He says, "During the short time she lived with us, she so much endeared herself, and so gained the affections of our dear children, by her consistent character and truly Christian deportment, that she gained the esteem of us all. Therefore, my dear Sir, we are able, truly and feelingly, to sympathise with you in your distress." So sincere

and ardent was the feeling of attachment of this gentleman and his family, that at his request I furnished him with the substance of this memorial sketch, for the purpose of being used by Dr. Alliott, President of Spring Hill College, and minister of Acock's-Green Chapel, in a sermon to improve her death.

As her life was an example, her death was admonitory. In less than two short weeks, her vigorous frame was prostrated by disease, and the work of death was done! Strong of intellect, her mind richly cultivated, her person pleasing, her manners attractive and winning, in her sweet early prime, with not a shadow on her prospects, and not a furrow of care on her brow, this dear young person, in the mystery of Providence, when apparentiy so likely for life, and so fitted to adorn any future station, was removed from earthly associations to another and higher scene. But I will not call it mystery! I would rather say, by the favour of her loving Lord, she was taken up to heaven to an early

crown!

Her death came in the least revolting form that could be conceived. On the first intimation of danger, her mamma and myself hastened to her. We reached South well early on Thursday morning, and from that time until her death, on Saturday, at twelve o'clock, we watched by her dying couch. We found her extremely ill, but perfectly conscious, recognising us with extreme pleasure, more thankful," as she said, than she could express, but unable to sustain continued conversation. The Rev. J. Conington, an excellent clergyman, whose ministry she attended, visited her on the day before

66

we arrived, and she had stated to him that she had no fear, that she was quite happy, that she had not a Saviour to seek, she knew Him, and He was very precious to her. Her disease now was inflammation of the chest, which had insidiously come on upon the original attack of bilious derangement. The attention of her medical adviser, Mr. Warwick, was most assiduous; and her bereaved friends are comforted at the thought that all that skill, most anxious care, and unwearied nursing could do, was put in requisition for her recovery. But so it seemed not good to our heavenly Father. But how gentle and easy her removal! There was no complaint-no murmur-not a single moan. When

asked, she said she had no pain; when questioned if she were happy, she responded, "quite happy." The only anxiety expressed was :-"My only concern is for you, papa and dear mamma." And when the last came, there was no convulsion; no dying agony; it was merely a stopping of the breathing, and life departed! "A gentle wafting to immortal life."

She was interred on the Monday following her death, in the burialground of the church where she had been accustomed to worship, and there, far away from her earthly home, her remains rest until the resurrection morning in the cold sepulchre.

"Asleep in Jesus, far from thee, Thy kindred and their graves may

be:

But thine is still a blessed sleep, From which none ever wakes to weep."

Young people, think of her early piety, and consecrate yourselves to God while young, Think of her beautiful example, and see what a lovely thing is real, earnest piety. Think of her early death, and ask yourselves if you are now prepared to die! Oh, may your last end be like hers!

MEMOIR OF MISS ELIZABETH

BILL, LEDBURY.

SIR,-I send you the following particulars respecting a late member of my congregation, which I hope may be gratifying to yourself, and pleasant and profitable to your numerous readers.

The subject of this brief sketch was born of respectable and pious parents. Her father is a deacon of the Independent church in this town. She was naturally of a meek, placid, and retiring disposition. Her constitution was rather delicate than otherwise. I should feel disposed to say, she was naturally consumptive. For more than twelve months previous to her death, she was frequently the subject of a violent cough, which naturally induced a fear she was not to be long a resident in this world. On the 21st of last September she was suddenly seized with inflammation on the lungs. This laid her on the bed of affliction, from which she never rose; and nine weeks afterwards, the 22nd of November, she terminated her earthly

course.

I now proceed to furnish an outline of her religious character and history.

Long before the affliction referred to, I believe she had been the subject of deep religious convictions and impressions. She had shown the greatest readiness to attend the house of God, and for a time assisted in the Sabbath school. About nine months ago, I conversed with her on the subject of joining the church, feeling great confidence she was a fit person for such an engagement. But from the humble views she had of herself, and her natural modesty and reserve, I could not at that time draw much from her, and so the matter was deferred. But no sooner was she laid upon the bed of affliction, in September last, than all that diffidence and reserve passed away, and she began to speak freely and openly of the things that belonged to her peace. My visits to her then began, and were continued daily, almost

without intermission, to the very last; and never, 66 so long as memory holds her seat," shall I forget the sacred and delightful hours I spent in that sick chamber. I could perceive at once, by the sweet smiles on her countenance, that those visits were always welcome. I had nothing to do but to begin and speak of Christ and the great salvation. Her ears and her heart were open to receive the joyful tidings of the Gospel. Never, so long as her strength would last, was she tired of listening to the theme of redemption through the blood of the cross. Frequently, after I had talked and prayed with her for an hour together, and was then about to depart, she would say to me, "Do stay a little longer, and tell me something more about Jesus." On one occasion she said, "What a wonderful thing it was that God should give His Son to die, and to endure so much suffering, for such unworthy, sinful creatures as we are!"

