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marked with surprise, how her influence would insensibly chase away anxiety and fatigue from the countenance, as the morning mist is dissipated by the smiling and gentle approach of the blessed light.

But the most pleasing recollections I have of this period are connected with the winter's evening. Many a time, when the course of daily duty has been run, when the world, with its noise and turmoil, has been shut out, when the frugal repast has been shared, has Martha wheeled back the table, and pressed us to form our chairs round the lively fire which she always took care to provide for us. This was her opportunity. In this magic circle there was no resisting her influence. She had often tried it, and as often found it successful. Frequently, in the consciousness of her power, as we settled down snugly in our seats, she would say, "There now we are happy;" assured that if we were not already so, we were in the way to be so. And if she could once see her assertion confirmed by her winning kindness, she herself was more than happy-happy in bestowing, happy in receiving.

disposed to return to those humble scenes which it had scorned. Then home is charming; and the tongue that knows no guile, and the heart that yearns with sympathy, and the thousand attentions and thousand decencies which flow through domestic life, all unpretending as they are, are sure to be rightly appreciated. Happy is he who, in such a state of mind, can still find in the mother, the wife, the sister, these real consolations! thrice happy he who, early taught to form a just estimate of happiness, has always drunk of these peaceful waters, and has only found their sweetness increased by the bitter draughts which a vain and insincere world has forced upon him!

CHAPTER XI.
DEVOTEDNESS. 1812-13.

No sooner had I accepted of a charge in London, than Martha determined on uniting herself to it; and on the 3d of January, 1812, she was admitted into my fold, and I became her pastor. The solemnity of the act, and the period of the year, caused her mind to revert, with peculiar seriousgiving herself again to the Lord, she gave herself to his people, desirous of continuing in the apostle's doctrine, in breaking of bread, in fellowship, and in prayers.

Conversation usually began with her, and always in the most easy, generally in the most playful man-ness, to her former exercises of dedication; and ner. When she had won attention, she had some anecdote to narrate, or some striking portion from an author to read, or some question to start, which had occurred to her in her day's pursuits. Frequently she would report to me her progress in the books she was studying; and this would often lead to discussions on their style or their subject. Whether these discussions were serious or sportive, she was always intent on making them interesting to her parents; and wherever the conversations commenced, they commonly ended in religion, an element in which we were all peculiarly at home.

If religion became the theme, it was not because the tone of conversation was sinking, but because it was rising above ordinary things. Religion did not depress our cheerfulness, it refined it. How often has the hour of "sweet domestic converse" been imperceptibly prolonged, when this has been our subject! How often has it been dwelt upon, till life's tumult was forgotten, or heard only murmuring in the distance; till, alive to our present state of pilgrimage, we greeted each other as citizens of a better country; till our hopes blended with our meditations, and our meditations were lost amid the harps, the joys, the society of that blessed world!

Then followed the evening hymn and the apostolic prayer--and the unanimous, fervent Amen. Then came the parting words, the kind wishes.Martha's heart always overflowed with them. The softness of her voice, the beaming of her eye, the gladness of her smile, the happiness of those hours, they are with me still-they will never depart!

Martha regarded this sacred connection, as not merely bestowing privileges, but as imposing obligations. She thought of herself as of the least of all saints; yet she considered that the least and the poorest was possessed of some one talent; and that there was the same proportionate responsibility resting on the application of one talent as of many. She was aware, too, that her situation brought with it peculiar claims. She was not only a voluntary member of a Christian church, which had a right to demand of each member a devotedness to the common prosperity; she was the relative of its minister; and if she was previously intrusted with the talents of example and influence, she felt that they were now increased in their weight and value ten-fold. She had been faithful over a few things; Providence now committed to her many; and it was her anxious desire so to keep and employ them as in the sight of her helper and her judge.

The instruction of the young first engaged Martha's attention; that labor of love in which she had always delighted. I was at this time organizing the Sabbath-school, and she became a most valuable assistant. She conferred with me on the arrangement of the female department; awakened feeling towards the object, as one of eminent importance; and proposed herself as a teacher. Her example was quickly emulated; and she became the centre of an excellent band of serious young persons, who were ready to communicate what they had freely received.

