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be found careless, unfaithful, or of a little self-denial, if dismissed unjust. on the heavenly errand of diffusing If the professed disciples of Je- life and peace where the Sun of sus improve this consideration as Righteousness hath never shone, instructed by their Lord, remem- they shall not always be found bering that each one individually wanting; when summoned by the sustains the character and office of angel of death, we shall bid a final a steward, accountable to their adieu to the vanities of time, and engreat Lord and Master Jesus Christ, ter the unseen world, our gracious surely they will feel their station to Lord and Master, who remembers be one of fearful responsibility, every cup of cold water that is and the meanest thing committed given in his name, shall place upon to their care accompanied with a our heads a crown, in which we solemn trust, so to be used and shall again behold them, sparkling appropriated as shall meet with the with increased and unfaded lustre. approbation of Him from whom it I do not mean to imply that bewas received. coming ornaments, without an unShould the following remarks due profusion (which must be left meet the eye of a young disciple, with taste and prudence to deterwhose heart is warmed with a sin- mine) are in themselves unlawful or cere desire of becoming humbly improper, but might not their numinstrumental in extending the peace- ber fand costliness in general be ful and blessed kingdom of the profitably diminished? And are Redeemer, and who would there- there not a few to be found whose fore rejoice in promoting this glo- hearts burn with so fervent a derious work, by enabling the mis-sire for the eternal welfare of their sionaries of the cross to erect its fellow-creatures and the glory of hallowed ensign on those "gloomy God, that they would rather dehills of darkness" which have spoil themselves of every jewel, never been visited with the light of than be prevented from casting the glorious Gospel-possibly (as their humble mite into the great a hint from one who has herself treasury? And oh! were such a made trial of the plan she wishes resolution generally adopted, who to recommend) they may not be can tell how great the results, how unattended with beneficial results. extensive the operation might be?

Whilst, then, the followers of Christian females might, indeed, the Lamb are not, it is apprehend-appear less brilliantly arrayed at ed, in general required literally to their festive parties, but if only part with all for his sake, are there one immortal soul were rescued not many of us possessed of some from endless woe through this sasuperfluous ornaments which might crifice of love, who can estimate be turned to nobler account, if the comparison between the littleemployed in the service and cause ness of the cost, and the immense of the Redeemer? And though and eternal benefits which it has their loss in the decoration of our secured? persons might require the exercise

SALOME.

POETRY.

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The Thorn in the Flesh.-2 Cor. xii. 7. Lord, if consistent with thy will,

Ah! take this thorn away;
But if for me 'tis needful still,

The thorn should longer stay;
Then patience give, the cross to bear,
And faith, to trust thy love and care.
This thorn, it may be sent by thee,
A token of thy love;
That I may truly humbled be,

Like those thou dost approve ;
I would lie passive and be still,
And bow submissive to thy will.

The thorn sometimes feels sharp and sore,
And then to thee I cry ;
For grace sufficient I implore,
Thy help is ever nigh:
Say to my soul, "I am thy God,"
And I shall gladly kiss the rod.
The thorn, a chastisement may be,
Beneath the stroke I bend;
From every evil set me free,

Let me no more offend :

But look to Jesus as my shield,
And prompt obedience to him yield.
The thorn sometimes seems giving way,
Then I am cheer'd with hope;
At other times my fears bear sway,

And then my spirits droop:
My weakness, Lord, I feel and own,
Now let thy power in me be shewn.

The thorn may be to wean from earth,

And make me long for heaven;
Where I shall sound thy praises forth,

For I have much forgiven:
Oh! guide me to that heavenly shore,
Where I shall need the thorn no more.

J.B.

F

66

REVIEW.

Memoir of the late Mrs. Susan Hunting- this work to all classes of our readers,

ton, of Boston Moss; consisting principally of Extracts from her Journal and Letters, with the Sermon occasioned by her Death. By BENJAMIN B. WISNER, Pastor of the Old Sonth Church in Boston. With a recommendatory Notice by the Rev. Dr. GORDON, of Edinburgh. Price 6s. 6d. Edinburgh: Waugh and Innes.

THIS volume is a production of the American press, and we perfectly agree with the Rev. Edward S. Dwight, who sent a copy of it to Mr. Innes, of Edinburgh, that it well deserved to be reprinted here. America has been very prolific in specimens of excellent female characters: we have, among others, Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Newel, Miss Fanny Woodbecke, and it is to be hoped that we shall have some biographical account of that excellent woman, Mrs. Judson, whose history was so eventful, and who manifested such distinguished zeal in the Missionary cause. But we are persuaded that the volume before us will be found inferior to none that have preceded it.

as an admirable specimen of sound and judicious Christian experience, most feelingly and beautifully expressed.

