Holy Ghost. May God give it unto you; and unto me and all his people, that it may be our grand desire and design тO KNOW HIS WILL-TO DO HIS WILL-AND TO SUBMIT TO HIS WILL!

With our kind regards, and wishing you every success,
I remain as ever, very sincerely yours,

DANGER OF DELAY.

The following affecting incident seems to come fairly within the scope of your valuable periodical, and I therefore venture to communicate it in the hope that it may be useful.

A short time ago, I was requested to visit a poor sick man, who was said to be much distressed about his state, and anxious for instruction. In answer to my inquiries, he said he had till very lately been careless about religion; but that now he felt himself to be a sinner, and saw that the welfare of the soul was more important than any thing in this world. That was a point to which he wished now to attend, but he was at a loss how to set about it; I tried to point out to him the rich provision of grace and mercy made for sinners in the Gospel, and the willingness of God to bestow it on all who earnestly and sincerely seek for it in the appointed way. He expressed himself as being somewhat assisted by my attempt to direct him into the way of salvation; and after a little further conversation, I left him, with a promise of seeing him again shortly, having first marked a few passages of Scripture, suited to his case, for his consideration in the mean time. Alas! little did he or I then think, that his case would exhibit such a signal proof of the folly and danger of deferring the care of the soul to a season so unfavourable for that all-important work, as the one at which this poor man had arrived.

During the following day I was much engaged and did not see him; but the next morning I was informed that, an unfavourable change having taken place, he was much worse and wished greatly to see me. Never shall I forget the picture of despairing anxiety which his countenance presented. The hue of death was upon it. His eyes seemed starting from their sockets He was like a man who sees impending danger from which he would fain escape, but knows not how. That cold and clammy

sweat, which is generally the forerunner of death, bedewed his face and limbs. His breast and throat heaved with convulsive efforts. He had not breath to pray aloud, however much he might have wished it, save at one short interval, when the distressing scene was somewhat softened, by his utterance of a petition, near akin to the prayer offered by the poor publican. During this interval too he contrived to inform me, that he had been too unwell since he saw me, to attend to any thing but his bodily sufferings, and feared he had made but little progress.

I commended the dying man to Him who is able to save even at the eleventh hour, to Him who could say to the thief expiring on the cross, "this day shalt thou be with me in paradise." I then took my leave of him, promising to see him again in the evening; but very soon after my departure, he expired. The frail body rested from the mortal struggle; the spirit returned to God who gave it. It is not for us to decide upon the state of the departed: but charity does not forbid our deriving, from cases like this, the important lessons they are so obviously calculated to convey.

Here then was one of those instances, which are so often occurring around us, of the folly and danger of neglecting the concerns of the soul, till they are forced upon us by the approach of that solemn hour, which will usher us into an eternal state of existence, for which, till then, we have made no preparation: instances which prompt us to exclaim with God's ancient prophet, "O that men were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!”

Here too was one of those sad cases which so painfully convince us, how ill-adapted is a season of sickness for setting about the work of salvation, more especially if the disease be of that violent and distressing character which often deprives the mind of all its energies, and leaves but little inclination or opportunity to attend to any thing but the sufferings by which the body is harassed. None but those who have experienced it, can tell how harrowing is the consciousness that all is not with them as it should be, when they are compelled to mark the 'sure and speedy advances of the last enemy, and feel themselves urged towards the verge of that eternity for which they have made no provision, and respecting which, therefore, they can have no well-founded hope. Can it reasonably be expected,

that in such circumstances, the pangs of expiring nature will be alleviated by the joys and consolations of religion, and such persons be able to say with St. Paul, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him ;" or with the Psalmist, "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff comfort me"? Is it not rather probable that doubt and anxiety will in such cases pervade the soul, and so mingle with our bodily pains as to render the dark valley still more gloomy and appalling? God forbid that we should attempt to limit the power of divine grace; yet surely it is dangerous to presume upon the exertion, at that awful crisis, of a power which perhaps we have long despised, if not rejected. Assuredly such cases as the one I have been describing, say to us in language which cannot be misunderstood, "seek the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near;" "today, while it is called today, harden not your hearts;" "behold now is the accepted time, behold now is the day of salvation."

May all your readers be led to know in this their day, the things which belong unto their peace; and when the hour of death shall come, be enabled to say with good old Simeon, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation!"

