"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 through the crucified Saviour; 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 his 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 have been confined to the house nearly three weeks; and have, at present, no prospect of speedy deliverance. I feel a gracious 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 has 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 simply 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 him on the Sunday-week before his 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 his 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 forenoon 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 what 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 his 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 heard 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, THOMAS EASTWOOD. POETRY. HEAVEN AND EARTH. BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, ESQ. (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, Whate'er their lot below, As fellow-heirs of bliss, In heaven their services are one; As brethren, so may we Worship with one accord; In stillness wait, in prayer bow down, As pilgrims on their way, God's earthly courts we fill; And travel on, from strength to strength, There may our spirits meet, When faith is changed to sight, 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 HOW ITT. (From "The Gem.") ONE on this shelter'd bank, and only one : Cheerful as unto kindred sweets allied; And from thee seems content breathed round this nook, TO THE IVY. (From "The Literary Gazette.") THOU tenant of the wasted spot, Beneath Destruction's leaguring rage: Child of decay!-no blushing flower, The warrior's cross, the nameless stone, And show thy clustering leaves alone. The fairest buds, whose petals fling The violet and the queen-like rose, ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. J. F. H. THOU art gone, lovely child, and thy parents lament thee; Though they yield thee, submissive, to Him who first lent thee; Those hopes now are blasted,-thy life was demanded,— How short was thy stay in this valley of woe! Our Faith now beholds thee, amid yon blest choir In harmonious concert with all the bright throng; Then farewell for a season, dear child, till we meet Till we trample sin, sorrow, and death, 'neath our feet, Wolsingham. ANNETTE D. SONNET ON DEATH. (From "The Amulet.”) THEY picture Death a tyrant gaunt and grim, As those who by the couch the night-watch keep 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; Printed by Mills, Jowett, and Mills, Bolt-Court, Fleet-Street. |