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“ I thank you for your kind and appropriate advice concerning my soul. You ask whether I sufficiently rely on the sacrifice of Christ as my atonement. This is the very point in which I have come short. However, I thank God, that lately I have seen more correctly the way of salvation throngh the crucified Sa. viour ; and I desire to come to the cross for every thing I want; for I discern a fulness there which is suitable to my utmost necessities.”

About twelve months before bis death, he experienced a severe attack of the disorder which eventually proved fatal. He refers to this in the last letter that he wrote, which was seven days previous to his dissolution. It was as follows :

“ I bave been confined to the house nearly three weeks; and bave, at present, no prospect of speedy deliverance. I feel á gra. cious resignation to the will of God; though in the former part of my pain and affliction I was anxious to recover, owing to a fear of death. Nearly twelve months ago, I thought if my life were spared one year more, that I would make great spiritual improvement in that time. Now that period bas nearly elapsed; and that I had made so little progress distressed me sorely.

For some time, when my affliction allowed me to reflect on my situation, I was miserable ; for I was convinced that I had been acting as if I could do something towards my salvation, instead of coming sim. ply to the Saviour as I was, a condemned sinner, with all my mis. improved time and talents. But, blessed be God, I have lately received great comfort from the Holy Spirit, sensibly applying that scripture to my mind,-“God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them:” and I now find it a delightful duty to exercise constant reliance upon Christ. I should like to give you a further account of my state, but I feel myself unable.”

This account may be closed by the testimony of Mr. Leng, his brother-in-law, who had better opportunities of knowing him than any other person, and who writes to me as follows:

I am sorry that I cannot supply you with more perfect notices of the last moments of our departed brother. I know not whether you are aware, that for the last five or six weeks his faculties seemed very sensibly impaired, especially his memory. I spent the afternoon with bim on the Sunday.week before bis death; and he was extremely desirous to converse on the subject of his religious experience, and apparently laboured under some distressing doubts concerning his state, but bis memory was so much impaired, that he frequently forgot what he was talking about: however, I believe that, by the blessing of God, I succeeded in restoring his mind to a good degree of composure; as he expressed great pleasure in the remarks which I made, chiefly on the love and tender mercy of God. He spent the greater part of the Saturday previous to his death at my house; and appeared to be better than usual, and continued so for the four following days. The next day I did not see him; but I learned a pleasing circum

stance from his father, who, on account of indisposition, was that Sabbath confined at home. In the forepoon William requested that they might together read the morning service of the Church, which they did. Having done this, he said to his father, that he now felt wbat he had not done for some time before, (referring to the period when his faculties became impaired.) a clear sense of his acceptance with God. He was unusually cheerful on Wednesday, and retired to rest in as good a state of health as he had been in for some weeks. On the morning of Thursday, his mother looked into his room, as she was in the constant Labit of doing, and perceived that he breathed with less difficulty than usual. She raised his head, when he partially opened his eyes, and said to her, · Help me;' which were the last words he uttered. He continued in a state of insensibility until Friday morning, when he breathed bis last.

“ His Class-Leader expressed great respect for his memory and character; and said this was the common feeling of his class ; and, indeed, his piety and good conduct commanded universal esteem. He was one of those characters, who the better they are known, the more are they beloved and admired. I never leard him speak ill of an absent person. He was remarkably diligent in private prayer. His patience was very great. Though he laboured under long-continued and almost uninterrupted suffering, he was never heard to utter a murmur. I have to lament the loss of the most sincere and disinterested friend I had. Thank God,

• He is safely housed
Where bliss and love eternity embrace,
And perfect mind a perfect God adores!""

THOMAS EASTWOOD.

POETRY
HEAVEN AND EARTH.
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, FSQ.

(From The Gem.)
Behold yon bright array

Before the sapphire throne !
There young nor old, there rich nor poor,

There bond nor free, are known,
At once they strike their lyres ;

At once break off, and all,
With trembling joy, and silent love,

In adoration fall.
Whate'er their lot below,

As fellow-beirs of bliss,
In heaven their services are one;

Lot earth be heaven in this.

As brethren, so may we

Worship with one accord;
In stillness wait, in prayer bow down,

Stand up and bless the Lord.
As pilgrims on their way,

God's earthly courts we fill ;
And travel on, from strength to strength,

Abreast to Zion's hill.
There may our spirits meet,

When faith is changed to sight,
Where the Lord God himself shall be

The temple, life, and light,
Where, on the sea of glass,

The ransom'd nations sing,
And to the Lamb amidst the throne

Eternal glory bring.

SONNET TO AN EARLY VIOLET.

BY RICHARD II O WIT T.

