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ing for you; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them—and we have such excellent crean--and everything is so sweet and still here—0!” said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, O, we shall be so happy!”

Poor Leslie was overcome.--He caught her to his bosom-he folded his arms round her-he kissed her again and again-he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity.



O BLEST is he whose arms infold,

A consort virtuous as fair!
Her price is far above the gold

That worldly spirits love to share.
On her, as on a beauteous isle,

Amid life's dark and stormy sea,

In all his trouble, all bis toil,

He rests with deep security.
Even in the night-watch, dark and lone,

The distaff fills her busy hands;
Her husband in the gates is known

Among the elders of the land ; Her household all delight to share

The food and raiment she bestows, – Even she with all a parent's care

Regards their weakness and their woes. Her pitying hand supplies the poor,

The widowed one, the orphan child, Like birds assembled round her door,

When sweeps the winter tempest wild. Her lips with love and wisdom fraught,

Drop, like the honey-comb, their sweets; The young are by her dictates taught,

The mourner her condolence meets.

Her lovely babes around her rise-

Fair scions of a holy stem!
And deeply shall her bosom prize

The blessings she receives from them.
Beauty is vain—the summer bloom

To which a transient fate is given; But hers awaits a lasting doom

In the eternal bowers of heaven.


J. A. W.

To the memory of the late Mr. and Mrs. William Martin Forster, of whom all that was mortal perished, during the wreck of the steam-packet, Rothsay Castle, in Beaumaris Bay, North Wales, August 17, 1831.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? "- Rom. viii. 35.

BOUND on a voyage o'er Life's rough main,

In company they stood;
And held their course, as not in vain,

Through that tempestuous flood.
One banner was by each displayed,

-The banner of the Cross;
And storms might roar,-but, undismayed,

They feared no final loss.
Glad to obey their Captain's voice,

Whatever gales might rise,
To do His will they could rejoice,

-Eternal rest their prize.
And long they sailed, with favouring wind,

And sunny skies of love,
With many a bright isle left behind,

-With brighter hopes above.

* Written after reading the Rev. J. H. Stewart's affecting Narrative.

And when, at length, the stormy night

Of Death obscured their way, Amidst its gloom they hailed a light,

The dawn of endless day.

Ay--and to many a sinking bark,

Upon the waves of Time, 'Twas theirs, while all around grew dark,

To shew those beams sublime.

Through Nature's weaknesses and fears,

Through tempest, and through gloom, To point to land that bright appears,

Beyond thy gulf-O Tomb!*

* Never shall I forget the expressions of one of the survivors, when asking him if there were any who seemed alarmed, and dreaded to look back at their former lives. “ Yes,” he answered,

" there were.

Some were crying out in the accents of despair; and others were confessing that, in the days of ease, and wealth, and while seeking their worldly gain, they had forgotten their God, and bitterly lamented their misconduct.” He was asked, “ Do you think their confessions were sincere?” He replied, “So sincere, that you might see their consciences, and every word they uttered was like a shot in my heart, reminding me of my own sins!” *

Some of the persons who were at the bow of the vessel were dreadfully alarmed, and crying out in the bitterness of despair. Our beloved brother was observed by the same person, who had observed them together in prayer, going, as he might well say, like an angel of mercy among them, and telling them not to be in such terrible dismay,--that it was not yet too late to apply to the Lord Jesus; that he was still able and willing to save; and


Together launched—together borne

Above the floods of strife, Why should we now their entrance mourn

Together into life?

The port is reached—their toils are o'er,

Their anchor cast in peace;
Their souls have gained that tranquil shore,

Where sin and sorrow cease.
And well may we, who still contend

wind and wave, Upon that Pilot's skill depend,

Who triumphs o'er the grave. The tranquil haven lies ahead,

Though billows fiercely foam, And Christ shall calm each spirit's dread,

As he conducts us home.

0, may we learn on Him to trust,

While yet ’tis called to-day!


therefore desiring them, while there was one moment left, to cast themselves upon him! The Lord seemed to have blessed the message, for there was an immediate stillness, and some were heard devoutly calling upon his

O how consoling is it to think that the Lord was thus honouring our beloved brother in his dying hour. At the very time that he was about to sink into the deep waters, using him to pluck, as a brand from the burning, some whose spirits seemed descending into a far deeper gulph.-- Rev. James Haldane Stewart's Narrative. Third Edition.

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