her mind, and repeated, with deep and evident feeling "His flowers!"

I said, "I hear that there is another messenger come to tell you that you are near your home." She smiled faintly and assented, adding, as she had done before, "I am willing to wait his time." "Does any doubt or fear," I inquired, "trouble you now in the prospect of the end?" "No, none," was the whispered answer; "I have peace." "Is there any word of God in which you find especial comfort?" She began to quote a text, but her voice failed; after a short pause, she whispered, "He will send the Comforter." I said a few words of the Saviour's promised presence to the end, and then took leave of her as for the last time, for she was evidently too weak to bear more conversation. I had, indeed, only been able to catch the preceding answers by putting my head close to her.

She held my hand for a minute or two, thanking me earnestly for my visit; and I said, "It seems scarcely likely that you will be here to-morrow, but I will come and see." She thanked me again, and said very calmly, "If not, we shall meet again," and so we parted.

These were almost the last words she spoke. She slept till about three o'clock the following morning, and then had an interval of intense suffering, followed by stupor throughout the day. I went to see her, as I had promised; but she was quite insensible, and about nine o'clock that evening her happy spirit was released from the suffering body, and she entered into rest.

Very deep and solemn was the impression which the events of that week left upon my mind. We read of peaceful death beds, and we feel that, to one who trusts in Jesus, death can and ought to have no sting; but the sight of such a closing scene as this brings new and triumphant corroboration of the truth. In our days of health and strength, and when the sunshine of God's countenance is beaming over us, we may feel, and profess to feel, no fear of death, but the answer comes readily to an unbeliever's lips, and may even be presented to our own coward hearts, "It is all very well, now, but how will this trust hold out when you

come, perhaps after long and depressing sickness, face to face with death and with eternity?" Here was a con. vincing reply,-a great and triumphant fact. Amidst extraordinary and protracted suffering, the religion of Jesus was sufficient to keep this poor girl's mind in perfect peace, to enable her to make that mysterious and fearful passage | which no philosophy could ever smooth or brighten, without even a momentary cloud of fear. By the grace of God she had embraced it before the time of the trial came, and in that hour she found it all-sufficient.

Reader, the time is coming when all earthly props shall fail you; have you an interest in this Jesus and his great salvation ?-Tract Magazine.

THE TWO BROTHERS.

"Death and disease around us fly,
Children, and friends, and parents die;
The aged and the young depart,

And loneliness usurps the heart."

PIETY, as associated with any age, or exhibited under any circumstance, must ever be an object of intense interest to sanctified intelligence, but especially as seen in those who have devoted the morning of their existence to their Creator and Redeemer. To such examples of moral loveliness, the writer is no stranger, but seldom has he met with any more interesting than those furnished in the experience of the two brothers to whom he is now about to refer.

The elder, Stephen Thomas Vickers, was born at Gosforth, on the 11th of March, 1845. His younger brother Robert, was born at Berwick, on the 8th of April, 1848. Their parents were originally Wesleyans, but, after removing to Whitehaven, they connected themselves with the Wesleyan Association. Feeling the importance of bringing up their children for God, they often prayed with them and spoke to them about Divine things. Stephen and Robert were sent to the Catharine-street Sabbath

school, which they continued to attend until they were overtaken by the affliction which removed them to the kingdom of heaven. They were both strict Rechabites, refusing to drink anything which even resembled intoxicating liquor; but, better than even this, their hearts at a very early age received religious impressions.