The feeling attached to these enjoyments, and he value set upon those domestic attentions which have been briefly illustrated in this chapter, may, Not so much from the whispers of prudence as by those occupying the earlier period of youth, be from her characteristic humility, Martha resolved considered somewhat overcharged. This, how-on taking the youngest class. To the interests of ever, is not the season in which they are generally secure of a just estimate. In the first heyday of youth, when the heart is hurried with the anticipation of novel enjoyment, when the illusions of hope rest on every object, and promise a day without clouds, a life without fear, and pleasures without end, happiness cannot be recognized in the simple guise, the retiring habits, and quiet tenor of domestic life. It is only as these spells are broken by the rod of experience, as disappointment treads in the footsteps of hope, as vexation mingles with pleasure, as the bleak winds of worldly adversity chill and depress the undue ardor of the spirit, that it is

this class she cheerfully devoted herself. She kept a list of the children who composed it, with their addresses; and if any of them were absent without reason, she visited them. She carefully put down any simple questions or remarks which occurred to her, as suited to the capacity of her little charge; and she made a selection of tracts and books for their perusal in the intervals of the Sabbath, which were lent to the children as rewards for attention and industry. In adopting such rewards, her eye was directed to the improvement of the parent through the child; and that she might be satisfied the means were adapted to the end, it was an esta

blished rule with her, not to lend any book which she had not read, and could not fully approve.

upon it. Martha soon perceived that the labors of the Sabbath, might be extended with advantage in Martha was uniformly desirous, in these exer- some portion of the week. She therefore originated cises, of preserving on her own mind, and of in- a working-school, which met on one afternoon in fusing into the minds of her children, the spirit of the week; and was to be composed of the poorer the day. She thought she had seen the Sabbath and elder children, as a reward for their regularity profaned, by giving too much of a secular charac- and attention. The design was, to employ them in ter to the instructions and manoeuvrings of the making simple articles of dress, some of which they school. She governed her conduct by the necessity were to enjoy, and the remainder were to be given to of the case. It was necessary that a child should the poor. While their fingers were thus engaged, an read, that it might become acquainted with the instructive book was read, or a conversation startScriptures; and to read, it was needful to spell.ed, which had a tendency to illustrate some duty of To these, therefore, she confined herself; and if more, belonging to the elements of general education, was to be taught, it must be on a day, and with associations, less sacred. Over those common lessons which conscience approved, Martha sought to spread a religious character. It neve: appeared to herself or her children that the principal end of their meeting was to read, or to spell, or to repeat: the acknowledged end which was pressed on the attention of the youngest was, to become acquainted with the holy Scriptures; to keep holy, by the service of the school, and the worship of the sanctuary, the Sabbath-day; and to anticipate, by prayer and hope, that better and happier life of which the Sabbath was both the emblem and the pledge. It has been for the want of such serious views, that many a child has learned to undervalue the Sabbath, in the very bosom of a Sunday-school; and that many a teacher has lost that sanctity of feeling, which once put him at a distance from worldly and daily pursuits.

To the eye of a visiter, Martha would seem to have been benefiting twelve or twenty poor children. This would more than have satisfied her for her exertions; but in reality she was blessing ten times that number. Her spirit diffused itself through the room. Her young companions in the good work copied her plans, and followed in her track. They would not be late when she was punctual to the minute; they would not be harsh when her manners were so affectionate; they would not be dilatory while they were admonished by her persevering assiduities. Such was the efficacy of her gentle influence, that they all speedily became as one hand and one heart. The school became conspicuous for its order and improvement; and it yielded those rich and pleasant fruits which, as a method of instructing the poor of the land, it is adapted to produce beyond any other imagined plan.

