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Paul, however, with his two sons, having been nection between the Albigenses of the Alps fortunately out of the way, escaped the general and the Paulicians of Armenia; nor, after all doom of his companions, and through his efforts that has been said against them by their enethe sect again revived and flourished. We do mies, and repeated by others, do we see anynot hear much of them till the ninth century, thing either unreasonable or discreditable in the when one of those little incidents is recorded, connection thus established. It proves the care which, like a flash of light suddenly illuminat- which God has taken, in the darkest ages, to ing the prevailing gloom, discovers to us more maintain a race of witnesses to the truth; it at a single glance, than we can make out during affords an interesting illustration of the inall our previous investigations guided by the destructible power of vital religion ; and it dark lantern of monastic history. An aged fe- shows us that to the East, from which the saving male Paulician, whom Peter Siculus describes light of the Gospel first shone forth, we are as the tool of Satan, and a fair specimen of her indebted also for the first dawnings of the sect, accosts a young man of the name of Ser- | blessed Reformation. gius, with some flattering remarks on his attainments, and some expressions of surprise that he

JERUSALEM. did not read the sacred Gospels. His immediate (From Warburton's Crescent and the Cross.") reply was: “ It is not lawful for us profane per- AFTER some resistance from the Turkish sentinels, I sons, but for priests only.” She then suggested entered the Pilgrims Gate, under a lofty archway, whether it were not obvious from the Scrip- and found myself in Jerusalem. tures themselves, that they were designed by with ruins, and containing a broken cistern, called

On the left within the walls is a waste place strewed their Author for general perusal; hinted at the

the “ Pool of Bathsheba;" on the right is pointed suspicious motives of the priests in concealing out the Hill of Zion, whereon "David's Tower" them; and proceeding to read certain portions maintains its ground in tradition, if not in truth. of the New Testament, the youth became in- From this open space three streets, or rather roads terested, read the volume for himself, and was

(for they are almost houseless), branch off; that to afterwards numbered with the most zealous of the left leads to Calvary and the Convent of the the Paulician missionaries. The anecdote il- English Church, and Armenian Convent; and that

Terra Santa; that to the right to Mount Zion, the lustrates at once the spirit of the historian, the straight onward to Mount Moriah, where stand the || ascendency which the Oriental priesthood had Mosque of Omar and the collection of villages that is

already obtained over the people, and the cha- called the city. racter of the means employed by the branded

I betook myself to the hospice of the Latin Concommunities of Armenia with a view to diffuse vent, where I found a white-washed cell and an iron

bedstead at my disposal. It was dismal enough; but a more scriptural piety. It may be added that lony travel under a Syrian sun prevents one from Sergius, who took the name of Tychicus, pub- feeling fastidious, and it ill becomes a pilgrim to lished several writings, which were long after complain on Calvary. held in veneration by the Paulicians; and that The Convent, whose guest I now found myself, is he ultimately gave the inost unequivocal proof lestine. It is called, by distinction, the Convent of the

the wealthiest and most influential of all those in Paof the depth of his convictions by suffering mar

Terra Santa, and has possessions handed down from tyrdom, being literally “sawn asunder,” or cut

the times of Godfrey de Bouillon. All the other Latin in two pieces with an axe; on which the monkish

convents in Syria pay deference to this, the chief historian perpetrates a miserable joke, asserting guardian of the Holy Sepulchre. that "it was just, that he who had divided I took no guide but memory; and, mounting a the Church, should himself be divided, and fresh horse, I repassed the gate by which I had

entered on the southern side, and rode forth to make | consigned to eternal fire.”

a circuit of the city—“ to walk round about her, and The subsequent history of the Paulicians is mark well her båttlements.” Sadly has all been one of bloodshed, oppression, and war. We changed since this proud challenge was spoken, yet may form some idea of their immense numbers the walls are still towering and imposing in their from the fact which seems almost incredible, effect. They vary in height from twenty to sixty but which is boasted of by the inquisitors, that feet, according to the undulations of the ground; and in the ninth century, under the reign of the architraves, as old at least as the Roman-conquered

