of humanity is a want of justice. The Father of the universe lends blessings to us with a view that we should relieve a brother in distress; and we consequently do more than pay a debt when we perform an act of benevolence. Paid the stranger's reckoning out of the shilling in my pocket, and gave him the remainder of the money to prosecute his journey. Friday. A very scanty dinner, and pretended therefore to be ill, that, by avoiding to eat, I might leave something like enough for my poor wife and children. I told my wife what I had done with this shilling; the excellent creature, instead of blaming me for the action, blessed the goodness of my heart, and burst into tears. Mem. Never to contradict her as long as I live; for a mind that can argue like hers, though it may deviate from the more rigid sentiments of prudence, is even amiable for its indiscretion; and, in every lapse from the severity of economy, performs an act of virtue superior to the value of a kingdom. Saturday. Wrote a sermon, which on Sunday I preached at four different parish churches, and came home excessively hungry-no more than twopence halfpenny in the house. But see the goodness of God: the strolling player whom I had relieved was a man of fortune, who accidentally heard I was indigent; and, from a generous eccentricity of temper, wanted to do me an essential piece of service. I had not been an hour at home when he comes in and declares himself my friend, and puts a fifty pound note in my hand, and the next day presented me with a living of three hundred pounds a year.-London Evangelical Maga zine. "AMEN."-The Hebrews have a saying, that whosoever says "amen" with all his might opens the doors of paradise. For the Youth's Magazine A SABBATH EVENING'S REMINISCENCE. "When therefore he was risen from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this unto them."-John ii, 25. THIS text came to my mind with peculiar force, and it was an hour and a scene to inspire meditation. The sun was setting gloriously, and his parting rays tinged the clouds floating in the eastern horizon with gorgeous hues, while their rainbow tints were again reflected on the purpłe hills, with the peaceful river winding at their feet. A sabbath stillness was spread over every object. No sound was heard but the vesper-hymn of the birds, and the soft rustling of the trees and shrubs as the air gently stirred their flexile branches. It was after he had "risen from the dead his disciples remembered what he had said unto them." The words of the Saviour often fell upon careless or uninterested ears,-but afterward they were remembered. Not a sentence he ever uttered was lost. The Holy Spirit, given them after his ascension, recalled the precious truths distilled from his sacred lips, and impressed them upon their awakened minds. They are not lost-the words of inspiration communicated to the infant mind from the mother's lip of love. At first they may almost seem unheard, for the din of the world often overpowers "the voice of the charmer;" yet goodly seed is sown in the heart, which will eventually spring up, and when matured by the rays of the Sun of righteousness and the dews of the Holy Spirit, will bear much fruit. This was my own case; and as "opened all the cells where memory slept," I was carried back to my childhood's days. I thought of the infant prayer at my mother's knee; the lisped hymn, and the touching Scripture story from that mother's lips. Her Sunday evening instructions too came back to my mind. She was in the habit of assembling her children and servants together in her room after tea, and hearing us repeat the texts of the day, with as much of the sermon as we could remember. Our hymns and catechism were then recited. This done she would read a chapter of the Bible, and explain it to us in her own most graphic and affectionate manner. Thus an interest was given to those passages which make them to this day appear more interesting than any other portion of the Scriptures. Precious are these remembrances! linked with all most dear and cherished by the heart! Every feature of that hour has often, amid distant scenes, come over my soul like a dream of heaven. The room in which we sat with its window richly curtained with wreaths of glycena; the fruit-trees before the window; the grass-plot beneath it; even the bed-curtains on which were pictured stories which used to excite my childish wonder and admiration; the old-fashioned mahogany table where lay the volume that was the guide and director of my dear parents' thoughts and lives. But with these hallowed associations came thoughts of the past that filled me with sorrow and remorse. I remembered a season when, entranced by pleasure and at a distance from any dear mother's care, I seemed to slight her faithful instructions, although they would at times "sit upon my soul" with power. I recalled an evening, or rather a morning, for it was 4 o'clock, when I returned from a brilliant assembly, languid and exhausted, feeling, like Bruce when he exclaimed, “And is this all?" that dissatisfaction which always accompanies the attainment of any merely earthly desire. My eye glanced upon my Bible-my neglected Bible-my mother's parting gift. It lay upon the toilet, almost concealed by flowers, ribands, and the various et cetera which cover the dressing-table of a fashionable lady. I took it up, and eagerly opened it, as if my satiated heart could there find refreshment, my wearied spirits repose. Here I sat for some time, reading promises in which I knew I had no interest, and, strange as it may seem, the Bible scarcely ever seemed more true and more precious than at that hour; its simplicity and purity affording so striking a contrast to the polished falsehood and refined pollution of the atmosphere I had been breathing. This part of my life, gilded only with "lights which led astray," passed over, and at an early age I was called to realize joy quenched in tears, and hope setting in darkness; to find all I had grasped on earth perishing dust in my hand, and, stricken and amazed, to cry, "Who will show me any good?" The cry was heard, and in that season of anguish a portion of Scripture, dwelt upon by my dear mother, led me to look to Him who receiveth "the weary and heavy laden." Then I felt the value of those instructions from her lips in early life. What might have been the result if, before those hours of darkness, I had never heard of one who "healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds !". A calm and happy lot became my own, and I thought the words of life were precious as I taught them to my children, and outwardly walked in my mother's footsteps. But I had not her simple mind, her single eye, that “simplicity and godly sincerity" which are the highest attainment in the school of Christ, and I needed to be purified even with fire. To one beloved object my heart clung with fondest devotion. To me he seemed "To show whate'er was fairest, brightest, best He was smitten-taken, no doubt, to draw my heart more nearly to his glorious home. But even in the closing struggle his lips would have breathed forth consolation to our agonized spirits in the words of inspiration; words that his mother's lips had taught him in the season of life and health. Where could I turn for comfort? My heart was a sealed sepulchre, and thick darkness covered me. But again the word of God came to my relief, dispelling the gloom of despair. I remembered my mother's conduct under a similar bereavement. She, too, wept over her first-born son, and the words of life were her solace. She gathered us around her, and read the twelfth chapter of Hebrews. She pointed us to my brother, amid “the spirits of the just made perfect," and we prayed to possess her faith in "Jesus, the Mediator of the new covenant," to whom she exhorted us to look in the spring-time of our lives. And there too I found comfort. I realized that those who "slept in Jesus" should be raised in immortal beauty; that "corruptible would put on incorruption, and mortal immortality," and I " comforted myself with these words." O! never can we prize the Bible fully till hours such as this, when the absence of our beloved ones has made our earthly homes desolate. There is but one source of information respecting their present abode; the Scriptures that tell us of "a city without foundations, whose builder and maker is God," which declare to us that they are possessed of pleasures there that "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard." Let us then diligently and perseveringly endeavour to impress a love for the Bible upon the hearts of our children, and its word upon their memories, thus furnishing them with an exhaustless treasure amid all the vicissitudes of life; and let the youthful mind prize that friend which appears most valuable amid the wreck of earthly hopes; a friend which fills the dark grave with light, and is a sure support even in the hour of nature's extremest agony. January, 1840. MARY. Many men's estates come in at the door, and go out at the chimney. VOL. III.-2 |