She sincerely rejoiced that

she had a suffering and an Almighty Saviour to look to. The cross of Christ was the only foundation of her hope, and the spring of all her comfort. At one of my visits she said to me, "How may I know that my sins are forgiven ?" I replied, "My dear girl, when God pardons a sinner, He always changes his heart, and when the heart is changed, there will be love to Jesus. Did you not tell me the other day that you loved Jesus ?" She promptly answered, "Oh, yes, I love Jesus, and every thing that relates to Him; His house, His Word, and His people." "Then," I said, you have in your own heart the best evidence that your sins are forgiven, that you are a child of God, and an heir of eternal glory."

I may go on to observe, that she was very fond of poetry, and had a considerable knowledge of the hymns sung in our places of worship, as well as the leading common-place passages of Scripture. Frequently, when I have been quoting these things to her, she would take the words out of my mouth, and repeat

them faster than I did myself. I ought distinctly to mention, she took a special interest in the exercise of prayer. She was not satisfied with my praying with her, but begged earnestly that I would pray for her. I observed, that the first few times I prayed by her bed-side, she would repeat the words after me; but she afterwards discontinued this practice; and I believe she found, that by remaining silent herself, she could better attend to the petitions that were offered on her behalf. During nearly the whole time of her affliction she enjoyed much spiritual peace and tranquillity; but one morning I found her in tears. I instantly said, "My dear Lizzie, what is the matter?" She replied, "I am troubled because I have not lived nearer to God, and done more for Him." I answered this by saying, "We have all much need for humiliation on that ground; but don't be cast down; look again to the cross of Jesus-to the blood that cleanseth from all sin." I believe she did so; for her tears were soon dried up, her former peace restored, and from that hour to the close of her earthly pilgrimage she lived in the enjoyment of her Saviour's smiles, rejoicing in the hope of the glory of God. At several different times, but especially toward the close, she broke out in an ecstacy of delight, exclaiming, "I am happy, I am happy.' Her very outward appearance bespoke the inward calmness and serenity of her mind. Besides being possessed of a sweet and amiable temper, she had a most engaging, attractive, and heavenly Countenance. This was observed, not only by myself, but by all who waited upon her, and who were privileged to visit her during her last sickness.

But I must not forget to mention another important and interesting feature in her character. When relatives and friends came around her, who were ignorant of God, and regardless of religion, she would urge upon them the importance of an immediate attention to the one thing

needful; and charged them in the most solemn manner to meet her in heaven. Oh, that they, and others, too, who may read these lines, may take heed to her warning voice, lest it should rise up to their condemnation at a future day.

We now approach the final scene of our departed young friend. During the last two or three weeks her sufferings were very great; but she bore them with exemplary fortitude and resignation. When they became extreme, she did pray that she might be released, if it were the will of God; and asked others to do the same for her; still earnestly desiring she might be enabled to endure with patience whatever He was pleased to lay upon her. In a few days these prayers were answered, and her immortal spirit transported to that world where sorrow and sighing shall flee away. A very short time before her departure, she exclaimed, "Peace, peace." She then made another effort to speak, and was heard to articulate the words, "My God, the" Her friends naturally thought she was going to repeat a part of Dr. Watts's beautiful hymn"My God, the spring of all my joys;" but before she could finish the verse or the line, her waiting, happy spirit took its flight to the regions of glory, to the presence of that God who is now the spring of all her joys, and will be the fountain of her blessedness to all eternity. "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

Permit me, Mr. Editor, to say, in conclusion, that I heartily wish that those who may read these lines, when they leave this world, may leave behind them as satisfactory a testimony as ELIZABETH BILL.

Most sincerely do I thank God that I have witnessed such a death-bed experience; it has been sweet and refreshing to my own soul. And if the reading of this record should refresh and invigorate others, I shall greatly rejoice, and ascribe unto God all the praise and the glory.

H. BIRCH.
Ledbury, December 12th, 1860.

WHAT THE VERSE OF A

HYMN MAY DO.

WHAT a dreadful day was the 14th of September, 1796, for the small Hessian town of Lisberg, built on the wooded heights of the Vogelberg, Between nine and ten o'clock at night, 500 fugitives of the French army, which had just been defeated by the Archduke Charles, fled through the city, breathing vengeance; they shot the worthy old pastor of the town, who on his knees begged for mercy, and after they had destroyed, murdered, and plundered for many hours, they set fire to the town at all points, so that fifty-eight dwellings alone were burnt to the ground. On the slope of the hill, outside the town, there stood a cottage, within sat a mother at the bed of her sick child. From fear of endangering the life of her darling she would not, in the cold September day, flee with it into the woods, as most of the inhabitants had done. But now, when the firing and murdering began in the place, and the smoke of the burning houses came down from the hill into the valley, then was the poor lone woman fearful unto death; she bolted the door of the cottage, and threw herself on her knees in prayer beside the cradle of her child. Thus she remained a long time, trembling as she listened to the cry of rage of the soldiers, and the agonising shrieks of their victims, when her door at last was struck by the butt-end of a musket; old and dilapidated as it was, it quickly flew open, and a Frenchman dashed furiously in. pointing his bayonet at the horrified woman. Pale as death, the frightened mother laid her hands over her child, and with a voice of despair she prayed aloud the 8th verse of Gerhardt's hymn, beginning, "Now all the woods are resting," viz.:—

