and the quicksands which line the shore in the broad track of the Christian's life!

The influence of godly fear will enable the Christian to possess his soul in patience under the varied and accumulating trials of life, fixed and stayed on God, in the full assurance of faith. "None of these things move me,” said the Apostle; "neither count I my life dear unto me, so that I may finish my course with joy." Others, again, anxious for the future, in reference to personal and family affairs, are so completely absorbed on the subject, that they neglect godly fear, and consequently lose all enjoyment of the Divine life. They have forgotten the prescribed rule to live by the day, and to leave the morrow to Him who alone has a right to it. The life of faith is completely set aside, and the life of sense occupies and engrosses their attention. They would fain see and know of a certainty from whence their supplies will come, instead of being satisfied to leave all to Him who has taught them to pray, "Give us this day our daily bread.' Thus they fret, and imagine evils which never may be realized, simply because they live not by faith-mistrusting Him who feeds the fowls of the air, and provides for the wants of all his creatures. Godly fear has departed, and where once conscience was awakened to resist the first signs of declension, the avenues are now open to delusion, fear, mistrust, restlessness, and corroding anxiety. They have forgotten. their first love, and, with the decay of this vital principle, their first works. They are called on to repent, or to do their first works, or are threatened to have the candlestick removed.

To live by faith is to live in the exercise of godly fear, as seeing Him who is invisible guiding and directing all events, however painful or protracted, that all might tend to His glory, in the complete salvation of the soul. Others, who did run well, have caught the spirit of the world, by seeking to reconcile religious profession with the common maxims of society. They have seen no harm in yielding consent to usages which mark the character of the children of this world. They have, by contact and familiar intercourse, imbibed their spirit, temper, and practice; and in their daily walk and conversation imitate so closely those of whom there is no good hope, that the line of demarcation between themselves as members of the Christian

Church and the worldly-minded, appears to be broken down. Godly fear has slowly but effectually yielded to indifference, and left the heart to wither amid the dry stubble of a fruitless profession. How needful is the prayer, "Order my steps in thy word, that my feet may not slide!"-" Keep me as the apple of the eye, and let not sin have dominion over me." How important to wear the whole armour of God, to withstand the many and dangerous temptations which meet the Christian in his daily progress to cultivate a tender conscience, which shrinks from the touch of sin-to cherish godly fear, which dreads to offend God, and grieve his Holy Spirit-to run with soberness the race set before him-to win the prize of the crown of righteousness! Without the constant application of the blood of Jesus to the soul, and earnest diligence in seeking to glorify God, by the exercise of the graces of the Spirit, there is reason to fear that many, very many, deceive themselves, crying "Peace" where there is no peace, and fondly hoping that all is well, that the course is right, and that the vessel is in full sail for the haven of eternal rest. Awful delusion! leading many to neglect personal holiness, and remain satisfied with a name to live, while they are dead. Tiverton, April 4th, 1851. F. S. G.

A MOTHER'S LEGACY.

I was five years old when my mother died; but her image is as distinct to my recollection, now that twelve years have elapsed, as it was at the time of her death. I remember her as a pale, gentle being, with a smile and a voice that was soft and cheerful when she praised me; and when I erred-for I was a wild, thoughtless child-there was a trembling mildness about it that always went to my heart. And then she was so kind, so patient: I can now see her large blue eyes moist with sorrow, because of my way wardness, and hear her repeat, "My child, how can you grieve me so?" I recollect that she had for a long time been pale and feeble, and that sometimes there would come a bright spot on her cheek, which made her look so lovely that I thought she must be well. then she sometimes spoke of dying, and pressed me to her bosom, and told me to be good when she was gone, and to love my father a great deal, and be kind to him, for he would have no one else to

But

love. I recollect she was one day very sick, and my little hobby-horse and whip were laid aside, and I tried to be quiet. I did not see her for the whole day, and it seemed very long. At night they told me my mother was too sick to kiss me, as she always used to do before I went to bed, and I must go without it. But I could not. I stole into the room, and, laying my lips close to hers, whispered, “Mother, mother, won't you kiss me?" Her lips were very cold; and when she put her arms around me, laid my head upon her bosom, and one hand upon my cheek, I felt a cold shudder creep all over me. My father carried me from the room, but he could not speak. After they put me in bed, I lay a long while thinking. I feared my

A

mother would indeed die, for her cheek felt as cold as my little sister's, when she died. But the impressions of mortality are always indistinct in childhood, and I soon fell asleep. In the morning I hastened to my mother's room. white napkin covered her face. I removed it; it was just as I feared. Her eyes were closed; her cheek was cold and hard; and only the lovely expression that always rested on her lips remained. In an instant all the little faults for which she had so often reproved me rushed upon my mind. I longed to tell her how good I would always be, if she would remain with me.

She was buried; but my remembrance of the funeral always remained indistinct. I only entertained the impressions which her precepts and example left upon my mind. I was a passionate, headstrong boy; but I never yielded to this turn of my disposition without fancying I saw her mild eye fixed upon me, just as she used to do in life.