There are, undoubtedly, existing plans which have more of ostentation and of promise about them; and it is well if we are not dazzled by them. The trained and officer-like master, who marshals his five hundred children with a word, or, if he please, with a nod, is a much more imposing figure than the humble Sabbath-school teacher, almost concealed in the midst of the dozen children, which he is endeavoring to instruct; yet, on a close comparison, he may appear in better circumstances to answer the great purposes of education. In both cases a competent portion of knowledge may be given; but knowledge, although it is power, is a power in itself of dubious character. It may explode the whole fabric of civilized society; or it may consolidate, and heighten, and beautify it. To be a power as safe as it is great, it must be combined with principle. He who is the sole instructer of multitudes cannot hope, should he desire it, to effect this combination; while he who, in the centre of a few, with a serious mind, seeks to familiarize moral and religious truth to the consciences of his pupils, is making knowledge, valuable as it is, a secondary and subordinate thing to what is infinitely more valuable.

The field of benevolence enlarges as we advance

domestic life, or impress on the mind the importance of the life to come. The children discovered their relish for this exercise, by a most punctual and eager attendance; and the congregation so fully sympathized in the plan, that neither money nor materials were ever wanting; and, in the end, all the children composing this school appeared in a uniform exterior dress, the mixed fruit of their industry and Christian kindness.

This labor of love operated admirably beyond expectation. The working-school became a sort of honorary and beneficial appointment, to which the other children were aspiring by exertion and good behavior; while the senior children, who from time to time composed it, were brought into closer and more endearing contact with their steadiest and kindest instructers. It was this intimate and personal intercourse, which Martha always valued so greatly, as a means of promoting the ends of moral and religious education; and she was affectionately concerned to make the very best use of it. Frequently she would talk apart with the children, on their respective failings or duties; many of them she encouraged to write to her, that their minds might be improved, and that she might have an opportunity of imparting the most important lessons in a less perishable form; and most of them, in turn, were trained to the work of benevolence by attending her to the habitations of sickness or of poverty.

It was delightful to see her, when the duties of the school were closed, going forth with one or two of her pupils, like an angel of mercy, in search of wretchedness, which she night remove or mitigate. Her children always bore some article of clothing, which their own hands had formed, and which their own hands were to bestow, that the difficult lessons of charity, might be nourished by sympathy and established by habit. Happy was she if, in thus relieving existing distress, she could see the first young tear of generous compassion, glisten in the eye which had never before dwelt on want or sorrow, in which it was not concerned. And this happiness was often hers. Many a time, to me has she spoken of these instances of kindly sensibility, with correspondent feeling; and now her scholars, some of whom have risen to maturity, and are walking in the truth, speak of these visits as making, more than any thing, a deep and favorable impression on their hearts.

The circle of her charitable ministrations still expanded. Her connection with the Sabbath-school necessarily brought to her knowledge much of poverty and sickness; and her connection with me and the congregation, which, from being greatly identified with the port of London, is subject to trying and sudden reverses, gave her the opportunity of becoming acquainted with a yet greater proportion. The opportunity was well and gratefully employed. She was eager in ascertaining the existence of distress, and as forward in concerting measures for its relief.

The will is every thing. Martha had rather a fixed devotedness to the work of charity than ample means for its promotion; but it is surprising what

this accomplished. It gave her energy to strike upon a multitude of devices for advancing the ease, comfort, and friendships of the poor, the sick, and the dying, which would not have occurred to any mind little affected by the object; and it supplied her with confidence in drawing upon the resources of others to assist her in their execution. Frequently, when I have seen her involved in these services, or exhausted by them, I have been disposed to say, "How much can be done if we have the will to do it! How much is to be done without money, or at small expense! How little do they do who merely give money! Theirs is only a fine to the undeniable claims of charity-hers is the labor of love." The example that is insensibly exciting such reflections as these is as great a blessing to those who behold it as to those who are the direct objects of its compassionate exertions.

