WAY-WORN PILGRIM.

Way-worn pilgrim, child of fears,
Cease thy sorrows, dry thy tears;
Earth has pierced thee: reft, alone,
Urge to heaven that bitter moan.
Pilgrim, wanderer, though thou be,
Heaven shall soothe thy agony;
Soon that pulse shall throb no more:
But heaven has life, when life is o'er;
Soon thou shalt thy Saviour see,
Soon shalt with thy Saviour be,
For this mortal shall be free,
Clothed with immortality.

List, ye weary; list, ye faint:
List, the martyr and the saint;

Ye who tremble, ye who sigh,
Ye who, living, daily die,

Pleased to tread to meet your God,

The path of thorns your Saviour trod;
List from heaven that Saviour's voice,
Which bids you, midst your tears, rejoice;
That tells of worlds to earth unknown,
And calls those blissful worlds your own.
Yes, ye shall your Saviour see,
Soon shall with that Saviour be,
Where this mortal shall be free,
Clothed with immortality.

ANON

MY REST IS IN HEAVEN.

H. T. LYTE.

My rest is in heaven, my rest is not here,
Then why should I tremble when trials are near?
Be hushed, my sad spirit, the worst that can come,
But shortens thy journey, and hastens thee home.

It is not for me to be seeking my bliss,

Or building my hopes in a region like this;
I look for a city that hands have not piled,
I pant for a country by sin undefiled.

The thorn and the thistle around me may grow,
I would not lie down upon roses below;
I ask not my portion, I seek not my rest,
Till I find them for ever on Jesus's breast.

Afflictions may press me, they cannot destroy,
One glimpse of His love turns them all into joy ;
And the bitterest tears, if He smile but on them,
Like dew in the sunshine, grow diamond and gem.

Let doubt, then, and danger, my progress oppose,
They only make heaven more sweet at its close;
Come joy, or come sorrow, whate'er may befall,
An hour with my God will make up for all.

A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand,
I march on in haste, through an enemy's land;
The road may be rough, but it cannot be long,
And I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with
song.

8KETCHES OF MISSIONARY LIFE.

No. XI.-THE DARK CLOUDS BREAKING.

EDITOR.

"Ye feeblu saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread,
Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.'

Cowper.

THOUGH the missionaries had left Oung-penlay, their sufferings were by no means at an end. The dark clouds still hung over them, though they were soon to break in blessings on their heads. Mr. Judson was still in the hands of the government officers. He was soon, however, dispatched to the Burmese camp, at Maloon, where he remained six weeks, acting in the capacity of translator and interpreter. In his absence, Mrs. J. was seized with the spotted fever, which had well-nigh ended her sorrows and her life. She lost her reason, became insensible, had her head shaved, and her feet covered with blisters, and at length was so far

gone, that the Burmese neighbors, who had come in to see her expire, said: "She is dead; and if the king of angels should come in, he could not recover her."

More than a month elapsed after she recovered her reason before she was able to stand. At length she was informed that Mr. Judson had returned to Ava, had been re-conducted to prison, and that the report was, that he was to be sent back to Oung-pen-lay. Referring to this additional shock, she says: "I was too weak to bear ill tidings of any kind; but a shock so dreadful as this almost annihilated me. For some time I could hardly breathe; but at last gained sufficient composure to dispatch Moung Ing to our friend, the governor of the north gate, and begged him to make one more effort for the release of Mr. Judson, and prevent his being sent back to the country prison, where I knew he must suffer much, as I could not follow. Moung Ing then went in search of Mr. Judson; and it was nearly dark, when he found him in the interior of an obscure prison. I had sent food early in the afternoon, but being unable to find him, the bearer had returned with it, which added another pang to my distresses, as I feared he was already sent to Oung-pen-lay.

If I ever felt the value and efficacy of prayer,

I did at this time. I could not rise from my couch; I could make no efforts to secure my husband; I could only plead with that great and powerful Being who has said: 'Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will hear, and thou shalt glorify me;' and who made me at this time feel so powerfully this promise, that I became quite composed, feeling assured that my prayers would be answered."

Nor was this confidence in God misplaced. The hour of complete deliverance from these dreadful trials was at hand. The English army had penetrated far up the Irrawaddy, and were rapidly approaching Ava. The capital was in a dreadful state of alarm, and the government was at length convinced that some speedy measures must be taken to save "the golden city." Judson and Price were now sought out, and their assistance requested in inducing the English general to grant a peace. Dr. Price was sent as an ambassador to the English camp. He returned with a demand from Sir Archibald Campbell of a hundred lacks of rupees, or about five millions of dollars, to be paid in four instalments, and the release of all the white prisoners, including the American missionaries. The king objected to the release of the latter, and said "they are not English, they are my people, and shall not