posed, he was calmly happy. A young friend asked him if he felt willing to die. "Yes," he replied: "to depart and be with Christ is far better." "Do you wish to live?" it was then asked. He answered, "Sometimes I think I should like to live to help my father; but I leave it all to God. His will be done." The same friend added, "You now know what religion is." He smiled, and rejoined, "Tis religion that can give Sweetest comfort while we live: Solid His weakness prevented him from concluding the verse. He was kept in peace to the end. Some hours before he died, he said to his aunt, "Christ is precious ;" and soon after, with a clear and strong voice, "I shall go to heaven. Lord, receive me into thy kingdom. no more, and before midnight (May 7th, I shall I shall- 3. DIED, at Goole, in the Snaith Circuit, June 2d, 1841, MISS JANE WAKE, daughter of Mr. James Wake, in her twentyfirst year. When young her health was very delicate; and at the age of seven she was visited by a distressing nervous affliction, from the effects of which she never fully recovered. Her feelings were often governed by the state of her health, Thoughtful when influenced by weakness and pain, she yet allowed her more serious reflections to pass away with returning health. Not that she forgot them entirely; but she did not give them that decided and practical effect to which they tended. When twelve years old she became a Teacher in the Wesleyan Sabbath-school; a labour of love in which she always took great delight, and to which she attended with great diligence. In November, 1835, her indecision came to an end. Under the ministry of the word, which she never neglected, she was deeply convinced of sin. She felt as well as saw her need of a Saviour; and for salvation for herself she now most earnestly prayed. She began immediately to meet in class, resolving to seek the Lord in all his ordinances, and to seek till she found. And she did find. One Sabbath evening, at a meeting for prayer, she was enabled to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and was filled with all joy and peace, so that henceforward she went on her way rejoicing. Her character had always been moral, and so far as not only the outward form, but an inward respect also, are concerned, religious: it now became spiritual. She had been evidently made a partaker of a new and divine life, and her conduct exhibited its fruits. Early in 1841, it pleased God that she should pass through a course of painful suffering, only terminating in the house appointed for all living. The usual hopes were entertained by her friends, and all that affection could prompt, or medical skill devise, to keep her among those who loved her so well, and whom she so tenderly loved, was done; but all was in vain, and towards the latter end of May it was evident that she was not far from the heavenly kingdom of God. Throughout the progress of the disease, her trust was in her Saviour, and her experience was expressed in few, but very significant, words: "Christ is precious." On being told that her friends had been obliged to give up their hopes of her recovery, she desired them at once to pray for her, that she might receive what they had said as an intimation of the will of God concerning her. They did so; and she joined earnestly with them, and said at the close, "I am happy; all is right." From this time, Satan seemed beat down under her feet, and her hope was blooming, and full of immortality. She was very weak, and not able to say much; but her mind was more than peaceful, it was delightfully happy; and occasionally, she would express her joyful hope by repeating verses of hymns which she had often sang in the public worship of God, and which now aided in cheering her as she moved along the valley and shadow of death. To the servant, on her entering the room once, she said, "I am going to glory: mind and meet me there." Towards the close, she said, "I have gained the victory. Christ died for me. Yes, his blood was shed for me.' These were almost her last words. Christ had been the joy in life, and he was her hope in death. From the many excellencies of her character, her friends had looked forward with pleasing anticipation to her future life. But He who had given, took her away. And while they mourn her death, they rejoice to know that she died to live for ever. JOHN H. BEECH. POETRY. THE HINDOO WIDOW AT THE FUNERAL PILE OF HER HUSBAND. "She spake as such may speak, who thus would join the dead.” Not yet! not yet! the purple morn is bursting, When vesper airs, and vesper songs are sighing, And glancing fire-flies with the stars are vying; The burning stars flash'd out their piercing light, As through the dim woods it was fiercely sweeping; Victoriously from crag and ravine leaping: I was an exile from the haunts of men, They sought the life-blood of my spring-time years: Then farewell, earth! since he hath hence departed, ADELINE. ON THE DEATH OF A WEST INDIAN BOY, AT THE WESLEYAN PROPRIETARY SCHOOL.* HE came, in boyhood's joyous prime, Ere life's first flush was o'er, The nurseling of a fervid clime, To Europe's far-famed shore: He came from where each glowing Isle Reflects creation's tropic-smile; Where palms and cane-groves, in the West, Seem shooting out of ocean's breast. Land, where Philanthropy's embrace Land, which the Word of Truth has given His lot was cast, where many felt I saw him, when the deepest hue I saw him, as with proper pride, And oft I fancied I could see, How glad a meeting there would be, When youth, adorn'd with learning's charms, Blest his expecting parents' arms. Vain fancies these! his mother's eyes He dies, but in the glorious scope And though no broad palmettoes wave Roche, Printer, 25, Hoxton-square, London. X. |
