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That there is much wisdom and goodness in the conduct of God towards us, in executing the sentence of death upon such a multitude of the human race in a state of infancy, cannot, I think, reasonably be doubted. It is indeed a sorrowful scene, to behold our children agonizing in disease and death; but it serves more deeply to convince us of the awful nature of sin, and effectually to endear to us the Saviour of sinners, who died that we might have life. It helps to wean our hearts from the world, and from the love of the present life; and to direct our thoughts to heaven. It also serves to explain to us the only ground on which we can hope for salvation. For Jesus Christ himself has said: "Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein" Mark x. 15.

A very little reflection will convince us, that children cannot enter the kingdom of God as innocent creatures, for they die as sinners; and had they lived would have been like their fathers, a rebellious race. But Jesus died for sinners: they mast therefore be accepted in him, who suf fered for sin, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God.

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To talk of ought we can do towards obtaining salvation, is plainly to declare, that we expect admission into heaven, on a different ground from that on which infants are received; for they never did any thing to obtain it; but in them is fulfilled that saying of the Apostle: "The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord."

In vain shall we expect heaven for the performance of our duties; or as a reward for our sufferings. If we attain heaven at all, it will be in the same way that infants go thither; purely by grace, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. This is the way taught in our Bible, and there is no other way. How gracious is our heavenly Father, to use so many means to direct our attention heavenward; and to teach us the way thither! How natural for parents who have buried their children in infancy, to look forward to the time when they will meet them again.

They err, who tell us love can die ; ·
With life all other passions fly,
All others are bat vanity.

In Heaven ambition cannot dwell,
Nor avarice in the vaults of hell;
Earthly these passions of the earth,

They perish where they had their birth;
But love is indestructible.

Its holy flame for ever burneth,

From heav'n it came; to heav'n returneth;
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
At times deceiv'd, at times opprest;
It here is tried and purified,

Then hath in heav'n its perfect rest:
It soweth here, with toil and care,
But th' harvest time of love is there.
Oh! when the mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy,

Hath she not then for pains and fears,
The day of woe, the watchful night,
For all her sorrows, all tears,

An over payment of delight?'

In bringing up a family, how often are we reminded of the trouble and anguish which our parents endured on our account. In the conduct of my children, I have often been struck with the exact picture of myself; and have frequently remembered, with compunction, the sorrows which I have occasioned thee, my mo ther. And when I followed thee to thy grave, and recollected the difficulties and sorrows through which thou hadst passed; and that thou hadst followed many of thy children to the tomb,-O! what unutterable feelings took possession of my heart. I sorrowed indeed-but, blessed be God! not like those without hope. O, my dear friend, how delightful is that

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thought: She sleeps in Jesus!' Her happy spirit is gone, to join the spirits of the just made perfect.

Or does she seek, or has she found her babe,
Amongst the infant-nation of the blest,
And clasp'd it to her soul, to satiate there
The young maternal passion, and absolve
The unfulfill'd embrace? Thrice happy child!
That saw the light, and turn'd its eves aside
From our dim regions to th' eternal sun,
And led the parent's way to glory! There
Thou art for ever her's, with powers enlarg'd
For love, reciprocal and sweet converse.

Ah me! where roves my fancy! what kind dreams
Crowd with sweet violence on my waking mind!

Perhaps she sings
To some new golden harp th' Almighty deeds,

The names, the honours of her Saviour-God,
His cross, his grave, his victory, and his crown:
Oh could I imitate th' exalted notes,
And mortal ears could bear them'!'

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Are we not following in the same path ? Do we not expect to enjoy the same happiness? Let us then keep the prizein view; and wait patiently all the days of our appointed time, till our change come.

When death visits a family, he sometimes makes his approaches so gradually, that we are prepared for the stroke, and it passes by almost insensibly: at other times, he seizes his victim so suddenly, that we are overwhelmed in the calamity before we aware. But the former case is much more frequent than the latter.

Among my acquaintances, I have seen many amiable and excellent young married women, whose constitutions were gradually undermined by disease, tiil, past hope of recovery, and patiently resigned to God in the hope of being accepted in Jesus Christ, compassion for them, has made all their friends look forward with desire, for the time of their dissolution.

I have witnessed many snatched away so suddenly, as to surprise every one that knew them. I have seen fathers, left with a number of little children, deprived of their mothers;-and mothers, left with a number of little children, deprived of their fathers. Some of these, have sunk gradually under the power of disease, and some of them have been cut off as in a moment. The sorrows occasioned by these scenes are doubtless of the most exquisite kind. But God, (who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,') mixes the cup of sorrow with a variety of ingredients, which makes it far more palatable than it seems to be. This idea may receive illustration from some beautiful lines in Montgomery's Poems:

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