These solitary visits to the habitations of mourning were decidedly her favorites. She met with her own sex, met with them alone, met with them in the season of helplessness, of want, perhaps of desertion. There was no eye from which modesty night teach her to shrink; no restraint thrown on her intercourse; no fear of having occupied ground which others might possess to more advantage; nothing to feed vanity, to produce observation, or create embarrassment. She felt herself at liberty to confer with the individual as a fellow-pilgrim through the wilderness of this life to another; as subject to the same fears and foes, the same wants and weaknesses, the same hopes and destinies. She entered entirely by sympathy into the state of the sufferer; and all her sensibilities were alive to do, to say something that might lighten the burthens she had to bear, or smooth the path she had to tread, or brighten those coming scenes which, to most of our race, are overhung with ominous and impenetrable gloom.

ship nor afford to obtain from hired hands. Happily, for many years she had lived under the influence of religious sentiment, and it furnished her with her only consolation. But she was of a social nature, and had much delighted in the exercises of public worship; and now she was not merely deprived of these privileges, her very hold on the notice and regard of humanity seemed feeble and precarious. Day after day passed over her, with scarcely any interruption to her solitude. The idea of her loneliness preyed upon her: she might want, and languish, and die alone! Her spirit yearned for some kind hand to help her, some Christian * voice to cheer.

What she desired she found in Martha, and was satisfied. She was visited once, and commonly twice in the week, during the short residue of her life. Attentions were paid to her bodily comfort; and her mind was relieved by expressing itself to a friend on those hopes to which it was so earnestly clinging. Martha soon formed a strong affection for this excellent person. Her contentment in penury, her patience in tribulation, her serene confidence in the prospect of death, were lessons which she valued, and which she was anxious to lay to heart. Her visits became quite a thing of anticipation; and while conferring an invaluable good on the last days of an aged pilgrim, she felt herself to be rather receiving than bestowing benefit. I had heard so much of this good lady that I determined to visit her. I found her in a low, arched room, containing but few articles of furniture, which had nothing to commend them, except that they were clean and in their places. She herself was sitting on the skeleton of a bedstead, supported by pillows. She was evidently eighty years of age or upwards. Time had traced many a wrinkle on her countenance; but there was an expression of intelligence and good-nature shed over them. Her eye asked my name or my errand.

Reed?"

"Yes," I replied, glad to claim relationship with a name which excited such emotions, and amused at the quaintness of the expression, "I do belong to Miss Reed."

Even the act of blessing has its disappointments. Martha did not find all her efforts for the poor and "My name," I said, "is Reed." afflicted successful. Some were indifferent; some "What, sir!" she exclaimed, with a countenance were ungrateful; some were promising as the morn-glowing into pleasure, "do you belong to Miss ing dew, but as deceitful too. These dispositions would distress her, but they never impeded her in her ardent course of benevolence. Neither gratitude nor success was the standard of her duty. She had learned of Him who is kind to the evil and unthankful as well as the good and gentle. Unworthiness did not kindle her into anger; it melted her to pity. She looked on the subject of it as the more miserably diseased; and was under the greater concern to apply those remedies which alone can rectify the perverse mind, and heal the depraved heart.

"Sit down, sir-please to sit down." I took my seat beside her.

She was too happy for the moment to speak. "You seem,” said I, willing to prolong conversation on a name so dear to us both, "very partial to Miss Reed."

"I have reason to be, sir-I have reason. I was so lonely-I was, as David says, like a sparrow on the house-top; and it was fearful to think of having no one to care for one, let what would happen. But Providence sent Miss Reed to me, and she brought other friends; and she is so kind and so considerate, you know, sir. Now I want for nothing; I have, as St. Paul says, all, and abound, sir."

These instances, however, were exceptions from a general rule. Martha confidently relied on Him who has said, our labor shall not be in vain in the Lord, and the average of her success was beyond her expectations. Many a stubborn mind was softened by her kindliness, and many an ignorant one enlightened by her teachings. The withered heart was revived by the unction of her sympathy, and the deserted spirit comforted by the possession of her friendship. The orphan would clap his little nands for very gladness at sight of her; the widow's orn heart would sing for joy at her coming, and the blessing of those who were ready to perish came upon her. I am happy that my memory supplies me with one or two illustrations of the good which she did, and the gratitude with which it was received. Among the many persons visited by my sister was an aged female, who had seen better days. I looked on her with livelier interest. The happy She was now the inhabitant of a garret. She had contentment of her features confirmed the expres survived her relatives and connections, and was sion of her lips. On one side of her was a little confined to her bed by a chronic disease, which re- waiter, bearing a glass of toast and water, and a quired attentions she could neither find in friend- I cup of jelly; on the other side lay her well worn Bi

