pleased with the notice taken of their children, and if the counsel be lost upon them, perhaps the parents receive it themselves. Indeed this has been the case already; the arrow which I aimed at the young, without totally missing them, has reached the hearts of others. Last Sunday morning, for instance, in preaching from "Fear not, little flock," I was telling the children how kind our dear Shepherd is ever to the lambs of his fold, and when I had done, two persons came and told me how much they had been comforted and strengthened in their souls, by that part of the sermon. One of them had come seven miles, and had intended to have gone elsewhere; but the Providence of God directed her to the Forest church, and gave her that comfort and joy, which she said she had long sought in vain. Another person, as I was informed by his wife, who had led a very careless and dissolute life, and who had often heard the terrors of the Lord with unconcern, and even with a kind of daring opposition, went home after the above discourse, gentle as a lamb, weeping contrite tears of godly sorrow, that he had been so ungrateful and rebellious to his Heavenly Shepherd, whose tender love and compassion he had heard set forth before him. I am very thankful for these and several particular instances of God's favor to this people. Indeed there seems to be a general-oh! that it may be a lasting—interest exited in their souls about salvation. The apparent thirst for hearing the word of God, and the profound attention paid, are such as I never witnessed. I augur good from this, because where there is a desire for grace excited, I hope, I believe, that that desire will be satisfied. You will excuse the egotism of this letter, but it was unavoidable, unless I had written on foreign subjects. Your affectionate friend and brother in Christ, ISAAC BRIDGMAN. Mr. Bridgman, for reasons of which we are not informed, seceded from the Church of England, and became in after life minister of St. John's Chapel, Walworth, Surrey, at which place he died in 1844, after a life of much usefulness, in the full assurance of faith. Though he suffered long and severely from the distressing nature of his illness, his end was eminently peace. These particulars are extracted from a small pamphlet issued by Jackson & Walford, entitled Miscellaneous Papers, published as an appendix to the Dying Experience of the late Rev. Isaac Bridgman, A.M." which with the former work here referred to, deserves the serious perusal of all who attach importance to the experience of those who have tasted of God's grace in Christ. POETRY. TRUST IN GOD. THOU art, O Lord, my only trust, When friends are mingled with the dust, When earth has nothing to bestow, And every flower is dead below, I look to Thee alone. Thou wilt not leave, in doubt and fear, The bosom friend may sleep below They will not always slumber there; And we may feel the bitter dart, 'Tis thou, O Lord, who shield'st my head, And, Oh, may soon that time arrive, Through all eternity. Percival. A PRESENT HELP. "The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him." Cambridge. "I would, but cannot pray," Pour thy rich blessings down, My God, Thou art! Teach me to feel the need Of Christ, who deigned to bleed, Let me not spurn his love, Thy Spirit from above Thy righteous wrath forbear, Be Thou in life and death, Shield me from every ill, Earth's storms are o'er; Oh, let thy still small voice, Check every vain desire, Kindle within a fire Of holy zeal ; Let me look up to thee 'Midst woe or weal. G. W. A. "Mother, I love you,"-earthly things Are fading from my sight, Their joys and sorrows all are past, Like bygone dreams of night; But, unforgotten still remain Your kindness and your care, Who shielded me through youth's gay hours, From many a fatal snare. "Mother, I love you!" He who died, Revered his parent too His latest glance was turned on her, Oh, how unlike my Saviour God, No mother from his brow wiped off The dews of agony— No cooling drink assuaged his thirst, But I, surrounded by my friends, Faith lights the darksome vale of death, God grant that we may meet On Canaan's blest and radiant shore, In bliss at Jesu's feet! Farnham. ANNIE WHIte. THE CHRISTIAN EXILE. (Written by the Rev. I. Bridgman, a few weeks before his last illness.) Where is that summer, with eternal sun? Where is the temple of Jehovah shining— There where the Seraphim and Cherubim, There is that summer and that temple shining, To realms of love, and joy, and endless light— |