are everywhere in good repair. The columns and Empress Theodora, and by her orders, no less city, that are worked into these walls instead of ruder than “ a hundred thousand Paulicians had been stones, bear eloquent testimony to the different nature despatched by the sword, the gibbet, and the of their predecessors. A bridle-path leads close to flames.” At length, goaded to madness by the their base all round; the Valleys of Hinnom and unrelenting fury of their enemies, they raised the Jehoshaphat yawn suddenly beneath them on the standard of revolt, joined with the Saracens, and, Gihon, the 'Hill of Evil Counsel, and the Mount of

west, south, and north, separating them from Mount under the generalship of Corbeas, Chrosyschier, Olives. These hills are utterly barren, and lonely as and others, gained several victories, and made fear can make them. Though within gunshot of the severe retaliation on their enemies. Ultimately, city, robberies are here committed with impunity, however, defeated, borne down, and dispersed, and few people venture to leave the walls without they retreated into foreign countries, and many the Valley of Hinnom; the sterility of all around; the

being well armed and attended. The deep gloom of of them found their way, by various roads, into silence and desolation so intense, yet so close to the the heart of Europe. And thus, as was stated city; the sort of memory with which I could trace in our opening paragraph, we may trace a con- each almost familiar spot, from the Tower of Hippicus

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to the Hill of Scofie, ma le this the most interesting cypresses shading its burnt soil; here is a mosyze, rich excursion lever undertik. Now we look down upon its heavy lone and its pert minarets: and there is the the Pool and Valley of Gihon from the summit of capacious church that covers the Holy Sepulchra, Mount Zion; now upon the Vale of Hinnon, with l'he eye wanders away with a feeling of relief from the Pool Of Siloam, ani Aceldama bevcad the brook; this most morniul city, to the wide, strange proper now over Mount Moriah, with the Valley of Jehesha- that surrounds it. Far to the south, we look orer tie phat beneach, and the village of Siloam on the oppo- barren but magnificent hills of Judah, with its site sile, scattered along the banks where Ke Iron used through their mocky glens of the rich Valley of the to flow. Then, passing through the Turkish cemetery Jorun, and the calm, Ireen waters of the Dead Sea, and over the brook Kedron, we come to the venerable whose surface gleams on either side of a forentour! garden of Gethsemane, in which, say the legends, still formed by the lofty village of Bethany, Berardi stand the olive trees that sheltered Christ. This Jordan and the Sea of the Plain, the mountain mardien is only a small grove, cecupying perhaps two the Mcabites tower into the clear blue sky, and are acres of ground, but it is one of the best authenticated reflected in brown and purple shadows on their (F3 scenes of interest about Jerusalem. From it a steep dark, mysterious lake. and rocky rath leads to the three summits of the Beneach us is the garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, on the loftiest of which stands the Valley of flinnom with its Top het, and the Vale ci Church of the Ascension. An Armenian priest au- Jehoshaphat with its Crock Kedron, which meets the mitted me into the sacred enclosure, motioned to a waters vi Siloam at the Well of Joab. The Tomiso little monk to lead about my horse, and led the way the Kings, of vehemiah, of Absalom, and of its in silence to the roof of the church. From hence is Juives, lie before us; the Caves of the Prophes the most interesting, if not the most striking, view in everywhere pierce the rocks that have so often rethe world.

scunse to the war-cry of the Chaldean, the Roman, From such a sumrit might the great lea ler of the the Sarren, and the Crusader. Beyond the city, people have viewed the land which was to be the spreads the Vale of Rephaim, with Bethlehem in the reward of their desert wanderinss. From it is lid stance; every rock, and hill, and valley that is bare every tibre of the great heart of Palestine. The vis, ie, bears some name that has rung in history. atruosphere is like a crystal lens, and every ovject in and then the utter desolation that ererywhere the Holy City is as clear us it it lay within a few prevails—as it all wis over with that land, and the yards, instead of a mile's distanca. Each battlement "rocks bau indeed tallen, and the hills indeed bad upen those war-worn walls, ench will tever that covered" the mighty, the beautiful, and the brave, clusters over them; the dogs prowling about the waste' who once dwelt there in prosrerity and peace. No places among the ruins, and actus, and cypress; the fucks, ao husbardmen, nor any living thing is there, turbaned citizens slowly moving in the streets; all except a group of timid travellers_turbane i' figures, there are recognisable almost as clearly as the promi- and veiled woren, ani a file of camels-winding along nent foutures of the city.