"Want for nothing!" I thought to myself. "Here is an individual who has outlived her husband, her children, her friends; who is feeble with age, and uneasy with pain; whose pain and weakness are the harbingers of a dissolution which cannot be long postponed; who has sunk from better circumstances to humblest poverty; whose whole property would not provide her body with a decent passage to the grave; who says she wants for nothing! This is indeed religion!"

ble. "Yes," thought I, "excellent woman, you are right; you have all, and abound. The warm hand of sympathy supplies you with little niceties for the bodily appetite, and the book of God is your titledeed to a rich and everlasting inheritance. What could the mightiest, the wealthiest, enjoy more in your situation? We must all come to this! Though the universe were our own, a draught of water, a little sweetmeat, or something as simple and as common, would be all we could derive from it!"

I had a pleasing conversation with her, the impression of which is still on my mind, though the particulars have escaped my memory. I commend ed her to the Divine keeping, in an act of worship, and rose to leave her.

66

She pressed my hand, and acknowledged my attention; And pray," said she, "give my best love to Miss Reed; I can never forget ner goodness: if I had a child of my own, she could not be kinder." I left her, delighted with reflecting what an advantage and assistance a young minister derived from possessing such a sister.

The remaining instance arose to our notice by a paper which was presented on the Lord's day, entreating the prayers of the congregation in behalf of a family under peculiar distress. On the ensuing day, some inquiries were made, which ascertained the residence of this family; and Martha went to obtain the particulars.

which had been made to him, and which had been broken; the cruelty of a creditor, who cut him off from an opportunity of making payment; the treachery of a professed friend, who would throw him out of a situation with the hope of getting in; the want of confidence in his wife, and the misery of his children-seemed to have alienated his mind from human sympathy, and to have rendered him an outcast from mankind.

I endeavored to meliorate his views, and assuage his feelings, by reminding him of what the afflicted are so apt to forget, that we must not judge unfavorably of all men from the unkindness and infidelity of a few, or even of many. He received the observation in silence. I thought if I could refer to particular instances it would more affect him.

I remarked, "You found many friends when you were in our neighborhood."

"Oh yes, sir," he replied, "many."

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And you remember the kind attention of a relative of mine to your family?"

"Miss Reed, sir! Miss Reed!" he exclaimed, with more animation and a quickened voice. "Oh yes, she was a friend indeed; I can never forget when first she came into our room; she was sent from heaven to save us!"

He became more free and composed. I endeavored to present him with the religious grounds of consolation which were adapted to his trying circumstances, and to direct his mind calmly to the means most likely to effect his liberation.

I left him, rejoicing afresh in that beloved relative whose very name seemed to charm away the demon of desperation from the heart of man, and to restore the alien to his inheritance in the sympathies and hopes of the great human family.

She found the family the tenants of one room, which was dirty and miserable. The mother was sitting over a few dying coals, with several young children about her, without heart, apparently, to make the best of her own situation or theirs. The father lay in bed, with despondency on his countenance, and a nervous fever preying on his blood. It appeared that he had been master of a merchant- But these recollections, pleasing as they are to vessel, but that, from the failure of the firm which me, will not of themselves do justice to the beneemployed him, he had lost his appointment. That, volence of Martha's character. Her affections were week after week, he had been applying for a fresh not localized; they were not influenced by place or appointment, and had failed in procuring one. party, by name or kindred, by color or clime. The That, in this interval, it had been necessary to dis-emotions of her heart, like the circles from the pose of almost every decent article of furniture and clothing, till they wanted even these expedients to procure their daily bread. That, at length, suspense, disappointment, and the approach of absolute want had overcome his spirits, and brought on his frame a debilitating and dangerous illness.

