children!

Who its truths can comprehend.

May this sacred Revelation,

Well instruct the youthful mind,
To escape the world's temptation,
And its evils leave behind.

Happy children!

Who can this true wisdom find.

Hark! those children now in glory,
How they sing of Jesus there.

'Twas his grace that made them holy;
Yes, before they entered there.
Blessed children!
Taken from the evil here.

E.

CHEERING WORDS PICKED UP IN THE STREETS.

To the Editor of Cheering Words.

SIR,-I take the liberty of trespassing on your attention, hoping thereby (under the blessing of the eternal God) to cheer the heart of some soul in Zion. It has been the practice with me for years frequently to pick up scraps of paper that have reading on them, which

see as I pass through the streets. Passing along Whitechapel Road lately, I picked up a dirty bit of paper that appeared to have been printed at least a century; it was the lower half of a leaf, and contained (to me) the following sweet and truthful words :

What mean these jealousies and fears ?
As if the Lord was loth to save,
Or lov'd to see us drench'd in tears;
Or sink with sorrow to the grave.
Does he want slaves to grace his throne ?
Or rules he with an iron rod ?
Loves he the deep despairing groan ?
Is he a tyrant or a God?

Not all the sins which we have wrought

So much his tender bowels grieve,
As this unkind, injurious thought,
That he's unwilling to forgive.

At the bottom corner I found these words, "Watt's Lyrics." Well, I thought, the dear old Doctor knew "the truth as it is in Jesus," there can be no doubt, or he never could have penned so truthfully our measurings and thoughts of God, as they, alas! frequently are, and what God really is a God pardoning iniquity, transgression, and sin; slow to anger, plenteous in mercy, rejoicing not in the death of a sinner, yet by no means clearing the guilty; who sent his beloved Son with a message of mercy and truth"whose blood cleanseth us from all sin." Now should this be thought worthy a corner in Cheering Words, may it cheer the soul of some weakling, and I will give thanks.

17, Old Church Road, Stepney.

G. BUTLER.

"To serve God, and to promote his glory, is the highest honor and happiness, and the noblest employ of man, To believe in Jesus as the Sent One of the Father, is the command and will of God; and to do his will, is all that angels aspire to accomplish."

MR. SPURGEON

ON THE

DEATH-BED SAYINGS OF SOME EMINENT SAINTS.

(To the Editor of Cheering Words.)

DEAR SIR,-I have lately fallen in with some solid and sedate Christians who find great fault with what they call “the improper and unbecoming carriage of Mr. Spurgeon in the pulpit." This mistaken species of opposition I wish to descant upon in a future number of your work: but the closing up of matters prevents it now. Only this I may say-that Rowland Hill, with his deep native wit, was not John Owen, with his grave demeanour, and deeply solid tone; John Berridge was not John Bunyan; Ralph Erskine was not Rutherford; the stately, the solemn, the apparently unusually humble Brooks, of Brighton, was not the lively and energetic James Wells, of the Borough. Ministers, and Christian men, of all classes, have their different make of mind. Nature has many moulds, in which the minds of men are cast. The variety of mind, and the amazing difference between the tendency of men's spirits, is one of the brightest displays of Divine wisdom. Is it not a pity that because Mrs. Deeply-double-tone has not a buoyancy of spirit like Mr. Naturally-Elastic; or that because Mr. Hagar-under-the-yoke cannot rejoice and be cheerful like Mr. Gracious-Christ-embracer, that therefore one should condemn the other? O, let it not be! But on this, if you will permit, another time much more. The following solemn contrast between death-bed scenes, and the saints' happy sayings, must not even be taken as an unalterable rule. No; death, and life, in all men, is very, very different. Nevertheless, you will, I think, agree, that Mr. Spurgeon has here given us both solemn and cheering words. He was preaching on the death of the Christian, when he said