(From The Gem.") One on this shelter'd bank, and only one :

fair comer of rude March ! the first to show A smile of triumph o'er the season gone,

White in the winds as is the drifted snow. Untended thou dost wear a cheerful look,

Cheerful as unto kindred sweets allied ; And from thee seems content breathed round this nook,

With thine own worth and grace self-satisfied.
Here art thou safe, now largest ships are strewn

In hapless wrecks about the restless sea :
Here thou dost smile,-now giant arms are blown

From oaks, and pines lie prostrate on the lea.--
Quiet in storms! Beauty in dearth! what power
Is in thy lowliness, sweet, simple flower!

TO THE IVY.
(From The Literary Gazette.)
Thou tenant of the wasted spot,

Where soften'd Desolation smiles,
And weeds are spread o'er graves fórgot,

And Ruin sigbs from grass-grown aisles;
Still present round each wither'd trunk,

Like youth which cheers the path of age ;
Or where the river wall has sunk,

Beneath Destruction's leaguring rage :

Child of decay !--no blushing flower,

Or cup of treasured sweets, is thine,
To breathe in Beauty's fragraut bower,

Or charm where statelier rivals shine.
The column of the desert place,

The warrior's cross, the nameless stone,
Receive thy clasping boughs' embrace,

And show thy clustering leaves alone.
Yet, type of Truth when Fortune wanes ;

And Grief that haunts the mouldering tomb;
And Love, that, strong as death, sustains

The whirlwind's shock and tempest’s gloom :
To me thy mournful leaf excels

The fairest buds, whose petals fling
Their odours where the summer dwells,

Or gem the verdant robe of spring.
The violet and the queen-like rose,

Frail minions of a passing day,
Brief as the faith which Falsehood shows,

But bloom while lasts their worshipp'd ray;
Yet thou, beneath the howling blast,

When all is drear, art smiling on,
Unchanged, unshrinking, to the last,

And green when even Hope is gone. J. F. H.

ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. Thou art gone, lovely child, and thy parents lament thee; They mourn thy departure, thy loss they deplore ; Though they yield thee, submissive, to Him who first lent thee ; Yet they grieve that on earth they shall see thee no more. With pleasure they hoped, as thy young mind expanded, To teach theo the paths of religion to run : Those hopes now are blasted, -thy life was demanded, Thou fledd'st as the dew when exhaled by the sun. How short was thy stay in this valley of woe ! How soon were thy pains and thy sufferings past ! Thou hast left this rude clime of affliction below; Thou wast nipp'd like a rose in its bud by the blast. O lovely sweet fow'ret! where, where art thon fled ? In some milder clime dost thou flourish and bloom ? Ah, yes ! in yon heavenly bow'rs thou dost shed Thy fragrance around, where no tempest can come. Thou hast ’scaped to the regions of peace and delight, Which pain and affliction can never assa Where visions of glory have burst on thy sight, And rapturous ploasures for over prevail.

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Our Faith now beholds thee, amid yon blest choir
Of glorified infants, who sing the new song;
And hears thee attune thy celestial lyre,
In harmonious concert with all the bright throng;
Who ceaseless ascribe to Immanuel's name,
Salvation, and honour, and glory, and praise ;
Heaven's palace resounds with the endless acclaim,
Which angels and glorified myriads raise.
Then farewell for a season, dear child, till we meet
In those realms of consummate, ineffable joy;
Till we trample sin, sorrow, and death, 'neath our feet,
And ages immortal in praises employ.
Wolsingham.

ANNETTE D

SONNET ON DEATH.

(From The Amulet.)
They picture Death a tyrant gaunt and grim,

And for his random aim, temper à dart

Of bite so mortal, that the fiery smart
Consumes and turns to dust the stoutest limb.
Thus dire to meet, yet shrink not they from him

Who walk by faith in singleness of heart;

The simply wise who choose the watchful part,
Nor let their eyelids close or lamps grow dim.

Nor always dark and terrible bis mien,
As those who by the couch the night-wateh, keep

Have known, spectators of the blessed scene,
When friends, who stand around, joy more than weep,

As with hush'd step, and smile of love serene,
In the sweet guise he comes of gentle sleep.

CHARLES STRONG,

TO THE WHITE JASMINE.

BY BERNARD -BARTON.

(From "The Gem.”) JASMINE! thy fair and starlike flower with honours should be

crown'd: In day's rude din and sunny hour, it sheds faint sweetness round; But still, at eye, its rich perfume with fragrance fills the air, As if to cheer the hours of gloom, and soothe the brow of care. O thus, in Fortune's sunny ray, the light of Love seems pale, Till dark clouds o'er the glare of day have cast their shadowy veil ; Then, like thy odours, it bursts forth, a guide to joy's glad goal, Blest beacon of surpassing worth, and pole-star of the soul !

Printed by Mills, Jowett, and Mills, Bolt-Court, Ffeet-Street.

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