it. He could not be religious without it; his heart could not keep near to God without it; it would soon be estranged from Him; it would be overgrown with weeds, if it were not looked to ever and anon. He would soon be defective in his knowledge; he would soon forget the purpose that he takes to himself. Therefore the Sabbath is made for man. That is, one day wherein the Lord commands him to set aside all other business, and to attend His service.-Preston's God's AllSufficiency, pp. 105, 106. Edit. 1630.

No. XLIV.

"Thou shalt swear, The Lord liveth, in truth, in judgment, and in righteousness.” (Jeremiah iv. 2.)

In truth, taking heed that our meaning be conformable to the sense of our words, and our words to the verity of things; in judgment, having with careful deliberation examined and weighed that which we assert or promise; in righteousness, being satisfied in conscience, that we do not therein infringe any rule of piety toward God, of equity toward men, of sobriety and discretion in regard to ourselves.

The cause of our swearing must be needful, or very expedient; the design of it must be honest and useful to considerable purposes,-tending to God's honour, our neighbour's benefit, our own welfare; the matter of it should be not only just and lawful, but worthy and weighty; the

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manner ought to be grave and solemn, our mind being framed to earnest attention, and endued with pious affections suitable to the occasion.

Otherwise, if we do venture to swear, without due advice and care, without much respect and awe, upon any slight or vain (not to say bad or unlawful) occasion; we then desecrate swearing, and are guilty of profaning a most sacred ordinance: the doing so doth imply base hypocrisy, or lewd mockery, or abominable wantonness and folly; in boldly invading, and vainly trifling with, the most august duties of religion. Such swearing, therefore, is very dishonourable and injurious to God, very prejudicial to religion, very repugnant to piety.-Barrow's Works, vol. i., pp. 422, 423. Edit. 1830.

No. XLV.

"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!" (Psalm cxxxiii. 1.)

As the amity and converse with friends is pleasant, and the concord of families is their quietness and ease, so is it as to the amity and concord which is the bond of church-society; and the divisions and discord of Christians is their mutual pain and trouble. Do you not feel your minds disturbed by it? Do you not see the church discomposed by it?-Baxter's Cure of Church Divisions, p. 73. Edit. 1670.

SINGING IN SABBATH-SCHOOLS. On this important subject we have received a letter from the Rev. James Grose, of Southwark, which will amply repay the attentive consideration of all our Sabbath-school friends.

To the Editor of the "Christian
Miscellany."

SIR,Of late years a good deal of attention has been devoted in our Sabbath-schools to the cultivation of music among the scholars. By inducing as many of them as possible to unite in singing the hymns at the beginning, VOL. V.-Second Series.

middle, and end of the school-hours, and by forming them into singing-classes on week-evenings under the management of competent instructers, a considerable amount of musical ability has been developed. And by the same means, the olden notion that only a few in comparison of the whole are born with the "gift" to sing, has been brought into merited disrepute. One consequence of these efforts has been, that now many more juvenile voices delightfully blend with those of adults, and we are favoured with more general congregational singing than formerly. It is notorious that in

C

Yorkshire and Lancashire, where singing has been regarded for more than a generation as an integral part of Sabbath-school instruction, we have not only the best schools, but far better and more general singing in our chapels than in the other parts of the kingdom. Considering the vast importance of congregational singing, and of the younger portion of our congregations uniting in it, we cannot estimate too highly the labours of those who have been engaged in promoting this object.

To persons of musical taste and ability, it has long been a subject of regret that so few of the publications containing music designed for youthful worship are worthy of adoption. Some of them contain airs of so light and fantastic a character, as to be utterly unsuitable to the worship of God, their manifest tendency being to lower respect for the Sabbath in the minds of the children, as well as to beget a permanent distaste of that more sedate and majestic psalmody which ought to prevail in the services of the sanctuary. Others of them, besides containing airs of this objectionable character, have harmonies so vicious, so contrary to the syntax of music, so opposed to all the rules which regulate the progression of chords, that they can scarcely fail to injure the musical 66 ear," so as to render it incapable in after-life of appreciating the beauty of good harmony, or of distinguishing between that which is good and that which is bad.