And now comes a sweet thought, that death to the Christian is always acceptable :-"Thou shalt come to thy grave." Old Caryl makes this remark on this verse:-"a willingness and a cheerful

ness to die. Thou shalt come, thou shalt not be dragged or hurried to thy grave, as it is said of the foolish rich man, Luke xii. This night shall thy soul be taken from thee. But thou shalt come to thy grave, thou shalt die quietly and smilingly, as it were, thou shalt go to thy grave, as it were upon thine own feet, and rather walk, than be carried in thy sepulchre." The wicked man, when he dies, is driven to his grave, but the Christian comes to his grave. Let me tell you a parable.-Behold two men sat together in the same house when Death came to each of them. He said to one, "Thou shalt die." The man looked at him-tears suffused his eyes, and tremblingly he said, "O Death, I cannot, I will not die." He sought out a physician, and said to him, "I am sick, for Death hath looked upon me. His eyes have paled my cheeks, and I fear I must depart. Physician, there is my wealth, give me health and let me live." The physician took his wealth, but gave him not his health, with all his skill. The man changed his physician, and tried another, and thought that perhaps he might spin out the thread of life a little longer. But, alas! Death came and said, "I have given thee time to try thy varied excuses, come with me; thou shalt die.” And he bound him hand and foot, and made him go to that dark land of shades. As the man went he clutched at every side-post by the way; but Death, with iron hands, still pulled him on. There was not a tree that grew along the way but he tried to grasp it, but Death said, "Come on! thou art my captive, and thou shalt die." And unwillingly, as the laggard schoolboy, who goeth slowly to school, so did he trace the road with Death. He did not come to his grave, but Death fetched him to it:-the grave came to him.

But Death said to the other man, "I am come for thee." He smilingly replied, "Ah, Death; I know thee, I have seen thee many a time. I have held communion with thee. Thou art my Master's servant, thou hast come to fetch me home. Go, tell my Master I am ready; whene'er he pleases. Death, I am ready to go with thee." And together they went along the road, and held sweet company. Death said to him, "I have worn these skeletonbones to frighten wicked men; but I am not frightful. I will let thee see myself. The hand that wrote upon Belshazzar's wall was terrible because no man saw anything but the hand; but," said Death, "I will shew thee my whole body." Men have only seen my bony hand, and have been terrified." And as they went along

Death ungirded himself to let the Christian see his body; and he smiled, for it was the body of an angel. He had wings of cherubs, and a body glorious as Gabriel. The Christian said to him, "Thou art not what I thought thou wast: I will cheerfully go with thee.” At last Death touched the believer with his hand,-it was even as when the mother doth in sport smite her child a moment. The child loves that loving pinch upon the arm, for it is a proof of affection. So did Death put his finger on the man's pulse, and stopped it for a moment, and the Christian found himself by Death's kind finger changed into a spirit; yea, found himself brother to the angels; his body had been etherealized, his soul purified, and he himself was in heaven. You tell me this is only a parable; but let me give you some facts that shall back it up. I will tell you some of the death-bed sayings of dying saints, and shew you that, to them, Death has been an agreeable visitant, of whom they were not afraid. You will not disbelieve dying men. It were ill to act the hypocrite's part at such a time. When the play is over men will take off the mask and so with these men when they come to die—they stand out in solemn unclothed reality.

:

First, let me tell you what Dr. Owen said,—that celebrated prince of Calvinists. While his works are to be found, I am not afraid that men shall lack arguments to defend the Gospel of Freegrace. A friend called to tell Dr. Owen that he had put to press his "Meditations on the Glory of Christ." There was a momentary gleam in his languid eye, as he answered, "I am glad to hear it. Oh!" said he, "the long-wished for time has come at last, in which I shall see that glory in another manner than I ever have done, or was capable of doing in this world."

But, you may say, this man was a mere theologian, let us hear a poet speak.

George Herbert, after some severe struggles, and having requested his wife and nieces, who were weeping in extreme anguish, to leave the room, he committed his will to Mr. Woodnott's care, crying out, "I am ready to die-Lord forsake me not now my strength faileth; but grant me mercy for the merits of my Lord Jesus. And now, Lord, receive my soul." Then he laid himself back and breathed out his life to God. Thus the poet dies. That glorious fancy of his, that might have pictured gloomy things if it had pleased, was only filled with rapturous sight of angels. As he