the popular contempt, by accompanying the missionaries to the ship; no minister of Christ was there to cheer them by his parting blessing; no public parting prayer commended Judson and Newell, and their devoted wives, to the God of the winds and the waves, when they went on board the Caravan, and retired in sadness of heart to their lonely cabin, to implore strength from on high to sustain them in that hour of trial. Yet, notwithstanding all, they made the sacrifice. They heard the voice of their Master calling them, and they went at the bidding of their Lord.*

In a brief address at the Cannon-street Baptist Church, New-York, in November last, uttered in a feeble voice by Dr. Judson, and reported to the congregation by the Rev. Henry Davis, the pastor, the veteran missionary remarked: "I have frequently read, and often heard it asserted, that modern missions are a failure. Thirty-three years ago," said he, "there was but very little interest felt by Christians in this laud, for the perishing heathen. When your missionaries left your shores, very few were willing to be known as approving of their enterprize. Two young men, about to go far hence to the heathen, on the morning of their departure from their native land, were addressed by the Secretary of a Missionary Society, as they sat at his breakfast table, as follows: 'Brethren, I have business that demands my attention to-day in a neighboring town; you will therefore have to excuse me from going with you to your vessel ?' Those young men went silently and alone; and though there was not a minister who was willing to hazard his reputation, by

If any doubt the strength of those ties which these devoted missionaries severed, for the sake of Christ and of the heathen, let them read the following touching and beautiful entry of Mrs. Judson in her journal, on the day of embarkation; and the extract which follows, from an entry made a few days later, at sea: "Still my heart bleeds. O America! my native land; must I leave thee? Must I leave my parents, my sisters and brother, my friends beloved, and all the scenes of my early youth? Must I leave thee, Bradford, my dear native town; where I spent the pleasant years of childhood; where I learnt to lisp the name of my mother; where my infant mind first began to expand; where I learnt the endearments of friendship, and tasted of all the happiness this world can afford; where I learnt also to value a Saviour's blood, and to count all things but loss, in comparison with the knowledge of him? Yes, I must leave

countenancing what was regarded as an enthusiastic enterprize, yet when they threw themselves on their knees in their lonely cabin, they heard, or felt, a voice, saying: You are not alone, for I am with you.'-Now, when missionaries return to their native land, such is the interest taken in the cause of missions, that the largest houses of worship are crowded with multitudes, anxious to see and to hear them; and they are welcomed by the smiles and greetings of thousands, and of hundreds of thousands. Does this look as if modern missions were a failure ?"

you all, for a heathen land, and uncongenial clime. Farewell, happy, happy scenes- - but never, no, never to be forgotten.”

"Feb. 27.-I spent some time this evening on deck. The weather was pleasant; the motion of the vessel gentle, though rapid; the full moon shone clearly on the water; and all things around conspired to excite pleasing, though melancholy sensations. My native land, my home, my friends, and all my forsaken enjoyments, rushed into my mind; my tears flowed profusely; and I could not be comforted. Soon, however, the consideration of having left all these for the dear cause of Christ, and the hope of being, one day, instrumental of leading some poor degraded females to embrace him as their Saviour, soothed my griefs, dried up my tears, and restored tranquillity to my mind."

Thus keenly did those devoted missionaries feel the sacrifice they were making, and thus cheerfully did they make that sacrifice for the sake of Christ and the perishing heathen.

"Jesus, I my cross have taken,

All to leave and follow thee,
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,

Thou, from hence, my all shall be.”

THE MISSIONARY FOR THE LAST TIME AT THE FAMILY ALTAR.

I SAW them as they slowly gathered round
To burn the morning incense to the Lord.
Sweet o'er each humble soul, the heavenly Dove
Hover'd with peaceful wing. Devotion's fire
Now kindled to a flame :-on every brow
Its mellow radiance shed; yet they were sad.
Fond sisters look'd and wept; the brother's cheek
Where time, the seal of manhood firm, had stamp'd,
Was moistened by a tear: the mother, too,
Meek, humble, and resigned, covered her face
And wept; and e'en the godly sire, whose hope
Was on the Rock of Ages built, the sigh
Could not suppress, as on the sacred page
The tear unconscious fell.-

Has Death, with ruthless hand, some tender tie,
That bound together souls of kindred mould,
Too rudely snapp'd? Or is the roseate cheek
Of youth and beauty, by the chilling touch
Of sickness, bleach'd? Ah! no; the holy love
That brought, from Heaven's high throne to sinful

earth,

The Lord of life and glory, sweetly caused

Those hallowed tears to flow.

The last command

Of Him, who, o'er the grave, victorious, rose,

Is echoed from afar: two tender hearts,

Melted by love divine, haste to obey

The Saviour's heavenly mandate. They have heard

The thrilling strains, by seraphs sweetly sung, When to the swains of Bethlehem they announc'd The tidings of salvation : their full hearts

With holy love o'erflowed, and (angel-like)
They long'd a Saviour's dying love to tell.
Awhile on childhood's happy home they gazed;
Then turn'd, and, to their cov'nant God, resigned,
With cheerful hearts, their ALL.

They prayed, they wept; but oh! how impotent Is language to portray a scene like this!

No heart which has not felt its power, can know : But, sure, if fervent prayer, meekly submissive, Much avails with God, that prayer was heard in Heaven." ANON.

PARTING WORDS TO A MISSIONARY.

Go! thou messenger of Heaven,

Bound for Asia's burning shore;

Tell of sins by blood forgiven,

Take the heaven-sent message o'er;
Some will listen;

Tell the tidings o'er and o'er.

Home and country — would they bind thee?

Would they urge thy guilty stay?

Look not, look not once behind thee;

Onward- onward lies thy way;

Farewell, stranger!

Hasten! onward lies thy way.