A good compilation, containing such airs as shall prepare the juvenile heart for the enjoyment of the psalmody suited to public worship, and those airs accompanied by such harmonies as shall train the ear to appreciate good music, has long been a felt want. This desideratum, I rejoice to say, is at length supplied. The work noticed in the last Number of your valuable "Miscellany," called "The Wesleyan Sunday-School Tune-Book," compiled by Mr. Hubbard, and published at our Book-Room, is admirably calculated to accomplish the objects I have mentioned. If you can do anything to bring this meritorious publication into general use in our schools, you will be conferring a real benefit upon the children, and be taking an important step

1. It is adapted to the numerous metres of our new Sunday-School Hymn-Book, -a collection of hymns so simple in their style, yet so free from doggerel, so truly poetic, so pure in taste, so evangelical in sentiment, and so varied and comprehensive in its range of subjects, as to be second to none of that class in the language. But for many of these beautiful hymns there were either no tunes known as suited to their metres, or those which were known partook largely of the objections to which reference has been made. We needed, therefore, a collection of tunes suited to, and worthy of, this little publication; and as this Hymn-Book is becoming popular in our Sabbath-schools, it is a matter for congratulation that we have now a collection of tunes not only adapted to its several metres, but likewise deserving of universal adoption. I need scarcely add that a collection of tunes suited to that Hymn-Book is almost equally suited to every other.

2. It contains a goodly number of the tunes which are common in those congregations where sound judgment prevails in the selection of the music, and which are adapted to the more prevalent metres of our chapel-hymns. By learning such tunes as these, the children will be able to unite with the "great congregation" in singing the praises of God, and be gradually prepared for the enjoyment of that important part of public worship.

3. The tunes which are appropriated to the peculiar metres of this little HymnBook are not, on the one hand, so light and secular as to be unbecoming the sanctity of the Sabbath, nor, on the other, so stately and solemn as those which are regarded as most suitable for the service of the sanctuary. While adapted to youthful feelings, they are yet calculated to preserve those who use them from a vicious and frivolous taste. The child that has once mastered these tunes, and learned to appreciate their excellencies, will be sure to enjoy their music, will be fond of singing them when alone, will not easily tire of them, and will, if kept

for a few years from inferior compositions, be rendered incapable in after-life of enjoying any but good ones; an object greatly to be desired.

4. The harmonies of these tunes are thoroughly and scientifically good. They are such as no professor of music would object to. Yet they are so simple, so free from complexity, and so easy of being learned, as to be within the reach of every ordinary capacity.

It would, however, be too much to hope that in all our schools this TuneBook will become, at once, so popular as it deserves to be. In many of them the musical attainments of the Teachers are but slender; and it is a well-known fact that the excellencies of good music are seldom detected at first sight by any but connoisseurs. Not unfrequently the greater are the merits of the composition, the more skill is required to make them apparent. Many of the tunes of this book, which are suited to the peculiar metres, have excellencies of a high order, but they are not of that superficial kind which lies on the surface, tickles the ear, delights an uncultivated taste for awhile, and then ceases to interest: they are more concealed, more substantial, more enduring; but on that account they require

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attention and familiarity in order to be duly appreciated.

There are also many Sabbath-school Teachers, who have imbibed a strong prejudice in favour of light and fantastic airs, believing them to be the only ones that can interest children. This is a great mistake. No professor of music of real skill introduces, except very sparingly, airs of this description to the notice of his pupils, knowing them to be ill-calculated to secure proficiency, to elevate the taste, or to correct the judgment. He places before his pupils that which is a little beyond their present powers of execution, yet not so far beyond, but that by a reasonable amount of application they may be able to master it; and he never fails to witness the joy of triumph as soon as they have accomplished their object. If our Sunday-school authorities will persevere in teaching the tunes contained in this Tune-Book, and in training the scholars to understand and appreciate their beauties, they will confer an obligation which those scholars will acknowledge in years to come, and will likewise do much towards promoting good singing in our public congregations.

