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night, she said, "Oh! my dear mamma, what would I not have given to have had you to talk and read to me last night. I could not sleep; and I could not remember my hymns perfectly." Her mother read to her a chapter in the Bible, after which she asked her to read her favourite psalm-the twenty-third. Then she observed, "The believer has no need to fear death, for it is called a shadow, (Ps. xxiii. 4,) and compared to a sleep, (1 Cor. xv. 51, 1 Thess. iv. 13, 14.) Oh! I have no wish to live. I feel quite resigned to the Lord's will, and willing to wait his time. But I hope that he will enable me to bear my affliction patiently." She said, Do you remember, mamma, a letter which Mrs. Lwrote to you after Eliza's death?" She referred to that part in which a friend had remarked, "The idols he will utterly abolish." "No doubt, mamma," said Nelly, "dear Eliza was an idol." "And I fear also you have been one my, dear," replied her mother. " Yes, mamma," she said, "perhaps I have; but Jesus has said he will have a whole heart." She would frequently say, "I have no desire to live, mamma;" adding, “Here perfect bliss can ne'er be found." On inquiring concerning the state of her mind, she invariably replied, "Quite happy! Not one doubt have I had since that Sunday."
On the Sunday before her death, she called her brother William to her bed-side, and said, "My dear William, do not grieve for me, but beg of the Lord to render my death a blessing to you. And if you ask in faith, you shall receive." At another time she said to me, "I dare say, dear mamma, you think it strange that I should not say something to Fanny; but, mamma, it was Fanny who first led me to my knees." In this peaceful frame of mind she continued till half-past five o'clock on the morning of Friday the 26th of April, when her happy spirit joined those of her dear sisters in heaven.
QUESTION XII.-Ungodly Relatives.
(To the Editor of the Youths' Magazine.)
SIR,-I should not have addressed this letter to you, had I not seen that others have recourse to the pages of your magazine, for information on subjects which cause them perplexity. It may be necessary, that I should first say what is my present position. By the mercy of God, I have been for some time awakened to the importance of caring for salvation. I have a firm reliance on the merits of my Saviour's atonement, and, I believe I am sincere, in saying, that to do the will of God is my first wish. But it is in reducing this wish to practice, that my
difficulties arise. 1 am dependent, not on parents, but on relatives, who have not the same interest in my happiness that parents would probably take. The relatives, of whom I speak, are worldly-minded persons, with little serious thought of the future; they really would not understand me, as I have too often found, were I to attempt to speak as I really feel on religious subjects; they are not persons who will bear contradiction or being reasoned with, and as I have no claim upon their kindness, I am bound to do all I can to conciliate them in return for the support I receive. Of course, being in this position, I am obliged I have no constantly to participate in what is very painful to me. opportunity of consulting religious persons on their opinions and practice, as we do not visit any on whom I feel I can rely. I have therefore no means of acquiring information.
As I am often much perplexed with regard to the proper line of conduct under such circumstances, I shall feel grateful for your advice.
E. G. P.
MANY good people have said of laughter, "It is mad;" but they have not been aware that melancholy is often madness. gloomy, drooping spirit is unscriptural, and the greatest repellent in religious exercises. Many have been disheartened by it; the enemy has made use of this with great success to frighten others, and to represent religion as odious. No man has a constant source of joy but the true Christian; he only has a ground on which he may "rejoice evermore."--Cecil.
GOING TO MOVE.
A CHRISTIAN does not turn his back upon the fine things of this world, because he has no natural capacity to enjoy them-no taste for them; but because the Holy Spirit has shewn him greater and better things. He wants flowers that will never fade; he wants something that a man can take with him to another world. He is like a man who has had notice to quit his house, and having secured a new one, he is no more anxious to repair, much less, to embellish and beautify, the old one; his thoughts are upon the removal. If you hear him converse, it is upon the house to which he is going-thither he sends his goods; and thus he declares plainly what he is seeking.-Cecil.
LINES WRITTEN IN SPRING, 1842.
WELCOME again to me art thou, sweet spring!
Mild airs, blue skies, and every lovely thing.
And thou hast gemmed my path again with flowers,
Then chased the clouds, and given bright sunny hours.
Waking low melodies,
As it has spread their light leaves to the breeze.
Each little heart with thy warm spirit stirr'd.
And o'er the fragrant flowers the "busy bee"
Gathering their luscious stores with earnest glee;
In the bright sunshine making holiday.
And from her lowly nest the lark upsprings,
While with her thrilling song the blue air rings;
Forgetful of stern winter's frozen sway.
And I have deemed, that on this beauteous earth,
So full have all things seemed of love and mirth.
How oft is joy's excess with sadness fraught?
And tho' the lovely lines of nature's face,
Be drawn with fairest grace,
Yet man, of evil, there oft leaves the trace. 'Tis only in a purer world than this,
Joy without sorrow is,
And where no sin, there only perfect bliss.
"THERE HE SPAKE WITH US."-(Hos. xii. 4.)
SPEAK to my heart, dear Saviour, speak,
Or I shall hear in vain ;
If yet the call has proved too weak,
How many years have passed away,
Since first that call I heard-
The teachings of thy word.
The youngest of the rising race,
But life, with some of us, apace
Speak to us then, dear Saviour, speak!
Nor let the call be vain;
May all who hear thy mercy, seek,
And all who seek, obtain.
TOM TIDLER'S GROUND.
THE sports of childhood's roseate dawn
Have passed from our hearts like the dew-gems from morn;
And are deaf to the hail of a "whoop and a call."
But there's one old game that we all keep up,
When we've drunk much deeper from life's mixed cup;
We see an old man with his hair all grey
But he is awake o'er his column of debts;
The poet goes wandering every where,
But the chance is a strange one that carries him there;
Though the chains be of gold and silver.”
He may rest for a time, but he thinks full soon
In pursuit of his friend, the murmuring bee.
There's the lark over head and the brook at his feet;
But we find no record that tells us when
"Take no heed of to-morrow" is ever the text,
If we mark what the preacher is doing the while;
Though holding enough, he is longing for more;
Faith zealously points out a kingdom to come,
Where all joy shall be known, where the poor shall be blest,
Where all burthens shall fall, and the weary have rest.