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J. A. W.

“ Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”—John xv. 13.

“In one of his voyages to the West Indies, he had contracted an acquaintance with a black man of the name of Quamina, whom he kindly taught to read. On some occasion he was dispatched to the shore with the boat's crew, of which Quamina was one. On its return to the ship, the boat was upset in the surf, and the sailors were soon swept by the billows from the keel, to which, in the first confusion, they had all adhered. In this extremity, Rushton swam towards a small water-cask, which he saw floating at a distance. Quamina had gained this point of safety before him; and when the generous negro saw that his friend was too much exhausted to reach the cask, he pushed it towards him-bade him good bye—and sank to rise no more. This anecdote Mr. Rushton has often related,-and never without dropping a grateful tear to the memory of Quamina.”(Memoir prefixed to the Poems of the late Edward Rushton, of Liverpool.)

“Pull, pull the oar!- The winds arise:

Each sinew let us strain !
A watery grave before us lies,

Unless our bark we gain!
Quick, furl the sail, and strike the mast,

Bale out the brine with speed-
The tempest round us gathers fast-

Heaven help us in our need!”

'Tis vain! 'tis vain! the pilot's skill,

The rowers' strength, now fail;
And higher swell the billows still,

And louder blows the gale.
To shun the wave the steersman's art

At length is vainly tried;
The hapless crew, with beating heart,

Are cast upon the tide.

Awhile the keel precarious aid

Affords each anxious hand;
But, one by one, benumbed, dismayed,

Drop off the fainting band:
And now, alone, one sable son

Of Afric seems to brave (While fast and fierce the surges run)

With hope each crested wave.

What groan is heard? Yon white man see,

- The humble negro's friend, Is faintly struggling on the lee,

And sinking to his end. “Haste-haste, and seize this floating cask, --

Quamina well can swim : Quamina will of Heaven but ask

His friend to save for him!”

He spake;—and, as he spake, resigned

That aid so hardly won—
Struggled awhile with wave and wind,

But soon his course was run:-

He sank-the ooze of ocean's bed

Became Quamina's bier;
But oft for him one white man shed

Remembering pity's tear.

Yes:-oft within his British home,

The white man told the tale,
How drifting 'mid the ocean's foam,

And sinking 'neath the gale,
That negro friend resigned his life,

To snatch him from the grave; And perisheil in the waters' strife,

A negro's friend to save.

A similar, and still more affecting act of African devotedness, is recorded in Roberts's Life of Hannah More.


(From a Collection of Psalms and Hymns, published by Messrs. Seeley and Co.-Twenty-third Edition.)

“Scarcely for a righteous man will one die : yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die.-But God commendeth his love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."-Rom. v. 7, 8.

If human kindness meets return,

And owns the grateful tie;
If tender thoughts within us burn,

To feel a friend is nigh,

0, shall not warmer accents tell

The gratitude we owe

To Him who died, our fears to quell,

Our more than orphan's woe!

While yet in anguish he surveyed

Those pangs he could not flee; What love his latest words displayed,

Meet, and remember me!”

Remember Thee! thy death, thy shame,

Our sinful hearts to share!
O memory, leave no other name

But His recorded there.



INTERVAL of grateful shade,
Welcome to my hoary head!
Welcome slumber to mine eyes,
Tired with glaring vanities!
My great Master still allows
Needful periods of repose:
By my heavenly Father blest,
Thus I give my powers to rest.
Heavenly Father! gracious Name!
Night and day his love the same:
Far be each suspicious thought,
Every anxious care forgot.

Thou, my ever bounteous God,
Crown'st my days with various good:
Thy kind eye, that cannot sleep,
These defenceless hours shall keep:
Blest vicissitude to me!
Day and night I'm still with Thee.

What though downy slumbers flee,
Strangers to my couch and me?
Sleepless will I go to rest,
Lodged within my Father's breast.
While the empress of the night
Scatters inild her silver light;
While the vivid planets stray
Various through their mystic way;
While the stars unnumbered roll
Round the ever constant pole;
Far above these spangled skies,

soul to God shall rise;
'Mid the silence of the night,
Mingling with those angels bright,
Whose harmonious voices raise
Ceaseless love, and ceaseless praise:
Through the throng his gentle ear
Shall my tuneless accents hear;
From on high he doth impart
Secret comfort to my heart.
He, in these serenest hours,

intellectual powers; And his Spirit doth diffuse, Sweeter far than midnight dews;

Guides my

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