the precipituus pathway under the shadow of the The eminence called Mount Morish lies nearest to palm tree. our view, just above the narrow Valleyor Jehoshashat. Descending from the Mount of Olives, I re-entered Tlie city wall passes over the ceatre of it, embracing the city by St Stephen's Gate, where Turkish soldiers a wiile enclosure, studled with cypresses and cedars, constantly keep guard; turning to the left, I visited in the centre of which stands the magniticent Mosque the Pool of Bethesda, an i then wandered slowly over of Omar. This is of a very light, fantastic archi- the Via Dolorosa, in which is pointed out each spot tecture, bristling with points, and little spires, and where the Saviour fell under the burden of the cross, minarets, many of which have gilded crescents that as he bore it to Calvary along this steepand rugged way. tlash and glem in the sunshine; while the various In aftur days, I inpatiently traversed the squalid groups of Moslems, sitting on bright carpets, or slowly I city, with a monk for my guide, in search of its wandering among the proves, give life and animation various localities of traditionary sanctity; but I will to the scene. The Mosque occupies the site of the not ask the reader to stcop to such a labour. My Temple, and is held holy by the Moslem, as the spot monkish cicerone pointed out to me where Dives where Abraham offered Isaac to be a sacrifice. To lived, where Lazarus lay, where the cock crowed or the left of the Mosque enclosure, within the walls, is a roosted that warned Peter of his crime, and even space covered with rubbish and jungles of the prickly where the blessed Virgin used to wash her Son's linen. pear; then part of the Hill of Zion, and David's The character of the city within corresponds with Tower. To the right of the enclosure is the Pool of that of the country without. Most of it is very soliBethesdla; beyond which St Stephen's Gate affords tary and silent; echo only answers to your horses entrance to the Via Dolorosa, a steep and winding tread; and frequent waste places. anong which the street. along which Chriet bore the cross in his ascent wild dog prowls, convey an indescribable impression to Calvary. To the right of this street, and towards of desolation. It is not these waste places alone that the north, stands the Hill of Acra, on which Salem, give such an air of loneliness to the city, but many of the most ancient part of the city, was built, they say, the streets themselves, dark, dull, and mournfulby Melchiseriek. This hill is enclosed by the walls of looking, seem as if the Templars. armed tread was the molern town; but the Hill of Bezetha lies yet the last to which they had resourded. The bazaars farther to the right, and was enclosed within the walls and places of business are confined to one small that the Romans stormed. Beyond Bezetha stands quarter of the city; everywhere else you generally the Hill of Scopas, wherefrom Titus gazed upon Jeru- find yourself alone. No one is even there to point salem the day before its destruction, and wept for out your way; and you come unexpectedly upon the the sake of the beautiful city.

Pool of Bethesda, or wander among the vaulted ruins Whatever beauty may have distinguished the city of the fiospitallers' courts, without knowing it. The in the day of its evil prile, there is little within the remains of the ancient city that meet your eye are wide enclosure of its walls to claim an interest, except singularly few; here and there a column is let into the unchangeable lills on which it stands. Tiere and the wall, or you find that the massive and uneren there is a cluster of slat-roofed buildings, then a space pavement is of costly marble; but, except the Pools bewildered with weels and ruins; here is a busy of Hezekiah and Bethesda, the Tower of Hippicus, street, with vince sheltering its bazaars, and gor- and some few other remains, preserved on account geous looking arowils streaning through it; and there of their rtility, there is little of art to connect the is a dearted garden, with a few dreary olive trees and memory with the past.

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"Ilare I also here looked after him that secth me?"

Gen. xvi. 13.

O God, unseen, but not unknown!

Thine eye is ever fix d on me;
I dwell beneath thy secret throne,

Encompass'd by thy Deity.
Throughout this universe of space

To nothing am I long allied,
For flight of time and change of place

My strongest, dearest bonds divide.
Parents I had; but where are they ?

