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'tis making known our case to him." It was replied; yes, it is made acceptable when offered in the name of his dear Son." William rejoined, with all the earnestness of which he was capable: "aye, that's it; 'tis he makes it clean as it goes up; and then 'tis fit for Ged to hear." A day or two after this he was asked; "what do you think of Christ now ?" He replied, "why that's almost hard to answer; for I've kept coming to him and looking at him. now this long bit; but I know not half enough of him to say much-I know he's faithful, such as none other can be-I know he's a Saviour, such as none other can be-I know what he is to me, by feeling what he has done for me: but I can't express much about him, as many can— I can't talk and explain like a many do." It was said, "but you think him a master well worth serving, William, don't you?" He answered, "why sure he mun be that, for all things are ours if we are Christ's, ('postle says) even things present and things to come, and life and death; and there's more besides, which I've clean forgot, and I know 'tis a poor mack that's got in working and toiling for this world." He was noted for his love and respect for the ministers of God; and said more than once, that he thought those were doing Satan's work who tried to set the minds of others against them; for, said he," the Bible calls it Satan's work to stop men's ears, lest they should hear the word, and be converted and healed; and they are doing just the same." After this he was requested to remember his absent minister in his prayers; and it was urged upon him by the claim, that ministers have upon their people: he replied with great feeling; yes sure; for he labours for souls, and that's oft a sore labour-he's got a rough way to walk in here; but his shoes shall be iron and brass; (and forgetting the remainder of the verse it was supplied for him) and as his day is, his strength shall be.' Deut. xxxiii. 25. And (he continued) God is faithful-I hope he'll be the means of turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just-I know he's nought as a man; but Christ in him can do all things." And then speaking of a young minister who often visited him, he added; "God Almighty
bless him! I say 'tis the best of all works that he has ta'en in hand, though it mun be rough work sometimesbut God won't let him faint, and he'll give him bits of 'couragement here and there, that he may see God is faithful—he'll never leave him nor forsake him-he has said so, and that he never will; and he can't be with him for nought, according to my thinking." The friend who was speaking enquired then, "and what have you to say to me in this your dying hour ?" and reminded him what a responsible thing it was to have children to bring up for God. He replied, "aye that's a solemn thing sure, but the Lord will be your helper, and his grace is sufficient for every thing-he has said so-I hope to see you all with the innumerable company of angels that 'postle speaks of." Next day being Saturday, it was said to him; "I think, William, you will not need the prayers of the church to-morrow." He at once understood what was meant, and answered; "sure not, if I'm got along with the church of the first-born, and it cannot be long now." It was with the greatest difficulty that his words could be understood; for his breath seemed nearly departing, and his pains were very great. But he was evidently engaged in prayer, and the following petitions were distinguished and noted down; "merciful Jesus, thou knowest my case -thou art faithful-grant me patience-thou wilt, for thou hast said so-thou wilt never leave nor forsake me-thou hast carried me all along this fifty, this sixty, this eighty years, and I can pay thee nought back again." Contrary to expectation, he was alive on the next morning; and after service at church in allusion to the text of the ser mon, Our Father which art in heaven,' he was asked, whether he could not call God his Father, in the fullest confidence of a child. Though his flesh was well nigh failing, yet his whole heart seemed to kindle at the thought; and in the true spirit of adoption, he most ardently expressed the full assurance of his hope, and the entire peace and satisfaction it produced in his mind with respect to all his Father's appointments: adding, "wherever he places me, it is just there I would be; and what ever he wills me to suffer, that would I bear :" and more
to the same effect. Into the hands of his heavenly Father he committed his surviving children without a care or a fear; though from the combined trials of poverty and bodily infirmity, one of them is now left entirely destitute not only of the common comforts, but of the necessaries of life. And throughout all his conduct, we see a convincing proof that real faith is not an empty notion in the head, but a living principle implanted in the heart by the Holy Spirit, transforming the affections, subduing the will, and bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. He lingered one more day, and entered into his heavenly rest, Tuesday morning, January 18th, 1831, aged eighty-three years.
Reader! have you ever seriously set yourself to compare the pleasures of sin, which are but for a moment, with that rich recompense of reward which even in this life is the portion of the children of God? If you have not, and if the voice of God in the ministry of the Gospel, has hitherto failed to convince you of the worthless nature and miserable consequences of the one, and of the inestimable value of the other, yet turn not away your ear from the testimony of this poor man, who though dead yet speaketh; and let the unspeakable joys and privileges of his state, as here described, allure you to seek to be made a partaker of the same. Be assured these blessings may be yours; and that if they are at present unknown to you, it is only because they have been undesired and unsought, "for every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.” Matthew vii. 8.
