Mrs. P. and a Christian brother. "Call all in-call all— let a great many come--I wish to give directions—wonderful-glory-Jesus reigns." All the members of the family were called, but before they could be assembled, he sank down exhausted, and scarcely spoke again. He continued to breathe free from any further fit of pain until a quarter before eleven o'clock, when he fell asleep

in Jesus.

Such is an imperfect sketch of an eminent servant of Christ, as he approaches the gate of death. He referred every thing to the will of heaven, and as he bade farewell to this world of trial and of sin, he reposed upon the arm of a covenant-keeping God, with a hope full of immortality.

MEDITATIONS ON SCRIPTURE.

"She was in bitterness of soul, and prayed unto the Lord, and wept sore."-1 Samuel i. 10.

Here is the essence, the true spirit of prayer. The soul is cast down in deep sorrow; sensible of its want, and truly desirous of the blessings for which the lips are praying, so that tears flow, as Hannah thinks of her desolate condition without them.

Poor Hannah! she had been to the temple before, had probably prayed for the same blessing as now; but perhaps her prayer was heartless, or mixed with envy of her more fruitful partner, or with a wish to triumph over her. So God saw good to humble her still further, to provoke her by repeated trials of patience, till with heart broken, and contrite spirit, she kneels in fervent prayer, before his footstool. It was the prayer of the heart, (verse 13.)

Is there nothing applicable to me in this passage. When I have offered up prayer before God, and he has been pleased to withhold the desired blessing, may I not find here a motive to perseverance and earnest importunity? It were well likewise to search out the cause for the divine refusal. Has it never been the prayer of the lips, rather than the heart. Have I been sincere in my petitions for deliverance from sin? Has my heart never fondly clung to the iniquity against which my

lips were praying? And where is "the bitterness of soul" and sore weeping," with which the contrite heart approaches a holy God, and which he has commanded. Joel ii. 12. And have I, like Hannah, vowed that the blessing shall be dedicated to the service of God? Oh! far, far from all this, guilty indeed, guilty in my very approach to God. Oh! Lord Jesus, I can only come to thee, break the hard heart, and cleanse it from vain thoughts and teach me how to pray.

"Because I rejoice in thy salvation."-1 Sam. ii. 1.

The verse begins, "and Hannah prayed.” Here then is another prayer, but how differently expressed. She who so lately came "in bitterness of soul," is now "rejoicing." And there is not more difference in the expression, than in the prayer itself. She had prayed for one only blessing-she had received it; and again she bends her knees before the gracious giver; but her cup is full, and her heart too; she has no more to ask, and thus prayer unconsciously becomes praise. It is remarkable there is not one petition in this prayer. She acknowledges all to have been given, "because she rejoices in God's salvation. This is not merely an expression of the lips, but evidently her real feeling from the prayer that follows; adoring his holiness, (1 verse)-his strength, (2)-his knowledge (3.)-his power, (4-8.)-his providence, (9.)-his judgments, (10.)

Come then, let us learn another lesson from Hannah. When prayer is answered, as it has been manifestly in several instances; leave off attributing the event to second causes, and come acknowledge it before God; make it a cause of praise and encouragement to ask again. And when your cup is overflow. ing with blessings, so that you have scarcely any petition to offer, remember how great things he hath done for thee-and rejoice in his salvation-make his holiness, thy adoration-his strength, thy confidence-his knowledge, thy guide-his power, thy sufficiency-his providence, thy safeguard-his judgments, thy fear and warning-and then, truly, thou mayest "rejoice in his salvation,"

SELECT PASSAGES.

The reason why the men of the world think so little of Christ, is they do not look at him. Their backs being turned from the sun, they only see their own shadows, and are therefore wholly taken up with themselves; while the true disciple looking only upward, sees nothing but his Saviour and learns to forget himself.-Extract from the Life of Dr. Payson.

Dr. Johnson reproved the Rev. Dr. Maxwell for saying grace without mention of our Lord Jesus Christ, and hoped in future he would be more mindful of the apostolical injunction. Boswell's Life of Johnson.

REFLECTIONS.

