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sionally entertained that his days might be prolonged; but in these hopes he did not participate.“ Dr. J-," said he to his almost broken-hearted mother, says, he thinks I am better, and that I may recover ; but I shall never be better in this world : I know I shall die.” “ Would you rather live than die ? ” inquired his parent. He replied, “I wish to live, that I may have it in my power to make you, my dear mother, some return for all your tender care of me. Otherwise, I wish to die.” “Why so ?” “ Because I should go to heaven, and be with my brother John, and see my grandfather and grandmother, and aunts, whom I never saw in this world.” “ How do you know you should go to heaven? On what do you ground your expectation ?”. " Because I love God; and I know he loves rne. I know that Jesus Christ died to atone for my sins; and that God, for Christ's sake, has pardoned them all.” On his mother expressing a hope that he might yet be spared, he said, “ Nothing is too difficult for God to do : for in the days of his flesh, he healed the sick, restored the dying, and raised the dead.” From this time he appeared to get better ; but on the morning of Feb. 25th, 1829, he suddenly grew worse ; and, on the 28th, breathed out his soul into the hands of his gracious Redeemer, aged eleven years and fourteen days.
Such was the life, and such the death, of this lovely boy. He has left behind him a sweet savour, a blessed testimony to the truth of God, a bright example to his surviving brothers and sisters, and to every youthful reader of this memoir. He was the comfort, the delight, and the hope of his bereaved parents, to whom he never caused a moment's pain, but on account of his affilio. tion. They bow to the stroke, with humble submission to the will of Him whose right it is to give and to take away. They are pressing to the issues of death ; and have a joyful hope of meeting him again, where God shall wipe away every tear, and sorrow and sigh. ing shall flee away.
BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH.
O God of Israel, deign to smile
With pitying love on me;
And raise my heart to thee.
I never can repine:
If thou confess me thine.
But I will work and sing ;
From His bright palace in the skies,
He sees me where I am ;
And bid me welcome home.
THE PARTING OF SUMMER.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Thou’RT bearing hence thy roses,
Glad Summer ; fare thee well! Thou ’rt singing thy last melodies
In every wood and dell.
Of thy latest lingering day,
How hast thou pass'd away?
Thine hours have floated by, To the joyous birds of the woodland boughs, The rangers
of the sky : And brightly in the forests,
To the wild deer wandering free;
To the happy murmuring bee :
With all their hopes and fears,
To pierce the unborn years ?
Thou hast flown in burning dreams Of the woods, with all their whispering leaves,
And the blue rejoicing streams ;To the wasted and the weary
On the bed of sickness bound, In swift delirious fantasies,
That changed with every sound ;-
In longings, wild and vain,
And the homes of earth again !
How hast thou flown to me?
From thy haunts of song and glee,
Thou hast flown in wayward visions,
In memories of the dead,
O'er thy sunny pathway shed;
To fling a weight aside,
And all thy roses died.
If I greet thy flowers once more,
soul should soar ! Give me to hail thy sunshine,
With song and spirit free ; Or in a purer air than this
May that next meeting be!
AWAKE, THOU THAT SLEEPEST.
BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH
AWAKE from the slumber of sin !
Arise from the death of despair !
His wrath is too dreadful to dare :
On the world and its guilt-loving ways, What hand will be strong, or what heart can endure.
Wlien the fire of His vengeance shall blaze? Thou bearest a name, as of those
Who live in His service and love ; But dead is thy soul in its fatal repose,
White tempests are darkening above.
The beam of his light-giving eye:
And glory await thee on bigh.
While hope bids thy spirit rejoice;
And dust shall revive at His voice.
From roots that were rugged and cold,
And heaven in its beauty behold.
James Nichols, Printer, 2, Warwick Square, London.