Mrs. Huntington, on the maternal side, was a descendant of the Rev. John Elliot, who will bear, to future ages, the honourable title of "the Indian Apostle."

We extract her account of the death of her husband, and her Poem on the death of an infant born after her husband's death.

"On Saturday, August 28, 1819, I heard that Mr. Huntington had stopped at Groton, fatigued; and was not much alarmed, supposing that he did not come into Boston so late in the week, to avoid the labour of preaching immediately after so long and solicitations of my friends, and the consifatiguing a journey; and overruled by the deration of the yellow fever being in Boston, I remained at Bridgewater until Wednesday. On Tuesday I sat watching at the window, to see the well-known chaise, the sound of which, on similar occasions, had always delighted me. Toward evening I expected the stage, and possibly my husband in it. The stage appeared. Instead of my husband, These Memoirs are compiled by the the driver threw me out a letter. It struck Rev. B. Wisner, successor to Mrs. Hun-a pang to my heart. When I had opened tington's husband, and the selection of the materials appears extremely judicious. In addition to a short preface by the British Editor, we have a recommendatory notice by the Rev. Dr. Gordon, of Edinburgh. The sheets had been sent to that gentleman while the work was passing through the press, and he expresses his opinion of it in the following note to one of the publishers:

it, through the mistaken kindness of my

friends I was still informed that he was

fatigued.' Distracted with apprehension and suspense, I waited for morning; and at nine o'clock left Bridgewater in the stage, with a heart tortured with apprehensions, alas! soon and certainly realized. During my ride home this passage of Scripture was upon my mind, and comforted me- All things work together for good to them that love God.'

"On Thursday morning I set out in a chaise, accompanied by a friend, for Groton. During the ride, the first answer of the Assembly's Catechism was strongly impressed upon my mind-Man's chief end is to glorify God, and enjoy him for ever.' I felt that for the last twelve years I had in a great degree misunderstood the great object for which I was made; that, if not my chief, a very high end with me had been, to be happy in my husband, and make him happy in me. I felt that the highest hapWe can most cheerfully recommend piness of a rational mind ought to arise

"My Dear Sir-I think you will render an important service to the Christian world by the republication of the Memoir and Letters of Mrs. Huntington. The volume appears to us to be a very valuable one, and if I am not greatly mistaken, will soon occupy a high place among works of Christian biography.'

from answering the purpose for which God made it, and therefore that I ought to be happy in glorifying God, not in enjoying myself. "We reached the public-bouse in Groton. I inquired if they knew how Mr. Huntington, of Boston, was. The answer was, very sick indeed; the doctor has been there all day; he is a very sick man.' My limbs would scarcely support me to the house. Upon our arrival there, we went into the parlour alone. The first object that met my eye, was the hat of the blessed sufferer above stairs. It struck me with fearfulness and trembling, as the herald of death. I asked for the physician, and in reply to my agonized interrogation, Is there no hope?' he said, Mr. Hantington is very sick. I should have some hope, were it not that all fevers this summer have been unusually fatal.' The overwhelming agonies of that moment can never be described. The language of my heart was, Oh, that God would redeem his life with mine!' The doctor told me I must compose myself, as to see me agitated might destroy the object of my solicitude.

"Mr. Huntington was apprised by the physician of my arrival. There was an increase of ten to the number of his pulse upon this intelligence. When I entered the room in which he lay, he was gasping for breath; but his countenance glowed with an expression of tenderness I shall never forget, as he threw open his arms, exclaiming, My dear wife!" and clasped me for some moments to his bosom. I said with composure, My blessed husband, I have come at last.' He replied, Yes, and it is infinite mercy to me.' I told him, all I regretted was, that I could not get to him sooner. He said, with a tender consideration for my health, which he always valued more than his own, I am glad you could not; in your present circumstances it might have been too much for you.'

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From that time, owing to the insidious nature of his disease, I had considerable hope. I had seen him-1 was with him. He was as sensible of my love and of my attentions as ever; and I could not realize the stroke that was impending. Never shall I remember without gratitude the goodness of God, in giving me that last week of sweet, though sorrowful intercourse with my beloved husband.