"My Jesus, stay thou by me,
And let no foe come nigh me,
Safe sheltered by thy wing;
But would the foe alarm me,
Oh! let him never harm me,

But still thine angels round me
sing,"

Suddenly the soldier lowered his deadly weapon, stepped to the cradle, and laid his rough hand softly on the child's head; his lips moved as if in prayer, and heavy tear-drops fell over his bearded face. Then he gave his hand to the mother, and went away in silence. But when, after some time, she arose from her knees, and looked out of the little window, behold! there stood the Frenchman, his musket in his arm, under a pear tree opposite the house door. He had made himself the sentinel to protect the house and its inmates from all insult or harm. At last when the whole troop, laden with booty, marched off, he left his post, with a greater treasure in his heart than his comrades in their sacks.

A BEAUTIFUL TESTIMONY.

BY DR. TYNG,

I CALL to mind a dear child in our Sunday school, whose early death, perhaps at sixteen years of age, sealed a beautiful testimony for Christ. My frequent visits to her chamber of intense suffering were full of comfort and delight. Such was her bodily agony that she could not lie down, or hardly sleep. Bnt her soul was full of light and joy. Yet her teaching had been gathered perhaps wholly in the Bible-class and church. At one visit, she said to me, "My precious pastor, listen to me. This is the way I think. First, God the Father loved me and chose me for His child. Then God the Son loved me and came and died for me that I might be His child. Then God the Holy Ghost loved me, and came and told me I was His child, and made me love Him as His child. My precious pastor, is this right ?" Blessed child of heaven, flesh and blood had not revealed it to her, but the Spirit of her Father in heaven. On another visit, she said, "My precious pastor, I have had such a sweet half night of prayer, no, perhaps only a third of the night. And I have been praying for you, and for your dear son, that a double portion of the Spirit

may rest upon him,-and for our dear Epiphany (my Philadelphia church) that God would raise them up a faithful pastor, and for St. George's that you may be made as great a blessing to them as you have been to us. And I thought I should love to be with you in St. George's. You know I do not know anybody there, but I shall always love thein because you are there. And then I thought, after I am gone, if I were permitted, I should ask Jesus to let me visit you in that dear church." Much more she added in the same strain, just as fresh in my memory, but this is enough. She sat upon her bed, with her head leaning forward upon her knees, and her hands clasped around them. At another visit I found her sitting much in the same posture in an easy chair. She said, My precious pastor,"-she never addressed me by any other title, "I have had such a sweet dream of heaven last night. Do you remember the little sermon you preached to us about Sweet Words and Bitter Words? Well, I thought the language of heaven was made up of all the sweet words of earth, and there were no bitter words there, and it seemed so lovely to have everybody speak to me so." These are a few scraps from a multitude of memories of that lovely child of God. Her faithful teacher is still living, and has even perhaps a fuller memory and a fuller joy than I in this relation.

YOU NEVER CAN RUB IT OUT. ONE pleasant afternoon a lady was sitting with her little son, a whitehaired boy, five years of age. The mother was sick, and the child had left his play to stay with her, and was amusing himself in printing his name with a pencil on paper.

Suddenly his busy finger stopped. He had made a mistake, and, wetting his finger, he tried again and again to rub out the mark, as he had been accustomed to do on his slate.

"My son," said his mother, "do you know that God writes down all you do in a book? He writes every

naughty word, every disobedient act, every time you indulge in temper and shake your shoulders, or pout your lips; and, my boy, you can never rub it out!"

The little boy's face grew very red, and in a moment tears ran down his cheeks. His mother's eye was on him earnestly, but she said nothing more. At length he came softly to her side, threw his arms round her neck, and whispered, "Can the blood of Jesus rub it out?"

Dear children, Christ's blood can rub out the evil you have done, and it is the only thing in the universe that can do it. "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin."

I AM SO HAPPY.

ONE week-night, not long ago, I was leaving the house of God, when I was met at the door by a young person who thus addressed me: Sir, can you tell me what I must do to be saved?" I replied, "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved." She immediately answered, "You have told me that before; but I feel such a great sinner, one who has sinned against so many warnings, that I cannot hope for pardon thus; I cannot believe that I am one for whom Christ died." "My dear friend," I said, "there is no sin too vile to be cleansed by the blood of Jesus. No person who feels himself to be a sinner, and who casts himself on Jesus for mercy, but shall find the Lord Jesus Christ is mighty to save." Some few days after this conversation, I met this young friend again. "Well, how is it with you now?" I inquired. "Can you believe in Jesus yet?" She instantly replied, while her countenance glowed with pleasure, "O yes; He is my Saviour-I can believe now, I am so happy!"

Dear reader, are you happy? Has God, for Christ's sake, forgiven your sins? If so, you must be happy; if not, you are a stranger to real happiness. Joy unspeakable and full of glory is within your reach. Christ