prophecy is often fulfilled: "At evening time it shall be light with thee." And it often is. It was so especially in the case of our dear departed sister. She could say, as the cold death sweats came over her dying face, "My beloved is mine, and I am his." Oh blessed state! oh happy posture! To be able to utter that in life's last hour is worthy of our highest ambition. Our sister died with extasy. But how much better can she utter it now! In what lofty and elevated strains can she now make her boast in the Lord! O could you draw aside the veil, but for a moment, that conceals the invisible, and take a glimpse of those glorified spirits!-Well, she is there. She died with a present assurance: she has now the full fruition. O that our last end may be like hers! O that we may be able to say, when our eyelids sink in death, "Jesus, the vision of thy face Hath overpowering charms: Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace, "Then when ye hear my heart-strings break, A mortal paleness on my cheek, IV. Personal appropriation.—This, too, is contained in the text: "My beloved is mine." And without personal appropriation there is no religion at all. From the days of Job to this hour, all who have believed through grace have been enabled more or less to use the personal appropriation. And what is religion worth to us, if we are not able to appropriate its blessings? Nothing. What is it to me that there is a Saviour, a covenant, a refuge, a blessing, a heritage, if I cannot call them mine? The whole thing turns upon this personal appropriation, and this is the case in common things as well as in sacred. The nobleman values his estate because he can say, "It is MINE." The mother values her child; for she can say, "It is mine." It is possible for me to admire an estate that is not mine; but I cannot enjoy it, because it is not mine. But the Christian who has present assurance can exercise personal appropriation. He can say, "He is mine. Christ is mine. Salvation is mine. Heaven is mine. I have all and abound. I am blessed with all spiritual blessings.' I have the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. I have grace to enjoy here, and glory to realize there. All he is, and all he has, belongs to me. espoused as a chaste virgin unto Christ, and all he has is mine. I have the earnest here, and the reversion there. I have the cross here, but I have the crown there. I am She And our departed sister, according to the grace given unto her, was able to use this personal appropriation. Her faith was in lively exercise. staggered not at the promise through unbelief. She could read her title clearly. She stood on Pisgah : she drank of "the springs of Pisgah." The Lord graciously shone upon the last steps of her pathway. When she stood in the plains of Moab, she could look beyond. She was blest with clear vision, and the day of her death was the dawn of her immortality. It was a morning without clouds, and the azure of eternity was before her view, and she was ready to depart. Grace made her what she was, and by grace she entered glory. Now she is made higher than the angels. Yes. "Nearest the throne, and next in song, Man shall his hallelujahs raise, And now, my dear bereaved brother, what shall I say to you? Your loss is great,-how great, must be known only to yourself. not an accident. It is a providence. Yes, it is. very, very mysterious; and it would ill become But that loss you know is To you and to us it may be me or you to say, "Why, Lord?" May I venture to say, in fidelity to you, "It is well." You will not consider me defective in sympathy, if I say so. I do condole with you in the sympathy of a brother's heart, and I commend to you those sublime words of Watts, "Not Gabriel asks the reason why, My dear brother, may the Lord be with you, and enable you to say, with as much feeling as truth, "It is the Lord's hand," She rests: let that suffice. The hand of affection may raise the monument and inscribe the elegy, and the hand of superstition lay on the "immortelle,"-But she rests. The Lord give you wisdom, and patience, and affection to be a mother to your motherless children. My dear children,-my dear, motherless children,-Oh how great your loss ! What can I say to you? How can I speak? Your loss is great. Oh how great! You have lost a mother, a pious mother, a mother that loved you. She is now no more: she is gone to the realms of the blest. She has prayed for you. O that those prayers may be heard, and that you, my dear, motherless children, may follow her! Remember, Jesus was her refuge. O that He may be yours! He is the only refuge. Dear friends, to each and all of us here is a voice of warning. "Be ye also ready." O that we may be ready at the hour of our departure, and have an abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. Page for the Young. LITTLE JANE. TIME works many changes both on the aged and the young; some of them are forced upon us, and others are of our own choice. Alas! even the wisest of people do not always chose the best thing, and there is one particular in which the young are specially prone to make a mistake—that is in the choice of companions. We must have associates, it is not good to be alone; but we should be very careful in selecting our companions, and more especially if the connexion is to be close, and if it be for life we surely cannot be too