The family, at this time, were literally without bread, and incapable of seeking it. Martha took up their case with all the promptitude it demanded. She provided for the present calls of appetite; showed, through a considerable period, a thousand kind attentions, and succeeded in collecting a considerable sum, to assist the mother in commencing some little trade, while the father was seeking an engagement in his proper vocation.

But the difficulty of such an engagement was becoming greater; and the wife, instead of supporting her husband in his endeavors, fell into negligent and intemperate habits, and not only expended what had been charitably bestowed, but ran him into the embarrassments of debt. At last, however, he obtained an actual appointment to a vessel, and his prospects brightened. But an individual who had expected this nomination wreaked his disappointment on this innocent man, by inducing a creditor to arrest him for about twenty pounds, and he was thrown into the of the borough.

I heard of his imprisonment and went to see him. The poor man was almost desperate. He had looked to his appointment as the only means of redeeming himself and family from wretchedness, and now it appeared to be lost as soon as gained. The high charges for most miserable accommodations in this prison, by increasing his debt, made his escape every day more impossible; the promises

centre of a fountain, were strongest nearest home; but they expanded freely to the utmost boundary of human sympathy. Man was her neighbor, her brother, her father; she could not be indifferent to his welfare, though oceans rolled, or empires rose, between them.

She looked at man through those lights which Scripture supplies-as endowed with capacities by which he might rise to heaven, but as sinking down into sensuality, selfishness, and sin; as living without reliance on the Divine providence, or submission to the Divine authority; as the framer of his own wretchedness, and as contributing to the wretchedness of all around him; as shedding the influence of his crime over the fair face of earth, and the fairer aspect of heaven. She mingled her groans with those of "the whole creation," for the burthens and the bondage which sin has imposed; and she sincerely and deeply deplored the state of a world so full of the Creator's mercy, and so void of his praise!

Martha turned her eye from this heart-sickening sight, to dwell on the light and life of the gospel. She contemplated it as rising above the accidents of human character, and the various forms of social and artificial life, and as admirably adapted, by its unity and simplicity of principle, to make its way to the wants of man as man, whether the inhabitant of Christendom or Barbary, of Iceland or Hindostan. She dwelt often, and with sacred delight, on those prophecies and promises which are as highly poetical as they are strictly true and morally important, and which seem to pass over a slain world like the breath of the all-creating Spirit, for its renovation and recovery. In the visions of faith

and imagination, she sought to forget the present | Will oft be greeted by the welcome sound
disordered state of human existence while antici- Of Father! Father! O with what delight,
pating the glorious future. In the devout contem-In lowest attitude, will he present
plation of this predicted period she found every
thing to fill and gratify the mind; a period in which
friendship shall fear no treachery, kindness no in-
gratitude, simplicity no foe; a period which shall
be as free from tears as from wretchedness, and
from wretchedness as from sin; a period which
shall bring with it a day without night, joy without
alloy, and life without disease and without end.
Then shall the heavens rest in their own eternal
light and tranquillity, and the earth rejoice in their
favor. Then shall the wilderness blossom as the
rose, and the desert be as a land which the Lord
hath blessed. Then shall princes rule in righteous-
ness, and the people live in peace. Then shall
names and denominations become the mere land-Of Him you worship?-O remember Him!
marks of geography or the lights of history, and no
more designate the degrading antipathies of the
human heart. Then mankind shall become one
brotherhood; the world their one blest habitation;
and God, the living Jehovah, their guide, their pro-
tector, their father!

These children of the day to God and heaven,
And all that heaven contains. Ye holy men
Muse on this happiness, so pure, so high,
And be encouraged in your deeds of love!
Arise, ye sons of Albion, arise!
O be not prodigal of time! behold,
The day of your exertion closes fast,
And the still night advances. Myriads die
For lack of knowledge! Shall they thus expire,
Unwept, untaught, while you have pow'r to teach?
Shall they in anguish die ere you make known
The balm in Gilead—the Physician there?
Do ye then bear a Christian's hallow'd name,
And so forget to emulate the zeal

Feeding on these blessed hopes, Martha was eminently thankful that she lived in the present day, a day in which so many things are moving forward simultaneously to one grand event. Her spirit went entirely with those divinely originated societies which, if not the dawn of a millennial day, were the bright and morning star which foretold its brilliant and quick approach. She, therefore, did her utmost by prayer, by contribution, and by influence to support their noble exertions; and she reposed in the conviction that, earlier or later, by giving unity of aim and effort to the scattered energies of the good and godly, they would ultimately form one great moral power, which shall move and restore a fallen world to its lost orbit of light and glory. Perhaps, however, the following lines may be the best exposition of her feelings on this subject:

THE MISSIONARY.