How awful must "thy summons be, O death,"
To one but ill prepar'd to meet his end;
To one who long has lived without a thought
Of thee, or of the world that lies beyond;
To one who, being now compell'd to think,
Can have no prospect of that unknown world
To which he tends, but what is dark and drear;
To one who, when the storm of sickness comes,
Which tells that time to him shall be no more,
Can see no refuge from impending wrath,
But feels himself defenceless and undone!
Fain would he live, because unfit to die;
Fain would he seek to change the stern decree
Which says his days on earth are at an end;
But vain his wish! The world for which he liv'd
Is fast receding from his eager grasp,
And with it perish all his hopes and joys..
Bereft of all he trusted in, perhaps

He vaguely hopes for mercy, but alas!
Mercy, blest attribute of Deity,

The only ground of hope a sinner has,
When long despis'd may justly be withheld;
And He who long hath call'd, but been refused,
Perchance may swear, in righteous retribution,
That they who have despised his offer'd grace
Shall never find an entrance to his rest.
And is a time like this, a fitting time,
A season we should fix upon, to work
The all-important work of our salvation?
Shall we defer to nature's closing scene
Our cries for mercy, cries which may perhaps
Be drown'd amid the groans of mortal strife,
And, thus extorted by the fear of death,
Give little hope that they shall be accepted?
O happy sure are they, the only wise,
Who timely flee for refuge to the hope
The Gospel sets before them; they whose trust
Is firmly placed upon the Rock of Ages;
Whose eyes are fixed on mansions in the skies
Which He who promis'd surely will bestow;
Who ripen daily for those blest abodes,
And live on earth as citizens of heaven!
To such the summons cannot be unwelcome
Which calls them to anticipated joys,

Which brings them to their Father's house, the home
Where all their heart and treasure long have been-
Robb'd of his terrors, death appears to them

A messenger of love, divinely sent

To end their earthly journey; they depart

In peace serene and hope replete with glory;

For they have known and with the heart believ'd

In Him who brought salvation to mankind.

And now, their season of probation o'er,
They go to see their Saviour as he is

And be like him they love; their pupilage closed,
They rise to their inheritance above,
And dwell for ever in unfading bliss,

Joint-heirs with Christ, and heirs belov'd of God.

S. B. H.

EXTRACTS OF A LETTER FROM A FRIEND.

I quite forgot my intention of mentioning a very awful occurrence, which took place in our parish of B. about a fortnight ago, and which is a fresh instance of the direful effects of drinking.

Α poor woman had been entrusted by her husband with a sovereign, to lay in a stock of butter to sell again. She was in the habit of drinking, and laid out the money in spirits. At the end of the week when her husband must find out her misapplication of the money, she was seized with alarm lest he should beat her; (they were Roman Catholics, Irish, and of very violent tempers,) and she hid herself for the night in a neighbour's house. The next morning she went home after her husband was gone to his work, and when he returned to his dinner he found her hanging, and life quite gone! I knew the woman, and should little have expected it; they had no family, and were in comfortable circumstances, and comparatively respectable in appearance. How little did she think, when drinking what at the time was sweet to her taste, that she was drinking death-that one sin would lead her on so speedily to another. Truly the wages of sin is death.

I heard a beautiful and well authenticated instance lately, which occurs to my memory as a contrast to this-of the blessedness of the righteous-I wonder whether it has reached you. A poor woman was much persecuted by her husband for righteousness' sake-he sometimes turned her out of the house at night in a fit of passion. She did not fly to her neighbours and publish her husband's treatment; but on these occasions, spent the night in prayer for her husband, in an adjoining field. She determined too to devote a certain time at noon, every day for a year, to prayer, for her husband's conversion. The year went round and no change was to be seen in him; she determined to continue these special prayers for six months longer. The last day of the six months arrived, and she retired for the last time for prayer; the husband came in to dinner that day looking very gloomy and unhappy; but he went back to his work without saying any thing. In the evening he returned with the same appearance of oppression on his mind, and his wife ventured to ask whether any thing was the matter? "matter enough!" he said, "I am an undone sinner." He proceeded to explain, that about twelve o'clock that day his sins had all been brought to his remembrance, in such a manner, that he saw no hope for himself. She soon told him that there was indeed hope for a sinner in the Saviour, and for the first time they knelt down together, and poured out their hearts with many tears of mingled joy and sorrow before the throne of grace.