There was a time-when hope and fancy's sway
Brighten'd the sunshine of life's early day;
When cares were banish'd and distress forgot
In the gay visions of the future lot!
These told me falsely, not of rest below,
Nor of exemption from each mortal woe;
But of a guardian spell within my range
Which each excitement could to int'rest change.
Thus careless, I upon life's pathway trod,
But-was I happy? no- -I knew not God.
There was a time-I felt I was deceived;
With sad forebodings oft my spirit heav'd,
Restless and tossing like th' imperious surge
Whose foaming billows scorn their rocky verge;
My troubl'd thoughts in angry tempest rose,
Nor aught avail'd my spirit to compose:
This inward conflict more than flesh could bear
Drove me to seek a remedy in prayer;

And oft I thought upon their calm delight

Who walk thro' this world "children of the light."
There was a time I felt-oh! could I be

A pilgrim in that blessed company;

No more should I life's threat'ning ills endure,
Nor feel the pangs which this world cannot cure;
All would be peace upon that sunlit way

Which shines more brightly to the perfect day.

My longing eyes, transfix'd with eager gaze,

View'd the bright throng, and heard their notes of praise,
And with them then I would, but could not, sing

Of Zion's glories or her holy king.

There was a time-that king in pity sought

The wand'ring sheep his precious blood had bought:
He ope'd his treasures and imparted thence

The sacred gifts of faith and penitence;
These drew my spirit to that blessed "door"
Which those who enter shall repass no more;
And oh! how chang'd each earthly object seem'd
As o'er my sight eternal lustre stream'd-
All bright above, all dark and drear below;
I marvell'd how the world deceiv'd me so.
Onward I press'd and heard my Saviour near,
In thrilling accents say, "be of good cheer."-
Since then-my heart fain would but cannot tell
Th' unwearied mercies of Immanuel;
How thro' the thorny wilderness, his arm
Has been my help, my shelter in alarm;
His love, my hope in ev'ry trying hour,
When sin and Satan waged their fearful pow'r:
For bright as once I thought that path to be
Which leads the Christian to eternity,

I since have learnt that stormy is the way,
That clouds and mists oft dim the cheerful day.
And while no treasure worlds on worlds could give
Would tempt me to exchange the life I live;
Still (as mine eye in retrospect surveys
The smiling visions of my earlier days,
As from some toiling steep I turn to view
The smoother path my freshborn spirit knew,
When hope triumphant took her eagle flight,
And fondly whisper'd "all before is bright,")
My wayworn spirit now the contrast sees
Between her warfare and a life of ease;
How foes unnumber'd haunt the pilgrim's road,
E'en till he reach his Father's blest abode.
Yet there are times, while sojourning below,
Of deep repose, which none but Christians know;
By the still waters in the pastures green
The weary flock at times to rest are seen;
And as a sound from heav'n to their dull ears
The music of their Shepherd's voice appears.
And though the wilderness so rarely yields
Charms which belong to bright and flowing fields,
Though little to refresh the pilgrim grows,
And there's a thorn with ev'ry earthborn rose;
Yet, from the smitten rock, how freely flows
That healing stream perennial in its source,
Guiding and gladd'ning all the Christian's course!
Angelic food! celestial manna too

Descends his fainting spirit to renew.

Such are the blessings of the child of God, He hails his Father's smile, reveres his rod! And when that voice shall summon him away

To changeless scenes of bright and perfect day,
How pure the transports, and the sight how sweet!
A ransom'd sinner at a Saviour's feet!

There, on a sea of glass, with harps of gold
The victor champions of the cross behold;
Their raptures, such as angels cannot know,
Thrill through their spirits with celestial glow,
And prompt that new, that never-ending song
Which can but to redeemed souls belong;

The white-wash'd robes, the Father's written name
This ransom'd company of saints proclaim;

Their heav'n they find in that o'erwhelming sight,
The Lamb once slain, the Lord of life and light:
And as they wonder with adoring eyes
Hark! hallelujahs from their lips arise!

Soon may I join that pure, that countless throng
In the glad strains of their immortal song!

Rom. 6. 11
Eph. 4. 4, 5, 6
James 4. 11
1 Cor. 8 1
Rom. 12.7
1 Thess. 4. 4
2 Cor. 1. 20
Rom. 2. 13
1 Peter 2. 2
Rom. 6. 23
1 John 2. 25
Phil. 3. 20
Rom. 13. 1
1 Tim. 6. 20
Phil. 3. 21
Rom. 5. 3

Heb. 12. 22-24
Col. 1. 22

1 Pet. 5. 7
Rom. 6. 13
Gal. 5. 13
1 Cor. 12. 12
Col. 3. 17
Rom. 3 25
Heb. 11. 25
Rom. 7 18

2 Cor. 1. 21, 22
1 Tim. 4 4, 5
Rom. 1. 16

Arthur Foster, Printer, Kirkby Lonsdale.