Robert was very fond of going to the chapel, and to the Sabbath-school, and was very attentive to what the minister and his teacher said. Before he was six years of age he delighted to pray at the family altar; and, though to permit this generally in children of such tender years might be productive of great evil, to him it was a privilege and a blessing. In God's willingness and ability to teach the ignorant and assist the helpless, Robert had great confidence. On one occasion, when his sister complained that she felt it a great cross to speak in the class-meeting, he said, "Ask the Lord, and He will tell thee what to say." At another time, when speaking about David and Goliath, he exclaimed, “If I had God in my heart, I could go forth mightily in the Lord and slay Goliath, if I be but little Bobby." The period soon came when he had to contend with a foe far mightier, and more destructive than Goliath, and having "God in his heart," he won the victory. The disease which assailed him was scarlet fever, from which he suffered much; but amid all his sufferings he was resigned to the Lord's will. He often said he was "going to sweet Jesus." Addressing his anxious mother, he asked, "Was not I born a baby once?" She replied, "Yes;" and then he added, “But I am born again now!" A while before his death he prayed that the Lord would help his mother out of all her troubles; then, calling several members of the family together, he gave them his parting kiss, and shortly afterwards his young and happy spirit took its departure to that Saviour who has said, "Suffer little children to come unto me." He died May 30th, 1855, aged seven years.

Stephen Thomas, in many respects, resembled his brother Robert. He lived to attend the Sabbath-school, prayer-meetings, and preaching services. He delighted in

private prayer, and very frequently when his parents awoke in the morning, they found him kneeling at the bedside, pleading with his heavenly Father. Often on the Sabbath morning he would waken his mother to go with him to the seven o'clock prayer-meeting, which, not wishing to discourage him, she seldom, under any circumstances, declined doing. He was seized with scarlet fever about the same time as his brother, and when told that Robert was gone to heaven, he said, "I wish I was with him." This wish was soon gratified. The disease rapidly gained upon his suffering frame, but no murmurs escaped his lips. A few hours before his death, he shouted out with great energy, "I believe it! I believe it!" On his mother asking him what he believed, he responded, Glory! glory!" and ere long he departed, "to be with Christ, which is far better."

66

He died on the 4th of June, 1855, five days after his brother, and their bodies now slumber together in the same churchyard awaiting the glories of the resurrection "They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided.”

morn.

J. V.

PEACE.

FRIENDS of the Saviour, lovers of his laws,
Followers of Christ, promoters of his cause;
To you we now appeal for aid to attain,
The broader extent of his peaceful reign-
That wars and rumours may prevail no more,
But righteousness exalt each peopled shore ;
When tyranny and tyrants' course be run,
Scared by the glory of the Exalted one!

Spirit of Peace! thine influence now command,
That nations cease to meet in hostile band-
Strive not in arms for mastery-but aim,
To spread the Knowledge of the Saviour's claim.

Exalt his name to earth's remotest bound,
That "bond and free" rejoice beneath its sound—
For such effects will be produc'd I know,
Where'er the trumpet of our Lord shall blow;
For by-and-bye the converts, 'tis decreed,
The drops of dew in numbers shall exceed.
To speed these objects, oh, may we display,
That perfect peace, in all we do or say,
Bequeath'd by him, as legacy, to those,
By grace triumphant o'er their inbred foes-
"My peace I leave with you, such as the world,
"Can neither give nor take away," empearl'd
Within each contrite and devoted breast;
Fountain of joys that may not be express'd-
A gift so great, nor earth nor heav'n compare,
And yet so free, that all mankind may share-
Say is this peace a stranger to thy breast?
Or have you turn'd away the heav'nly guest ?—
Oh, why discard the message from above,
The glorious truth unfolds that "God is Love."
'Twill save you from the dread appalling share,
Of future horrors-wailings of despair:
Where darkness heightens conscience-stricken pains,
And guilt adds terror to the burning chains-
Be wise in time-think of the cold dark grave,
Where all are hastening-when too late to save.
And after Death the Judgment's awful bar
Where all to meet their doom assembled are;
And he who was in life our Advocate
Becomes at once the Arbiter of our fate.

And durst thou, standing on the awful brink
Of this Eternity, nor stop to think-
Where and which side shall I-even I-appear;
Am I now safe?—or have I cause to fear—
Oh! does the Book of Life record my name
Writ in the Blood of th' atoning Lamb?
Have I this peace? to assure my fond desire
A welcome from my Lord to come up higher-