I remain, &c.

THE DYING SAILOR,*

Ar first when Andrew Miller came under serious impressions, he supposed to knock off drinking and swearing was all that was required of him; but, having felt that the religion of Jesus Christ is something beyond mere outward reformation, he sought and found redemption in Christ Jesus, the forgiveness of his sins, and began to follow after holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. For nearly twelve months his walk and conversation became his high profession; and then his brief career suddenly closed. The sickness which terminated his life was,

From a narrative by Lieut. Rhind, R.N., in "The British Flag."

however, of that kind which left him not only in the undisturbed possession of his mental faculties, but which drained away his life so gradually as to leave him for many weeks on the bed of pain; and thus was his sincerity tested. The following are some of his dying remarks:

"I am astonished," said he one morning to a friend, "to find myself here. Surely there is no end to the mercy of God. How is it I was not cut off in my sin? Many a time the shots have passed so near me as to draw water from my eyes; nay, I have been knocked down by them, but never was hurt, except a scratch or two. I fell twice from the topsail-yard, and twice down the fore-hatch, and I have been overboard in gales of wind: once in

the Bay of Biscay I was nearly gone, and once off Bermuda, and still I am alive. O, if I had gone any of those times, I should have gone to hell! and now, glory be to God, I am going to heaven."

"It is a blessed thing to make a good landfall when the voyage of life is drawing towards its close, Andrew," said his visiting friend.

“O, it is, it is! and I may truly say I have had the land aboard ever since I was laid up here. It's the looming of the hills of glory that cheers my soul; and it matters not how rough the voyage has been, since I have got into a good roadstead, and the port is right under my lee. Ah! Sir, when they used to carry me down into the sick bay, though I have seen them dying around me, and I did not then know how it would go with myself, yet my heart was as hard as a stone; but now it's so soft I can cry like a child."

"O my dear Pastor," he said one day, "I am sure they will never tire of praising God in heaven; for even such a poor feeble creature as I, who cannot raise my head off this pillow, nor turn a limb, am not tired of praising Him all night; and I say, then I'll praise Him all day: I don't know what it is to be tired. I am never weary, bless God, as it isn't my tongue as is sore, it's only my bowels: my tongue's good, and my heart 's good, and my head's good; so, if I cannot stir, I can praise. If I am stuck here to this bed, like as if I was lashed to it, that's no reason why I should be silent: if my body's afflicted, my soul is saved; and haven't I great reason to praise God? I have everything to praise Him for: they may call this a bed of sickness, but I would not change it for Lord Derby's chair, nor all he's worth, no, nor all the world's wealth. Is it not better to step out of a bed of sickness into the kingdom of glory, than to step out of a palace into the lake that burns with unquenchable fire? Is it not better to begin with shame and end with honour, than to begin with honour and end with shame; especially when what you begin with endures but for a moment, but what you end with is for ever and ever? I am come to Mount Calvary. I have but another anchor to heave, and then I am off with a flowing sheet to the land of

endless bliss.
sinner as me? I cannot think it.
'I the chief of sinners am;

Was there ever such a

But Jesus died for me.'

"I praise God, my dear Pastor, that ever He put it into your heart to care for sailors. I pray night and day that thousands may be your rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus."

"I am close-hauled," said he on one occasion, with a smile; "but I hold a good wind. The pirates hove in sight this morning, but I spied the black flag and marrow-bone. One of them ranged alongside; but I poured a broadside into him; and he sheered off again. You are a horrible sinner,' said he; but I stopped his mouth quickly. 'I know that,' said I:

1 the chief of sinners am;
But Jesus died for me.'

O Sir, what should I do with these fellows if it were not for the witness of the Spirit ? Sometimes I have them on all sides, like a swarm of bees, and then I run up my red ensign to the main, and they are off like smoke."