March 16th, 1831.
SORROW OF THE WORLD.
"The sorrow of the world worketh death."--2 Chron. vii. 10.
During a short stay with a party of Christian friends at the pleasant town of B-, in North Wales, in the early part of last September, I met with a striking and melancholy illustration of the truth of the above words: and as the circumstance alluded to
holds out a profitable warning to all, and especially to those in similar stations of life, not to labour only for the meat that perish. eth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life; and in the hour of trouble to cast all their care upon one who careth for them; I am induced to relate it, in the hope that the blessing of God may attend the reading of it.
As soon as we were settled in our lodgings at B-, I inquired of the woman of the house, if she knew of any poor sick people in the neighbourhood, who would be glad of a visit from a Christian friend? She said, she only knew of one person, a poor woman who was dying of a broken heart, in consequence of not being able to let her lodgings, and being obliged to sell the furniture to pay the rent: she added, that it was a very hard case, as her husband was out of employ, and they had an orphan niece living with them. As it was late at night when I heard this, I deferred visiting the poor woman till the following morning, when finding whereabouts she lived, I set out. The house, which I soon found, and which was the one they had taken for the purpose of letting lodgings, was pleasantly situated, though at an inconvenient distance from the sea shore. The knocker was wrapped up in straw, to deaden the sound, so that it was some time before I could make myself heard; at last the door was opened by the niece, a modest, delicate looking girl, of about fifteen. In answer to my inquiries respecting her aunt, she said, with much feeling, "O ma'am, she's very bad, we don't know what to do, but would you like to see her?" and on my saying that I should, she shewed me into a side room on the ground floor, where such a scene of distress presented itself, as I shall never forget. On a bed, made up on the floor, in one corner of the room, lay the poor woman in a state of insensibility; now and then she seemed to rouse herself a little, and attempted to get up, but was prevented by her husband and an elderly woman, who stood at each side; the poor girl stood at the bottom of the bed, crying. The husband soon made me acquainted with their sorrowful story. They had saved a little money before marriage, and as the wife had been in service, and was an excellent cook and housekeeper, they had laid it out in furnishing the present house, intending to let lodgings. The first year the plan answered very well; but the next season, some mischievous persons spread the report that their last lodgers had been obliged to leave them, on account of the rooms swarming with bugs; a story, as I
afterwards learnt, as false as it was unkind, and invented probably by some one who wished to recommend their own lodgings in preference. The consequence was, the lodgings were unengaged the whole of last summer; and the husband, who was a carrier, being out of employ at the same time, they were at last constrained to sell the furniture, which they had bought with their hard-earned savings, to pay the rent. A loan of £8 would have saved them from this last extremity, and enabled them to keep the house on another season; but the friends they applied to refused their assistance, and the sale took place. The poor woman's distress at parting with what seemed their only means of recovering their losses, was very great; and though from all I could learn, both she and her husband were what the world calls highly respectable and church-going people, their religion was but like the house built on the sand, it failed them in the hour of trial. From the day of the sale, the poor woman sunk under her troubles. “O it was pitiful to see her," said the poor man, "she would get up in the night, and walk about the house, crying as if her heart would break; and she'd neither speak to any one, nor eat a bit of any thing, do all as we could."
Poor woman! she had laboured after the meat that perisheth, and she had not learned to trust in him who said, "your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." Matt. vi. 32, 33. Her sorrow was emphatically "the sorrow of the world, that worketh death;" it had preyed upon her spirits, broken down her constitution, deprived her of reason, and brought her to the brink of the grave; but it had not brought her to pray; it had not lead her to Jesus. In about ten days from the day of the sale, nature sunk beneath the exhaustion; a large abscess which broke outwardly added to her sufferings, and when I saw her, the doctor who attended her had no hope either of her recovery, or of any interval of reason before her death. "O Margaret, Margaret," exclaimed the husband, bursting into tears, and taking hold of his wife's hand, "and is it come to this? O ma'am, you don't know what a wife she's been to me, so tidy and industrious; only she fretted so about coming down in the world, and having like all to begin again—but O! it's the hardest trouble of all to see her so; I could have borne anything but this ;" and his feelings overcame him for a while. It