Friends whom I knew, I know no more; Companions, once that cheer'd my way,

Have dropt behind, or gone before. Now, I am one amidst a crowd

Of life and action hurrying round; Then, left alone—for like a cloud

They came, they went, and are not found. Even from myself I sometimes part

Unconscious sleep is nightly death; Yet surely by my couch thou art,

To prompt my pulse, inspire my breath. Of all that I have done and said

How little can I now recall ! Forgotten things to me are dead;

With thee they live-thou know'st them all. Thou hast been with me from the womb,

Witness to every conflict here; Vor wilt thou leave me at the tomb

Before thy bar I must appear.
The moment comes—the only one

Of all my time to me foretold-
Yet when, and how, and where, can none

Among the race of men unfold:
That moment comes when strength shall fail,

When (liealth, and hope, and comfort town) I must go down into the vale

And shade of death, with thee alone. Alone with thee!-in that dread strife

Uphold me through mine agony,
And gently be this dying life

Exchanged for immortality.
Then, when the unbodied spirit lands

Where flesh and blood have never trod,
And in the unveil'd presence stands

Of thee, my Saviour and my God,
Be mine eternal portion this,

Since thou wert always here with me-
That I may view thy face in bliss,
And be for evermore with thee.

JAMES MONTGOBIERY. The Mount, near Sheffield,

Ductinbei 16, 1845.

DY GEORGE REDFORD, D.D., WORCESTER,

No. I. “The sinners in Zion shall be horribly afraid." JS- was the child of professing parents, and his mother was a woman of no ordinary character for knowledge, piety, and holy courage. Their son had been early conducted to the house of God, and as soon as he became the master of a house, became a regular contributor to the support of the Gospel. For more than half a century, he was a leading man in all the temporal concerns of the place of worship which he statedly attended, both on the Sabbath service, the week-day lecture, and the prayer-meetings. He never was a very con. sistent professor, it is true, and no experienced Christian gave him credit for true piety; still he was favoured with all the richest means of grace-- with the preaching and society of one of the most fervent and faithful ministers of the day; and with the friendship and society of many who lived in the faith, and of many whose end he witnessed to be peace and joy. it ought to be noticed that he never made a profession of that devotedness to God which should characterize a true Christian, except, indeed, that in two instances, more than thirty years apart, he wished his ministerto propose him to the Church for membership. In both these instances the faithful minister frankiy told him he would be refused.

Thus we retrace the history of fifty or sixty years-a round of outward duties, a busy attention to the affairs of life, the, politics of the day, and to all the parochial business and squabbles wbich arose. In this way—by a round of engagements-life was stolen away, until the days drew on in which the windows became dim through age.

The conduct of this aged man having been peculiariy offensive to his minister at this time, he very faithfully reproved him, and the reproof of friendship gave such offence that he would not see his old friend and minister for some weeks.

Conscience, which had been hardered by repeated force put on it, and which had slept in the quietness of insensibility, was at length wounded and awakened by a sermon which he heard from the words, “ Jline iniquities hast thou sealed in a bag.”

The trouble of mind continued and increased, until his housekeeper, a pious woman, could forbear no longer sending for me. My intercourse with the aged trarsgressor had been interrupted by the same cause which had broken the long friendship of his minister. I immediately hastened to his house. I found hiin restless, humble, and greatly distressed. lie tuld me, that a day or two after hearing the sermon above alluded to, sins committed and forgotten

to the Hill of Scopas, made this the most interesting cypresses shading its burnt soil; here is a mosque, with excursion I ever undertook. Now we look down upon its heavy done and its pert minarets; and there is the the Pool and Valley of Gihon from the summit of capacious church that covers the Holy Sepulchre. Mount Zion; now upon the Vale of Hinnom, with The eye wanders away with a feeling of relief from the Pool of Siloam, and Aceldama beyond the brook; this most mournful city, to the wide, strange prospect now over Mount Moriah, with the Valley of Jehosha- that surrounds it. Far to the south, we look over the phat beneath, and the village of Siloam on the oppo- barren but magnificent hills of Judah, with vistas site side, scattered along the banks where Kedron used through their rocky glens of the rich Valley of the to flow.' Then, passing through the Turkish cemetery Jordan, and the calm, green waters of the Dead Sea, and over the brook Kedron, we come to the venerable whose surface gleams on either side of a foreground garden of Gethsemane, in which, say the legends, still formed by the lofty village of Bethany, Beyond stand the olive trees that sheltered Christ. This Jordan and the Sea of the Plain, the mountains of garden is only a small grove, occupying perhaps two the Moabites tower into the clear blue sky, and are acres of ground, but it is one of the best authenticated reflected in brown and purple shadows on their own scenes of interest about Jerusalem. From it a steep dark, mysterious lake. and rocky path leads to the three summits of the Beneath us is the garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, on the loftiest of which stands the Valley of Hinnom with its Tophet, and the Vale of Church of the Ascension. An Armenian priest ad Jehoshaphat with its brook Kedron, which meets the mitted me into the sacred enclosure, motioned to a waters of Siloam at the Well of Joab. The Tombs of little monk to lead about my horse, and led the way the Kings, of Nehemiah, of Absalom, and of the in silence to the roof of the church. From hence is Judges, lie before us; the Caves the Prophets the most interesting, if not the most striking, view in everywhere pierce the rocks that have so often rethe world.