Another time he said, "I pray that God may spare you many, many years: it's you that knows how to come round us poor fellows: may God bless you, and reward you a thousand-fold. Ah, Sir! you know what we are: may God bless you for stooping to such lost creatures. I love to talk to you, because I can talk in my own way. All don't understand

me."

To another Christian friend, who visited him, he said, "It was a happy day for me, when first I went to hear our beloved Pastor." When asked on what he built his hopes of heaven, "On the Rock, on the Rock," he replied. "I know that my Redeemer liveth ;" and, breaking into a transport of joy, he sang aloud,—

"My soul, through my Redeemer's care,

Saved from the second death I feel,
My eyes from tears of dark despair,
My feet from falling into hell.
"Wherefore to Him my feet shall run;
My eyes on His perfections gaze;
My soul shall live for God alone;

And all within me shout His praise."

The last time his friend saw him, he was very feeble. At his desire the Lord's

supper was administered to him. On being asked if he was happy, he said, "I have never been anything else since I have known the Lord; nobody ever heard me murmur at being laid up here; this bed is a bed of roses to me; the happiest time of my life has been since I have been laid up here; I have been in heaven all these weeks." His frame was reduced to a mere skeleton; but his eye was full of fire, and his countenance of animation. He motioned for his friend to draw near him, for his voice was low. "I mean to cross the bar," said he, “all standing, studding-sails, royals, and sky-sails, and fire a royal salute as I run in my last breath on earth, and my first in glory, shall praise Him. I can only think of one thing now. O the greatness of His love! I am persuaded there is nothing greater or more surprising in heaven. There is nothing will ever astonish me more, than that He should bring such a sinner as me to see Him as He is. You will be praising Him still in our blessed little Zion, and some may think that my lips are silent in the dust; but your Andrew will be praising Him louder than you all. God

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bless you! God bless you! Never give up the sailors."

He died on the 14th of June, 1837; and his end was indeed triumphantly glorious. In the former course of his life he had been exceedingly dissolute, and, like too many of his class, much addicted to drinking. The most serious accidents he had met with were the consequences of intoxication. How astonishing was the change that the grace of God effected! When the Christian brother alluded to above, who frequently visited him, asked him on one occasion if he was harassed with doubts, "No," he emphatically exclaimed: "after such a heart as mine has been changed, what room can there be for doubts? I feel it here; and that's my answer when the tempter comes." To his friend he expressed himself to the same effect. "I have had a heavy strain or two," said he; "but my ground-tackling is good; and, when the breeze freshened, I began to pay away more of my cable, and with the long service I rode easy enough till slack tide, and then I hove short, and got under weigh again, and now I am once more in deep water."

THE BANKS OF THE TEIGN.
No. VII.

The cottage-homes of England!

By thousands on her plains,

They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,

And round the hamlet-fanes.
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves,
And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the birds beneath their eaves.

We were on the summit of Haldon, where, leaning over the top of a gate, I felt as if my eye could repose for ever on the calm beauties of the landscape beneath. In the far back-ground, which closely borders on Dartmoor, were clustering peaks, and swells, and broken ledges, standing witnesses to the upheavings and volcanic outbreaks, which marked the period when that mysterious region of intermingled granites and slates, syenites and greenstones, rose from the

deep, and felt the first greetings of the sunlight. Nearer to the sight was a branch valley, whose most distant charms melted into the deep verdure of the heights which overshadowed an old bridge on the Teign; while the bright strip of land which formed its bed caught the view immediately below, where it came out from behind a projecting ridge, now smiling at the touch of an evening ray, and, passing on with a gentle sweep, it gracefully covered the foot of each guardian hill with its woody fringes; the winding course of its little rivulet being shown by a verdant thread of hazel-bushes and alder. Here and there a white cottage peeped from the green shelter of its garden or orchard, and called up from one's soul a blessing on the peasant-homes of England; and, in this case, the blessing was the more heartily given, from the certainty that the enchantment of a