"The days and nights of solicitude drew near a fatal close. I could not think of his death. At that prospect nature revolted. I felt as if it would be comparatively easy to die for him. But the day before his death, when all spoke encouragement, I felt that we must part. In the bitterness of my soul I went into the garret. It was the only place I could have without interruption. Never shall I forget that hour. Whether

in the body or out, I could scarcely tell. I drew near to God. Such a view of the reality and nearness of eternal things I never had. It seemed as if I was somewhere with God. I cast my eye back on this life, it seemed a speck. I felt that God was my God, and my husband's God; that this was enough that it was a mere point of difference whether he should go to heaven first or I, seeing we both should go. so soon. My mind was filled with satisfaction with the government of God. • Be ye followers of them, who through faith and patience inherit the promises,' seemed to be the exhortation given me upon coming back to this world. I do not mean that there were any bodily or sensible appearances, but I seemed carried away in spirit. pleaded for myself and children, travelling through this distant country; it seemed as if I gave them, myself, and husband up entirely, and it was made sure to me that God would do what was best for us.

I

"From that time, though nature would have her struggles, I felt that God had an infinite right to do what he pleased with his own; that he loved my husband better than I did; that if he saw him ripe for his rest, I had no objections to make. All the night he was exercised with expiring sufferings, and God was pouring into my soul one truth and promise of the Gospel after another. I felt it sweet for him to govern. There was a solemn tranquillity filled the chamber of death. It was an hour of extremity to one whom Jesus loved. I felt that he was

there, that angels were there; that every agony was sweetened and mitigated by One in whose sight the death of his saints is precious. I felt as if I had gone with the departing spirit to the very utmost boundary of this land of mortals, and as if it would be easier for me to drop the body, which coufined my soul in its approach toward heaven, than to retrace all the way I had gone. When the intelligence was brought me that the conflict was over, it was good news; I kissed the clay as pleasantly as I ever did when it was animated by the now departed spirit. I was glad he had got safely home, and that all the steps of his departure were so gently ordered.

It would be in vain for me to attempt a description of my feelings the next morning. I had never seen such a sun rise before. I beheld me alone. Were I the only created being in the universe, I could not, perhaps, have felt very differently. I went into the chamber in which he died. There, on the pillow, was the print of his head. The bed of death was just as when it resigned, for ever, the body of him who was all the world to me. His portmanteau, comb, brush, &c. lay in sight. God wonderfully supported me.

"But why do I dwell on a desoription | ousness," yet, perhaps, there is no part which, even now, is almost too much for of the sacred writings to which the me? How did God sustain a creature who eminently pious more frequently resort, was weakness itself! How mercifully has be carried me through all my successive trials! Truly it was the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in my eyes.

"And now, Oh! how is it now? Not so much comfort, labouring with sin, afraid almost to live in this wicked world, dread

than to the Book of Psalms. Its admirable adaptation to their varying experience, secures for it an exalted place in their estimation. Its descriptions have so often instructed, its counsels so often ing a thousand evils in my present lonely directed, and its promises so often anistate. But all this is wrong. God hath mated them; it has in so many instances said, 'Who shall harm you, if ye be fol-assisted them in confessing their sins; lowers of that which is good?' How kindly on so many occasions helped them in my beloved husband used to remind me of presenting their requests; and so repeatedly aided them in expressing their

this text!'

"On the Death of an Infant Son. Written thanksgiving, that at length its peculi.

in November, 1821.

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arly rich and beautiful phraseology has become almost imperceptibly interwoven with every utterance of their private and their public worship. ·

It cannot, therefore, be deemed at all surprising that, in the progress of time, we should find ourselves in possession of many excellent commentaries on this infinitely valuable section of divine truth; some adorned with biblical criticism, others enriched with experimental reflections, and not a few distinguished by important suggestions for "holy living and dying." And we are happy in being enabled to announce to our readers the first part of another highly respectable work on this portion of the inspired volume; in which the above objects, to a considerable extent, are happily united. Mr. Morison has laudably availed himself of the assistance of the most eminent writers who have preceded him in this important sphere of labour, and has thus supplied in his subjoined notes much that will prove acceptable to his more critical readers, while the explanatory observations and pious reflections, which constitute the principal part of the work, are well adapted to inform the mind and elevate the affections of every devout Christian. We should be glad to gratify our readers by giving several extracts, but can only make room for the following:

"The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.

THOUGH it is certain that "all Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and "By the words or sayings of Jehovah is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, may be understood, either his faithful profor correction, for instruction in righte-mises or the truths of inspiration in general.

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