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tide of feeling on which they are borne, began to sink within me. I fear," addressing myself to the father, "that you are in trouble ?" "Oh, yes, Sir, our hearts are all bursting; for death is coming to bear off our little Jemima. She is up-stairs, Sir, where she has now been these eight days, and her mother has not left her, night or day. She is one of the sweetest girls a father ever loved." "But death," I remarked, "does not come by chance." "Oh, no, Sir; The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord; but it is hard work to part."

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"Walk up, Sir," said the father, "and see her before she dies; but she is so changed!" I entered her room, and soon perceived that death had cast his fatal shadow on her countenance, which still retained its beautiful form. Addressing myself to the child, I said; "Do you think you shall die?” “Yes, Sir." "And if you die, where do you expect to go "To heaven." 99 What makes you think you shall go to heaven ?" Jesus Christ has said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.'" do you understand by coming to Jesus Believing in him, and loving him." always believe in him, and love him?" not till he inclined me; for, if we love him, it is because he first loved us." "Then you can leave father and mother, and all, to go to heaven "Yes, Sir; I have no wish to live on earth, when I have the prospect of living a nobler and happier life in glory."

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"What Christ " Did you "No, Sir,

The surgeon, who had been anxiously expected for several hours, now arrived. "Do you think," said the heart-struck mother, "the child is dying ?" This question, though familiar to the humane man, was not heard without an evident expression of grief. "While there is life," he replied, there is hope; but I would not advise you to be too sanguine in your expectations." There was no burst of sorrow at this reply. They all knew that the child was dying, though they were unwilling to believe it; and, though their pulse beat a little quicker on, hearing this reply, and their faces turned pale, yet they stood pressing round the bed, as if to keep off the king of terrors, whose advanced guards had taken the forlorn hope.

We now walked down stairs; and, as the storm was over, the surgeon left, but I could not leave.

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"Will you, Sir," said the father, go to prayer with us? If it were not for prayer, and the hope which the gospel inspires, my heart would break." With this request I complied; and, while praying to the God of all grace, that the little child might be favoured with the light of his countenance in her passage through the valley of the shadow of death, I heard the mother's shriek, which convinced me that she was gone. All wept aloud; the children started up, wringing their hands, and calling," Jemima, Jemima, don't leave us!" and the mother, with a softened melancholy of countenance, appeared among us, saying, with a faultering tongue," She exclaimed, as I was raising her up on the pillow, 'I am going to glory! and fell back in my arms, and died,"

I remained with them about a quarter of an hour after this, and administered to them the consolations of religion, and then left them, in company with the eldest boy, who kindly offered to conduct me to the villa, which I reached about ten o'clock. I related to my friends the adventures of the evening, which compensated for the deep anxiety which my long absence, and the state of the weather, had occasioned. When reflecting on this fact, and contrasting the bright prospect which the gospel of Christ unveils to the aged, or the juvenile Christian, with the dark and cheerless gloom of infidelity, I feel its superiority to be so immense, that language cannot give utterance to the feelings of my mind.

The following epitaph, written by Robert Robinson, on four infant children, is so beautiful, that its insertion may very properly close this number.

Epitaph in Hauxton Church-yard, near Cambridge : "Bold Infidelity! Turn pale, and die.

Beneath this stone four infants' ashes lie;

Say, are they lost or saved?

If death's by sin, they sinn'd, because they're here. If heav'n's by works, in heaven they can't appear. Reason, oh, how depraved!

Revere the sacred page, the knot's untied;

They died, for Adam sinn'd; they live, for Jesus

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W. Sears, Printer, 45, Gutter-Lane, Cheapside.

[No. 11

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"On passing by a cottage, which stood a small distance from a foot-path which I was crossing, I saw a labourer, with two of his sons, at work in his garden." Page 4.

London:

PRINTED FOR FRANCIS WESTLEY, 10, STATIONERS'COURT, AND AVE-MARIA-LANE.

SABBATH MORNING

ᎪᎢ

THE VILLA.

"Sweet day of rest! for thee I'd wait;
Emblem and earnest of a state,

Where saints are fully bless'd!
For thee I'd look, for thee I'd sigh,
I'd count the days till thou art nigh,
Sweet day of sacred rest!"

KELLY.

I AWOKE early on Sabbath morning, and, after presenting my sacrifice of prayer and of praise at the footstool of my Father's throne, I retired to an adjoining study to indulge my sacred musings. "This is the Lord's day; may the spirit of devotion rest upon me; may no vain thoughts, impure desires, no distracting cares, be permitted to obstruct my devout meditations! O Thou, whom unseen I love, be thou my Strength and my exceeding great Reward; draw me into a state of closer fellowship with Thee, and enable me to walk worthy of my high vocation. There is nothing which I am more anxious to attain, than entire conformity to thy image. Clothe me with humility, as with a garment, and may supreme love to thyself glow with undiminished ardour within my breast. Extend the shield of thy providence around my person and my character; be a Light to direct my steps: give me wisdom to derive lessons of moral improvement from every occurrence; and, after I have finished my course on earth, O may I be permitted to cast my crown at thy feet, and join the general assembly of the church of the first-born, in singing, Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to Him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. lations 1. 5, 6.

PRINTED BY J. HADDON, 12, TABERNACLE WALK.

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After gazing awhile on the enchanting scenery of nature, I let fall the window blind, that I might have a more easy controul over my mind, by cutting off its intercourse with the variety of objects which struck my senses. On seeing "Hervey's Meditations" laying on the table, I read his "Descant upon Creation." The concluding paragraph of this piece is so beautiful, and displays so much of the spirit of a devout Christian, that I cannot forege the temptation I feel to transcribe it.

"Most of all, ye ministers of the sanctuary; heralds commissioned from above; lift every one his voice like a trumpet, and loudly proclaim the Redeemer. Get ye up, ye ambassadors of peace, get ye up into the high mountains; and spread far and wide the honours of the Lamb, that was slain, but is alive for evermore. Teach every sacred roof to resound with his fame, and every human heart to glow with his love. Declare, as far as the force of words will go, declare the inexhaustible fulness of that great atonement, whose merits are commensurate with the glories of the Divinity. Tell the sinful wretch, what pity yearns in Immanuel's breast; what blood he has spilt, what agonies he has endured, what wonders he has wrought, for the salvation of his enemies. Invite the indigent to become rich; entreat the guilty to accept of pardon; because, with the crucified Jesus is plenteous redemption, and all-sufficiency to save. While you, placed in conspicuous stations, pour the joyful sound, may I, as I steal through the vale of humble life, catch the pleasing accents! For me, the Author of all blessings became a curse; for me his bones were dislocated, and his flesh was torn. He hung with streaming veins, and an agonizing soul, on the cross for me. Oh! may I, in my little sphere, and amidst the scanty circle of my acquaintance, at least whisper these glad transporting tidings! Whisper them from my own heart, that they may surely reach and sweetly penetrate theirs.

"But when men and angels raise the grand hymn; when all worlds, and all beings, add their collective acclamations; this full, fervent, and universal chorus will be so inferior to the riches of the Redeemer's grace; so disproportionate to the magnificence of his glory; that it will seem but to debase the unutterable subject it attempts to exalt. The

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