of my companion, with whom I walked to the house of God in company; and now I shall have one erected to the memory of her who served me, and whose remains we have just committed to the earth. Yes, and the day is not far distant, when I shall be called to rest from my labours. Ah, soon in a scene like this, I shall be the principal figure! All these ceremonies will be performed for me. But I have a sublime prospect before me. A prospect in comparison with which the boldest scenery of nature; the richest decorations of art; the most fascinating attractions of social or domestic bliss; fade away as the brilliancy of the stars is obscured by the overpowering brightness of the meridian sun." 66 'But," said Mr. Stevens, "it is not every Christian who can speak with the same degree of confidence of future happiness. Some can meet death with rapturous delight; others enjoy a settled composure in their last moments; while in some hope and fear alternately prevail. And though we may in some instances trace up this varying state of feeling, as death approaches, to physical causes; yet should we not contemplate the sovereignty of God, who gives what portion of consolation he pleases?

"Yes, Sir; I think the sovereignty of God is as conspicuous in the valley of death, as in the temple of grace: yet the Scriptures lead us to believe that there is an ordained and a natural connexion between an eminently holy life, and an eminently peaceful decease. Hence the Apostle, after enforcing on his readers the cultivation of the graces of the christian character, concludes by saying, 'Wherefore the rather, brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election sure: for if ye do these things, ye shall never fall: for so an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' 2 Peter i. 10, 11. I have a sermon which has been recently published, by a bright ornament* of the visible church; from which I will read an extract which breathes truth in pure and elegant language. 'The confidence of the people of God generally increases as death approaches. Hence Isaiah compares their peace to a river: for, as a river rolls deeper and

Rev. Mr. Jay's Sermon for the late Mrs. Berry, of Warminster.

wider as it hastens to the sea; so their peace commonly becomes more solid and more extensive as they draw near eternity. In this view the change which Dr. Goodwin experienced was remarkable. Is this dying?' exclaimed he, a little before he expired. Is this what, for so many years, I have been dreading? Oh! how precious does the righteousness of the Saviour now appear!-He cannot love me better than he does; and I think I cannot love him better than I do.' This is not a solitary instance. How many have we ourselves seen who wept upon the mountains of Zion, but rejoiced in the valley of the shadow of death; whose harps, long before hung upon the willows, were taken down, and delightfully used in singing the Lord's song in the most strange part of all the strange land! We cannot always account for things as effects, which yet we are compelled by observation and testimony to admit as facts. But the case before us sufficiently explains itself. The love of life having, from the will of God, no longer now any purposes to answer, is suffered to die away. By drawing near the better country, we feel something of its influence, as the perfumes of Arabia the Happy are blown into the neighbouring provinces. Above all, there is now more of the simplicity of faith. During life some degree of legality attaches to all our performances. Doing continually intermingles with believing; and often, insensibly to ourselves, we are anxious to make ourselves better, to entitle us to the divine favour, or to find something. in ourselves wherein to hope, if not, whereof to glory before God. But all this is now over. What can the believer do when dying? What qualifications can he then acquire? What attainments can he then propose? 'Let him look back upon a well spent life.' This is impossible. Every review which he takes of himself is humbling. The very sins of his holy duties would drive him to despair. One resource remains,-one, only one, which is always equal to our relief,-one, whose consolation is only hindered from flowing in to us by the want of simplicity of mind; it is looking, by faith, to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world; it is to commit implicitly the soul to him. He, is able also to save them to the uttermost that

come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them." Heb. vii. 25,

"I am fond," said Mr. Lewellin, "of visiting the sick, and the dying. When with them, I feel the truth of religion. The terror which seizes on the spirits of an infidel in his last moments, and the rapture which glows in the breast of the expiring Christian, equally attest its supreme excellence. I have seen the unbeliever tremble, as the footsteps of death have been heard; his face has turned pale through fear, or it has been shaded by despair. I have heard him utter the most piercing cries; send forth sighs and groans, the speechless messengers of woe; reproach himself in the strongest language for his folly, and his guilt, in having passed through life an enemy to the faith of Christ; and I have seen him expire in unutterable anguish. I have also seen the believer, calm, elevated, and enraptured. I have heard the music of his soul becoming more soft and enchanting as the vital spirit has languished in his frame. I have listened with pleasure, while he has given utterance to his holy feelings, and blissful anticipations; but I have never heard one express any regret for his attachment to the doctrines of the Gospel. I have never known one willing to renounce his faith, or give up his hope, in prospect of death." "Nor I," said Mr. Ingleby," and this circumstance is a strong presumptive evidence in favour of the adaptation of the gospel to our moral condition. Infidelity may contemn the faith of Christ, and hold up its friends to scorn; but she is faithless; for when her disciples want her presence in their last hours, she generally leaves them as victims, whom she has fitted for destruction; that she may return among the gay and the dissipated, to prepare them also for the pangs of the second death."

It was late before we left the Rectory, and in passing by the cottage which had that day cast out its dead, we saw a light in the room, and on knocking at the door, we gained admittance. "Well, Robert," said Mr. Stevens, "you are not yet gone to bed." Sir," he replied; "if I go to bed, I don't think that I shall go to sleep. I thought when my wife lay so ill, and suffered so much, that I should be willing to give

"No,

her up to the Lord, if he would take her; but now she is gone, I feel my loss.-No man can tell what death is, till it comes. I love to think of her, for she was a good wife, and a good mother; and I should like to talk to her; but now, if I go into the room, I find that I am alone; and this chills my heart. My boy tries to comfort me, but, poor fellow, he wants a comforter as well as I; for he loved his mother." "But God," observed Mr. Lewellin, can support you under your trial; for he has said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.'" "Oh yes," replied Robert, "he does support me, and has given me a spirit of resignation to his holy will; but, Sir, nature can't help feeling." "But," said Mr. Stevens, "I do not suppose you would recal her from heaven, even if you were permitted." "Why, Sir, it gives me pleasure to think that, while I am mourning here below, she is enjoying the felicity of the heavenly state; but if I were permitted to recall her, I am sure that I should be tempted to do it; for she always tried to make me happy. But she is gone, never more to return. In looking into her drawer, since we came back from the funeral, I found these papers, which I have just been reading."

I looked over them, and having transcribed a copy of one, I will insert it. It was dated three months before her decease.

"I have just been favoured with a singular manifestation of the loving-kindness of my Saviour. He has taken away the guilt of all my sins. He has removed all my doubts. He has given me peace, and has enabled me to resign my husband and child to his care. He will soon take me to himself. As I have felt at times great depression, and may in my last moments be unable to speak of his doings; I now record in writing what will not be seen, till after I have seen him. I die a guilty and worthless sinner, depending on his death for salvation; and can say, that I die in full and certain hope of a joyful resurrection. to eternal life. Signed, Sarah Allen."

"Dear Widowed Husband: 1

"Before you see this, I shall have passed through the valley, and joined the redeemed above. While you are weeping, I shall be rejoicing; yet, if the spirits of the glorified are suffered to visit their earthly friends, I will often come and hover over you, and the dear motherless child. Follow me, as far as I followed Christ. Farewell, till we meet in glory. Yours for ever." Stereotyped by J. HADDON, and Printed by J. S. HUGHES, 66, Paternoster Rew.

[No. 17.

"When somewhat composed, she opened her Bible, and the following passage struck her eye." (Vide Matthew x. 32-36.) "The remarks of her favourite commentator (whose volume was laying before her on the table) gave her great pleasure; and she felt that it was her duty to act consistently with her religious principles, though she might incur the displeasure of her parents." Page 10.

London: