was under our roof, and time only enhanced the esteem in which she was held. We have sorrowed for her loss, but not as those without hope. We are thankful that we have not been obliged to leave her to the tender mercies of an unsympathizing world. Her desire was to be with Christ, and that desire we fondly hope is fully and for ever realized. Her death speaks to every fellowmember of this church, and it urges all to "work while it is called to day, for the night cometh when no man can work." With us she will commune no more; with; us on earth she will worship no more. But let us anticipate the time of re-union at the banquet of love in heaven. Let our anxiety be to live to Christ, cherishing at the same time a "desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better."

Finally, her death speaks to the YOUNG.

What an impressive lesson does it read upon the vanity of human life! Here was a young woman called to bear the yoke of affliction in her youth, and to die in her twenty-fourth year. "Her sun went down while it was yet noon. And how know you that your end is not near? Oh! "set not your affections on things on the earth;" follow not the vanities, and fashions, and pleasures of this world. Let your life be consecrated to Christ from henceforth, and remember that the departed has assured you that you will never regret it. REGRET IT! No! The soul that is joined to its Saviour, can never regret its union, for by that union it rises to the elevation of salvation and of heaven for ever.

Some of you knew and esteemed the departed. O come and join yourselves to the Lord and Saviour. For this she prayed, and let none despise the prayer of a humble disciple. I cannot but hope, that as her own serious impressions were ripened into decision for Christ under a funeral sermon, so some of you may from this

time be led to seek the Lord, and give yourselves to Him."Brethren, my heart's desire and prayer to God. for you all is, that YOU MAY BE SAVED."

THE DYING CHRISTIAN.

REV. R. GIBSON, ENGLAND.

ON THE DEATH OF MR. J. C. H., AGED 32.

"For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, 1 have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love His appearing."-2 TIMOTHY iV: 6–8.

THE

HE solemn event which we are assembled this evening to improve, though truly mournful and painfully distressing, and even overwhelming to the minds of some, is in itself mingled with the blooming hope of immortality and eternal life. We cannot, however, but regard it amongst the dark, mysterious, impenetrable dispensations of an infinitely wise and kind Providence. When we see the aged sinner with his hoary head, emaciated frame, and broken down constitution, whose life has been one of distinguished transgression, spared year after year in his rebellion, and on his right hand and on his left the young, the healthful, the virtuous, the good, are swept away by the relentless hand of mortality, and those hopes that have swelled the bosoms of pious parents, that have promised to revive the church and to bless the world, have been blighted and withered in the bud; when we see this, are we not disposed to exclaim, "How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!" Thus it has been in the present instance, and thus it has been in a thousand others; but

be it ours to "stand still and know that He is God," and that "He doeth all things well," "though His way is in the sea, His path in the great waters, and His footsteps are not known. Clouds and darkness are round about Him, justice and judgment are the habitation of His throne." In the midst of such perplexing scenes, resignation to the will of God is most desirable, and perhaps the highest and noblest attainment to which the Christian can arrive, on this side the grave. It is said of one, that while yet wave after wave brake with greater violence on his devoted head, "in all this he sinned not, nor charged God foolishly." "I was dumb," said the psalmist, "because Thou didst it ;" and another calmly replied, "It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good." Oh! for something of that meek submission, which characterized the blessed Redeemer, when approaching the bitterest agonies that could wring His sinless heart; "Nevertheless not My will, but Thine be done."

St. Paul was at this time a prisoner in Rome, for the truth, he had so much loved, and so faithfully proclaimed. He was hourly anticipating a martyr's death, for the glorious Gospel of the blessed God. While thus standing on the verge of both worlds, in calmly reviewing the past, he says, "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand; I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." Then casting his reflections forward into futurity, more sublime and enrapturing visions broke on his triumphant spirit.

This too was something of the experience of our departed friend. In reviewing the past, he could rejoice; and, in the anticipation of the future, he could triumph. This is not the gloomy language of skepticism, but of a martyr and a Christian, awaiting his dimissal from a

world of sorrow, to the realms of endless bliss. This dispels the gloom from the grave; this cheers and illumines the pathway to the tomb; this wipes away the bitter tear of the anxious mourner, that lingers behind; this bereaves the last enemy of his sting; this sustains the soul amid the wreck of nature," and opens to the departing spirit a survey of the cloudless mansions of joy, to which it is about to take its everlasting flight. And no wonder if amid such scenes he should long for "the wings of a dove, to fly away and be at rest.”

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We shall make some brief remarks on each sentiment of this interesting passage.

May the Lord command His abundant blessings; may He fill this place with His glory; and may he bind up every wound, and comfort every sorrowful spirit, for His name's sake!

"I am now ready to be offered." This is the sweet experience of the man of God. There are in his mind no fearful forebodings, no anxious pangs, no tremulous apprehensions, rising to wrap the soul in the mists of obscurity, while thus treading the margin of the grave. How many express an ardent desire for that world of peace and rest awaiting the believer, but how seldom do they properly consider the essential, the indispensable preparation for such a state! If there be one thing in the universe of God more pleasing to the mind than all others, it is to see the Christian completely prepared for heaven. There he stands, when life wears to a close, and the twilight shadows of the evening are flinging themselves around him, with his lamp trimmed, and being brilliantly wrapped in a robe without a stain, waiting only for the fiery chariot and the convoy of angels, to conduct his happy spirit to Abraham's bosom.

We cannot be surprised at the ancient Christians "not accepting deliverance." Like this noble champion

for the truth, their labors were ended, the wilderness traversed, the journey of life at a close, upon the borders of the promised land, waiting to enter in. And while the gates are thus opening and the soul rising to God and to heaven, to mingle with its kindred spirits, and as the discordant sounds of earth die away on the ear, the melting strains of heavenly music break upon it; and as the eye becomes dim to all earthly scenes, and as they fade away, it opens upon the celestial visions of eternal day. What can be more distressing, than at such a crisis to be thrown back upon the bleak shores of an unfriendly world!

Our beloved friend, when once nearly gone, but recovering again from a most painful attack, said, "all this is a disappointment." But it was only for a little; angels were preparing his crown, and hastening to meet him; yet a little, and he soared away to join in the song, "Unto Him that hath loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, be glory for ever."

My brethren, are you ready to pass to that dying chamber, or at once to that "rest that remaineth for the people of God?" Is you lamp trimmed and burning? Have you on "the wedding garment," or is it the tattered robe of your own self-righteousness, you stand in to-night?

"The time of my departure is at hand." Few lessons in the pages of Divine revelation are taught with greater emphasis, or more solemnity, than the brevity of human life. All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is like the flower of the field; the grass withereth, the flower fadeth;" plucked by the ruthless hand, it fades in an hour, dies in a day. If, then, his days are few and full of trouble; if only like a span, a vapor, or a rapid stream, that passes; if like that arrow, he be passing over the narrow sea of life, into the fathomless depths of