particular, for there are many things to be considered besides mere appearance. We hope the case of Jane Routledge will be a warning to all our young female readers who need it. She had a pretty face, handsome figure, winning manners, and was unsuspecting and affectionate. Just the girl to be taken in by "a handsome scamp." Unhappily there are many such men, and one of them happened to find his way to the Cedars. The family were from home and some of the servants were left in charge of the house while it underwent a thorough cleansing. Painters, paperhangers, and carpenters were sent by a tradesman from the town, and John Jynkins was one of them. He was really a fine looking young man and a good workman when he had a mind. Jane had to direct his attention to the several windows that wanted new sash-cords, &c. &c., and so they were thrown a good deal together. Indeed, Jynkins often made enquiries where they were not needed, for a purpose that Jenny quite understood. And although she truthfully denied the charge of "setting her cap at the carpenter," he was most effectually stealing her heart, and he was from this time observed at the little chapel of which Jane was a member. His character was well known in the village as a lazy, drinking, goodfor-nothing fellow-a companion of the lowest and most degraded in the neighbouring town. Hence all Jane's friends deeply regretted that he had succeeded in gaining her affections, and none more so than her pastor, who talked to her very lovingly on the subject, pointing out the unhappy consequences which he had often seen to arise from such marriages as he feared she comtemplated. Poor Jenny! she seemed both deaf and blind. True, after one of her minister's most solemn warnings, she went home and cried, and wished she had never seen John Jynkins, and vowed she would give him up, but then the next time they met, all such feelings vanished. Having her heart, he led her captive at his will. One morning Mrs. Parker rang the bell for Jane, paid her wages, and said with a smile, that she should have a pound more next year. The housemaid thanked her, and, blushing said, "Please, ma'am, I wish to leave in a month." "Wish to leave!" exclaimed Mrs. Parker. "What for? What's the matter now? Upon my word it is enough to drive one mad. I took you quite a child and have got you into all my ways, and was only this morning saying to your master how comfortably we were suited with servants, and he told me to give you a pound more for encouragement, and now you're off." And here they both had a good cry. Their tears over, Mrs. Parker demanded the reason why the notice had been given, when Jenny blushed up to her eyes, and said, "I'm going" and paused. "You are going to be married, I suppose," said the lady. "Yes, ma'am." "Who too, may I ask?" "John Jynkins, ma'am." "What, that carpenter! Ah! he's a handsome scamp. If you have that man he will be the death of you-he will either break your head or your heart, or may be both; his father is coachman with friends of ours, they put him to learn his trade, and had he been steady they would have made a man of him, but, oh, Jane don't have him, I tell you he is a thorough scamp." It was all of no use. Jane, poor girl, thought everybody too hard upon him; he had gone regularly with her to chapel, and promised to continue, and she believed her influence over him would be such as to keep him from all his old companions and habits; indeed, he had solemnly promised that as soon as they were married he would, to use his own words, cut the lot of them." So in five weeks, after Jane took the wages referred to, they were married. 66 Silly girl! To avoid the remarks of friends whom she knew were opposed, she consented to be married on the sly, wounding the minds of many who felt a real interest in her, besides departing from her principles as a Dissenter by being married at church. It is a sad pity, after the long and hardly-fought battle we Dissenters had to get our rights, that so many of our young people should not avail themselves of those rights. Baptists in particular are inconsistent if they go to the Established Church to be married, now that it can be done in their own places of worship. However, Jane was married just a week after she left her situation. She told her mother in the morning that she was going to town and might not be home that night. She met Jynkins and her two cousins at the church, where the fatal knot was tied. They spent the night at her aunt's, who was not a very respectable person, and about the only relative who approved of the match, and Jenny returned to her parents the next day. What followed we will tell you if you will wait another month. OLD JONATHAN. (To be continued.) Gleanings. ANECDOTE OF DR. FRANKLIN. It is said of Dr. Franklin that, during his long residence in Paris, being invited to a party of the nobility, where most of the court and courtiers were present, he produced a great sensation by one of his bold movements, and gained great applause for its ingenuity. According to the custom of that age and country, the nobles, after the usual ceremonies of the evening were over, sat down to a free and promiscuous conversation. Christianity was then the great topic. The church was always ridiculed, and the Bible was treated with unsparing severity. Growing warmer and warmer in their sarcastic remarks, one great lord