My whole character underwent a change, even from the moment of her death. Her spirit was for ever with me, strengthening my good resolutions, and weakening my propensity to do evil. I felt that it would grieve her gentle spirit to see me err, and I could not, would not, do it. I was the child of her affection; I knew she had prayed and wept over me, and that even on the threshold of eternity her affection for me had caused her gentle spirit to linger, that she might pray for me once more. I resolved to become all that she could desire. This I have never forgotten. It helped me to subdue the waywardness of childhood, protected me during the temptations of youth, and will comfort

and support me through the busier scenes of manhood. Whatever there is that is estimable in my character I owe to the impressions of goodness made upon my infant mind by the exemplary conduct and faithful instructions of my excellent mother.

"I OUGHT TO PRAY MORE." FOR One, I am convinced that I do not pray enough. I feel this conviction daily. As a half-fed man is conscious that he needs more food, so my halffamished soul tells me that I need more prayer. I need it to give me strength, to quicken my languishing graces, to enliven my affections, to vitalize my relations to the church, and to spiritualize all my conversation.

I must pray more.-I am in a world of sin; unholy influences are pressing me on every side. The spirit of the world assails me at every step. In all the domestic, social, and business relations of life, I meet it, and feel it, and without more prayer, I shall yield to it. Alas! I have yielded, am still yielding, and there is no alternative but more prayer! I must pray more, or be swept down by the tide. Lord! save, or I perish!

I will pray more.-A good resolution! May I have grace to keep it! How many such have been broken! Let me, then, first of all, pray for grace to do what I see needs to be done. And let me remember that it is prayer that I need, communion with God, intercourse with heaven, fellowship with the Holy Spirit. I need the penitence, humility, self-abasement, and self-renunciation which prayer alone can secure. I need the faith, and hope, and love which prayer alone can awaken.

I will pray more, then, because it is my duty to do so. I am morally and spiritually unfit to engage in God's service as I am. I have reason to fear that my offerings may be an abomination to the Lord. But my obligation to serve God remains. I ought to do Christian duty, and bring my gifts to the altar. And God is waiting to be gracious; willing to give his Spirit to those who ask him.

How often shall I pray? As often as the language of prayer is in my heart; as often as I see I feel my need of help; as often as I feel the power of temptation; as often as I am made sensible of any spiritual declension, or feel the aggression of a worldly, earthly spirit.

The review of the Society's history from August 11, 1819, to the year 1840, when it became associated with the Congregational Union, is indeed most cheering, and many a grateful song has ascended for valuable coadjutors in our efforts for evangelizing Britain, and for rendering her the Evangelist of the World. Many have done valiantly, but Ingram Cobbin excelled them all.

The prize for which we were aiming was one well worthy of encountering the most formidable obstacles, and we were in some measure prepared, by the statistics of moral destitution in many of our counties, to meet them; but in the accession of Mr. Cobbin to our Home Missionary phalanx-the energy which, amidst much physical weakness, he threw into the undertaking-his support of my views that the title of "Home Missionary Society" would be greatly more attractive than that of the "Albion Union "-his judicious condensation of the information I had collected-his extensive knowledge of country brethren ready to fall in with the design-each concurred in impressing our minds with the conviction that the providence of God had determined to give birth to a Society which should elevate Britain to a state of Home Evangelization greatly beyond what it had ever

seen.

On August 11th, 1819, the Society was formed; and in the establishment of the Home Missionary Magazine, the many excellent articles which were written by himself, and in his unremunerated labours for years, he watched over its advancing progress with the affection of a parent. Many esteemed compeers lent their willing aid, but to himself was it chiefly owing that difficulties passed away, and that, stimulated by our success, the Christian Instruction, the City Mission, the PastoralAid, and other Societies, appealed so successfully to the pecuniary support of the Christian Church.

County Associations came to our aid, and many a Christian partnership was effected beneficial to both. The light of heavenly truth, by means of these combined operations, has visited a large portion of our village population, and although it cannot yet be said, as it was a few years after the ascent of our gracious Master, that you could not go into the fields and villages but you would hear the plough-boys with their hallelujahs, and the ascending supplications of the poor man's family altar, yet these days will assuredly come. Many a rural vil

lage congregation in Devon, Somerset, Gloucester, Staffordshire, Herts, and other counties, have I seen, where the tear of grateful joy has descended at the thought that, poor and oppressed as tens of thousands of them are, in otherwise highlyfavoured, enlightened, and liberty-loving Britain, the lines have fallen to them in pleasant places, and that they have a goodly heritage. I have heard their earnest supplications for the good gentlemen of London, for having sent them the Gospel; and I have thought that in such scenes we have had an ample reward indeed for labours so imperfect and so few, and how joyfully would our brethren in the skies revisit our earth, to increase the number of future associates from villagers like these.