Bless'd be the man whose heart, expanding wide
With love of human kind, and fired with zeal,
Caught from the sacred cross, forsakes for this
His native land, and all his soul holds dear!
Bless'd be that pilgrim! Wheresoe'er he goes,
The barren desert smiles; the savage heart
Is melted into tenderness and love.
The captive exile, bounding from his chain,
Exults in liberty, and pours his praise
In lowly homage to the King of heaven!
If aught I envy, it is not the crown
Bedeck'd with jewels on the monarch's brow;
'Tis not the laurel which the hero wears,
All steep'd in blood; nor, far surpassing these,
The meed of him who, by the midnight oil,
Explores the depths of science, searches out
Nature's unfathom'd mine, intent to gain
His country's honor, and increase her stores.
Ah! 'tis the feelings of that man I crave
Who spreads the triumphs of redeeming love:
Who listens to the heathen's melting song,
Himself the instrument of all their joy:
O happy man! already overpaid
For all his sacrifice, his care, his toil.
God, in the present life, vouchsafes him more
Than houses, lands, and friends, or all combined
And in the life to come he shall receive-
But how can words express, or heart conceive,
What Providence reserves for those bless'd souls
Whom it delights to honor! This we know—
He shall shine forth for ever as a star

Of no mean magnitude; and while he strays
Across the field of light, methinks his ear
Number 15.

He left the courts of bliss, the highest heav'n,
And condescended, for our sakes, to dwell
In humble clay! A pilgrim and unknown,
He was a man of sorrows, versed in grief,
A spectacle to angels and to men.
When did he shrink from trials? when complain?
See from the cradle to the cross he goes
A weary way, rejected, and alone.
No covert for his head, no want supplied-
No friend to share his sorrows! Like a lamb
Led forth to slaughter and to death he goes'
But to the last, and e'en when Justice pours
The tide of wrath on his devoted head-
E'en then, and for his enemies, he prays!

Well, if ye will not rise to tell his love
Sit still, and take your ease! But there will come
A time, not distant, when your hearts shall grieve
Because you went not up unto the help
Of the Most High! But ah, ye will arise!
I see ye going forth like to a host.
There is a shout within the camp! I hear
The Captain of salvation call you on,

And not in vain the summons! Mighty grace
Has won your hearts and fired them! Your whole life
Shall henceforth bear the signature of Heaven;
For Christ you live, and in his cause you die.
Peace, peace be with you! Holy men, go forth,
Strong in the Lord, rejoicing in his might.
O faint not, ye his husbandmen, who plant
The harden'd soil! The sun, the rain, are His!
He will command the blessing! When you lie
Forgotten in the dust, the seed will spring
Thirty, and sixty, and a hundred fold.
"Tis for the generations yet unborn
To bless your labors and repay the toil;

Your monument, their hearts-their lives, your praise!
God will himself be with you, even He,
Who speaks, and it is done! Yes, He will try
Your graces, to confirm them. You may feel
His searching hand within your very breasts;
The gourd in which you boast, he too may smite;
But his own love he will not take away;
Nor shall his promise fail; for he hath said,
The word of life shall not return again
Unbless'd by Him who sent it. He will work;
And who shall let? The kingdoms are the Lord's;
The universe his temple! Distant lands,
With one accord, shall celebrate his praise;
The Jew shall worship, and Messiah reign
The King of kings, the everlasting King.

CHAPTER XII.
DISCRETION. 1812-13.

"THERE are some members of a community," said the sagacious and witty Thomas Bradbury, "that are like a crumb in the throat; if they go the right way, they afford but little nourishment; but if

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