A man's besetting sin lies in that to which his nature is most inclined; and therefore, to walk wisely and holily, he should be very jealous of such supposed leadings in Providence as draw with his constitutional propensity. He is never safe, unless he is in the act of collaring his nature as a rebel, and forcing it into submission. A sanguine man sees a sign and token in every thing. In every commanded, for a moment, universal attention, by asserting in a round voice that the Bible was not only a piece of arrant deception, but totally void of literary merit. Although the entire company of Frenchmen nodded a hearty assent to the sentence, Franklin gave no signs of approval. Being at that time a court favourite, his companions could not bear even a tacit reproof from a man of his weight of influence. They all ap-ordinary occurrence his imagination hears pealed to him for his opinion. Franklin, in one of his peculiar ways, replied that he was hardly prepared to give them a suitable answer, as his mind had been running on the merits of a new book, of rare excellence, which he had just fallen in with at one of the book-stores; and as they had been pleased to make allusion to the literary character of the Bible, perhaps it might interest them to compare with that old volume the merits of his new prize. If so, he would read them a short section. All were eager to have the Doctor read a portion of his rare book. In a very grave and sincere manner, he took an old book from his coat-pocket, and with propriety of utterance read to them a poem. a call. His pious fancy is the source and food of an eager disquietude and restless habit of mind. An enterprising man has great facility in finding God in whatever seems to open to honour, or influence, or power. But he has lost the right estimate of things. If God seem to draw with an enterprising mind, the man should stand and tremble. Providence may really lead some retired and humble men into situations which the ambitious man would covet; but, even in that case, it is not to be regarded as an evidence of favour, so much as an increase of trial and responsibility; but he can never open before an enterprising and ambitious character, unless in judgment, or in such imminence of trial as should call the man to self-suspicion and humility. A pleasurable man easily discerns God's hand in every thing which seems to put his favourite indulgences within his power: such a thing was a great providence, and he is vastly grateful! while he sees not that he is led away to broken cisterns. An idle man has a constant tendency to torpidity. He has adopted the Indian maxim, that it is better to walk than to run, and better to stand than to walk, and better to sit than to stand, and better to lie than to sit. He hugs himself in the notion that God calls him to be quiet; that he is not made for bustling and noise; that such and such a thing plainly shows him he ought to retire and sit still. A busy man is never at rest. He sees himself called so often into action that he digs too much to suffer anything to grow, and waters so profusely that he drowns. The danger in all these cases is, lest a man should bless himself in his SNARES.-Cecil. Loetry. THE COMMUNINGS OF CHRIST AND HIS CHURCH: A Poetic Paraphrase, and an occasional Commentary upon the Book of Canticles. No. XVII. BY J. W. Cole, Braunston. Verse 6.-" Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh, and frankincense, with all powders of the merchants?" WHO's this that comes from the wilderness, Bearing the impress of gentleness, The world's wild desert behind her lies, The baubles of earth her chastely eyes, Love's sacred fires enkindled are, Within her breast; Their pillars of smoke are seen afar, As upward their lambent flames arise, Lifteth her spirit towards the skies,— A brightly "burning and shining light," Through calm and storm, through day and night, To Him she loves. Who thus from the wilderness doth come, 'Tis the Lamb's fair wife, the ransom'd one, For whom Christ died. Verses 7, 8.-Behold his bed, which is Solomon's; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel. They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night.' A GREATER than King Solomon is here! The regal son of David's ancient time, Rom. viii. 38, 39. † John xiv. 2, 3. ‡ Rev. xxi. 9. The "root and offspring "s of King David too; "Offspring," as issuing from King David's loins, "Root," inasmuch as he was David's Lord. Wisdom and riches, power and peace are his, Beyond what Lemuel, in his day possessed. The bed, on which the King of kings reclines, IS THE AFFECTION OF HIS BLOOD-BOUGHT CHURCH. When from his fevered lips the anguish'd cry, For the pure faith, once given to the saints.¶ They keep outside the chambers of the King; Hell's hosts, that gather round her soul to vex. THE APPROACH OF DEATH. WHEN I reflect on death, that king of dread, Who marches on with slow and measured tread, And every day approaches still more near, However distant he may yet appear:When I behold the monster's hideous jaws, And know that sin has been the direful cause Of his existence-once to man unknown, But holding now a universal throne:When I reflect that life's uncertain road, Which, day by day, and year by year, I've trod, Leads on so surely to the gate of death, That since I breathe, I must resign my breath:§ Rev. xxii. 16. Isa. liii. 11. ¶ Jude 3. |