Our beloved friend is now reaping a rich, a luxuriant, a glorious harvest; but I forbear, and will merely ask your indulgence whilst referring to one favourite object which secured his attention, and for which he took two tours with the warm-hearted Charles Hyatt, in search of the Gipsy race. Your readers will best judge of his solicitude for them by my copying the following petition, which he wrote for them in the Home Missionary Magazine for 1821, page 78:

THE GIPSIES' PETITION.
Oh! ye who have tasted of pardoning love,
And shared in the blessings of mercy and
grace,

For us let the bowels of tenderness move,
And pity, oh! pity the poor Gipsy race!
Too long have we wander'd neglected and wild,
And view'd by all people as wretched and base,
Not once on our darkness has light ever smiled,
Then pity, oh! pity the poor Gipsy race!

Like you, we're adorn'd with that gem which, if lost,

Not the mines of Golconda can ever replace; To redeem it the blood of Immanuel it cost; Then pity, oh! pity the poor Gipsy race! Ye who have found mercy, that mercy display; Ye sons of adoption, your origin trace; And then, ah! you cannot your face turn away, Then pity, oh! pity the poor Gipsy race! Like us, you were vile in the sight of your God, But he look'd, and he loved, and he pitied

your case,

And a Saviour has cleans'd you in streams of his blood;

Then pity, oh! pity the poor Gipsy race!

We too may form part of that numerous throng

Redeem'd from all people by infinite grace, And yet join with you in the heavenly song; Then pity, oh! pity the poor Gipsy race!

May I add one also as a specimen of his solicitude for Cottagers, in a book of Divine Songs for them, beautifully simple,

Poor objects of pity! 'tis all they have got; Let the glad hope of heaven be given to me,

And I shall be rich in my little thatch'd cot. The rude hand of Time passing over the world, Its 'scutcheons of glory with darkness shall blot;

What then will avail, when to ruin it's hurl'd, If mine were a palace or little thatch'd cot? The poor in the annals of glory may shine, When the mem'ry of sinners now haughty shall rot;

The blessing exalted for ever be mine, When I am removed from my little thatch'd cot.

(Cobbin's Songs for Cottagers.)

Thirty-one years have now elapsed, and many of our early associates in this work are gone to their rest. Very pleasant indeed is it to follow Mr. C. to nearly the close of life, and to give you a few extracts from his very recent correspondence, and to learn that as he lived so he died:

Nov. 16, 1850.-After referring to his purpose to publish a work for Sundayschools, and expressing himself grateful for my communication, he observes, "I thank my heavenly Father that I have somewhat rallied in health since this time last year, when I fell off to a skeleton; but the recollections of this season are delightful, and I found that there is indeed consolation in Christ."

Jan. 23, 1851.-"I again thank you for your kind interest in my little work.

I feel more and more that my day of labour approaches its termination. May a gracious Saviour continue to smile on my soul in my last hours! He is still

more precious to me than all the earth calls good or great."

May some other friend take up the pen, and give us a sketch of our departed friend, worthy of such a labourer; and may the Congregational ministers of our country imitate more fully such a bright example of home devotedness! In an early Home Missionary career we had difficulties almost insuperable for our town population; these are, however, by the happy union of the Society with them, and for which I so anxiously laboured, all vanished, and our towns are now open. Passing events have increased their responsibility, and are most cheering. May they seize them with all the earnestness befitting their high calling, and God, even our own God, will bless them, and all the ends of the world shall soon fear him! Ever, my dear Sir,

Yours in Christian esteem,
THOMAS THOMPSON.

Poundsford Park, Mar. 18, 1851.

REV. T. B. EVANS.

DIED, on Friday morning, 7th February, 1851, the Rev. Thomas Benjamin Evans, the esteemed pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Ynysgau, Merthyr Tydfil, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, leaving three children, a large circle of friends, and a numerous flock, of which he was pastor upwards of forty years, to lament his loss.

He

He was born at Llegadenwyn, in the parish of Llanybydder, Carmarthenshire, in the year 1787, and educated at Carmarthen Presbyterian College, under the Revs. David Peters and David Davis; he commenced his labours as a preacher at the age of nineteen, at Carmarthen, and in his twenty-first year he visited Truro, in Cornwall, where, by his meekness, and the unusual gentleness of his manner, he commanded for himself the respect of all who heard him. left Truro, after officiating there two years, and came to Merthyr, where his preaching attracted many; and, by close application to the service of his Maker, he won for himself the hearts and good-will of many old pious members of the chapel. After a few months' probation, he was unanimously accepted as their minister. He was ordained in the year 1810, at the age of twenty-three, in the Ynysgau Chapel; the chapel being 80 exceedingly full, the building gave way, although no injury was sustained, and the remaining part of the services was conducted in the adjoining churchyard. After his ordination, he endured a long and dilatory, though successful, struggle, in rescuing the chapel from the hands of Socinian and Unitarian monopolists. The chapel is the only freehold, and al-0 unencumbered one in the neighbourhood; it is the only charity in the town.

As a linguist, he was acknowledged to be the first in the principality, being master of thirteen languages. He was joint author of several excellent Hymn-books used in Welsh congrega tions.