to Himself. *** His dear mother has been spared the sorrow, and now has the joy of receiving him."

Again, "What a precious treasure is accumulating for us in the presence of God; how many are waiting to rejoice with us! and yet I desire to look forward, not so much to the rejoicing in meeting them again, as to the joy of beholding the King in his beauty. * * * Blessed be God for his Gospel, and blessed also be his name that He has made us to know it; and I add, Blessed be God for those years of happiness which He allowed me to spend with my dear, dear wife, and for the dear children He has given me, one of whom, as a sort of first fruits, He has already taken home: I have a strong assurance that He will hear our prayers for the conversion of the other two." Such is the blessedness of Christian experience! Such is the calm assurance and patient trust of the tried servants of God! That grace which was sufficient for them is so for those who are in like trials. It is a strength asked for and received; sought and found. It is from above, and it raises from the light affliction to the eternal weight of glory.

It may be well, in passing from that which is the chief source of the sorrower's consolation, to glance at some lesser helps which seem provided to alleviate the burden. The lessons in an infant's grave are many. The first thought is surprise that one so young should die. Then there is the sympathy for

*

the parent reft of its offspring. It is also humbling that death hath passed upon all, and that some of every age must die. The doctrine of inherited corruption stands forth prominent. Nature seems to set its seal to the truths of revelation. The Bible Christian knows that death came by sin, and that where there is no sin there is no death. The sting of death is sin. Where there is no actual commission of sin and yet there is death, it must be the consequence of inherited, transmitted, or original sin. This may be called the humbling theological lesson of every little one's grave." Furthermore, the voice being unexpected is the more startling; to the young particularly it has a special loudness. It seems as if it would be heard even by the thoughtless. The shock does not convert, but it may gain a hearing for the converting truth, as Bishop Horsley argues in the case of adults. If one to whom God has spared his own children may yet speak of his experience of early impressions, there are few sights more arresting to the young than the cold pale form of the infant prepared for the grave.+ Years may pass, but the sight is not forgotten. A loving parent felt the

* The sceptic's objection is powerfully answered by Mr. Binney in a striking passage.-See Appendix.

What a lesson is this sentence of the uncertainty of all things! In scarcely more than a week from the time at which these words were written, it pleased God, by a most unexpected stroke, to transfer to His own kingdom of glory the writer's youngest darling. "Thy will be done!"

force and the need of the lesson for her children, and obtained permission for them to enter the chamber of the dead. That strange, unearthly, speechless form had a voice to the youthful gazer. There was a deep solemnity in this presence of death. But the voice was louder and the tone more solemn when, a few years after, the messenger called for an infant brother. It was a loud thunder-clap in the early morn of a still Sabbath; how beautifully calm was external nature on that morning, yet what a tempest within the stricken heart! This was the first death in the family. Here was a grief which refused to be comforted. The young heart seemed as if it would burst with sadness; and, knowing but little of its own lightness, dreamed that joy was gone for ever. Questionings of heart and conscience, childlike or childish if you please, arose and doubtless did their work. It was a message from God. Thoughts of death, and judgment, and eternity, were vividly presented; and if, when time passed, the burden of grief became lighter and sorrow had even disappeared, yet that little grave has spoken its lessons. That little mound of turf marked by no gravestone has had its voice. It could not be forgotten. God has spoken by it. It has often whispered in the days of boyhood; yes, and in the hours of manhood. It is the grave of the first in that family who passed into the heavenly Canaan. None have been joined to it there; but the trumpet of the Archangel will

summon the dead from the four winds of Heaven, and gather them in one, if they are in Christ. There is no beauty or romance in the situation ; though the church is a fine structure, like many on that coast, which serve as landmarks. There is nothing to strike in the surrounding scenery, though it is almost within the sound of the mighty waters. To the stranger it may be uninteresting, but not so to those who have an interest in that solitary grave. There are some to whom it is very dear: not because it fastens to itself, but because it links itself to the heavenly. Mortality shall become immortality; corruption incorruption. Then even in God's time shall be brought to pass that which is written" death is swallowed up in victory." "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the Archangel, and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words." *

July 26th, 1858.

P.S.-It cannot but be interesting to the readers of this little selection, to be informed of the dealings of God, in his perfect wisdom and goodness, with

* 1 Thess. iv. 16, 17, 18.

the Author of the foregoing introduction. After several years of more than ordinarily faithful labour in the ministry in the east of London, he was laid aside in the year 1854 by no doubtful indications of spinal paralysis, caused, as it is believed, by his unremitting exertions in his Master's service. He was induced to retire in search of health to the curacy of Blendworth, in the county of Hampshire, where (in the absence of the incumbent from ill health) he laboured far beyond his decreasing strength. When entirely disabled by his disease, so as to be able to use neither hands nor feet, he still preached and lectured from his chair, and dictated constantly to his wife. After a residence of two years at Blendworth, full of profit and usefulness to the parish, he was constrained to give up all further idea of direct work in the ministry, but was for two years more permitted to speak frequently in schoolrooms and in private, and to preach, by his entire resignation to the will of his God and Saviour, many a lesson of faith and patience, which he could not have inculcated so forcibly in the time of his health and strength. While this little book was in progress, during the month of July, and within a few days of his dictating the sentence on page xiii. of the Introduction, speaking of himself as one "to whom God had spared his children,” he was called upon to part with his youngest child, most suddenly and unexpectedly. The little boy, a child of seven