sounded to the war-cry of the Chaldean, the Roman, From such a summit might the great leader of the the Saracen, and the Crusader. Beyond the city people have viewed the land which was to be the spreads the Vale of Rephaim, with Bethlehem in the reward of their desert wanderings. From it is laid distance; every rock, and hill, and valley that is bare every tibre of the great heart of Palestine. The visibic, bears some name that has rung in history. atmosphere is like a crystal lens, and every object in And then the utter desolation that everywhere the Holy City is as clear as if it lay within a few prevails—as if all was over with that land, and the yards, instead of a mile's distance. Each battlement rocks had indeed fallen, and the hills indeed had upon those war-worn walls, each wild flower that covered" the mighty, the beautiful, and the brave, clusters over them; the dogs prowling about the waste who once dwelt there in prosperity and peace. No places among the ruins, and cactus, and cypress; the flocks, no husbandmen, nor any living thing is there, turbaned citizens slowly moving in the streets; all except a group of timid travellers-turbaned' figures, these are recognisable almost as clearly as the promi- and veiled women, and a file of camels--winding along nent features of the city.

the precipitous pathway under the shadow of the The eminence called Mount Moriah lies nearest to palm tree. our view, just above the narrow Valley of Jehoshaphat. Descending from the Mount of Olives, I re-entered The city wall passes over the centre of it, embracing the city by St Stephen's Gate, where Turkish soldiers a wide enclosure, studded with cypresses and cedars, constantly keep guard; turning to the left, I visited in the centre of which stands the magnificent Mosque the Pool of Bethesda, and then wandered slowly over of Omar. This is of a very light, fantastic archi- the Via Dolorosa, in which is pointed out each spot tecture, bristling with points, and little spires, and where the Saviour fell under the burden of the cross, minarets, many of which have gilded crescents that as he bore it to Calvary alongthis steep and rugged way. flash and gleam in the sunshine; while the various In after days, I impatiently traversed the squalid groups of Moslems, sitting on bright carpets, or slowly city, with a monk for my guide, in search of its wandering among the groves, give life and animation various localities of traditionary sanctity; but I will to the scerle. The Mosque occupies the site of the not ask the reader to stoop to such a labour. My Temple, and is held holy by the Moslem, as the spot monkish cicerone pointed out to me where Dives where Abraham offered Isaac to be a sacrifice. To lived, where Lazarus lay, where the cock crowed or the left of the Mosque enclosure, within the walls, is a roosted that warned Peter of his crime, and even space covered with rubbish and jungles of the prickly where the blessed Virgin used to wash her Son's linen. pear; then part of the Hill of Zion, and David's The character of the city within corresponds with Tower. To the right of the enclosure is the Pool of that of the country without. Most of it is very soliBethesda; beyond which St Stephen's Gate affords tary and silent; echo only answers to your horse*s entrance to the Via Dolorosa, a steep and winding tread; and frequent waste places, among which the street, along which Christ bore the cross in his ascent wild dog prowls, convey an indescribable impression to Calvary. To the right of this street, and towards of desolation. It is not these waste places alone that the north, stands the Hill of Acra, on which Salemn, give such an air of loneliness to the city, but many of the most ancient part of the city, was built, they say, the streets themselves, dark, dull, and mournfulby Melchisedek. This hill is enclosed by the walls of looking, seem as if the Templars' armed tread was the modern town; but the Hill of Bezetha lics yet the last to which they had resounded. The bazaars farther to the right, and was encloscd within the walls and places of business are contined to one small that the Romans stormed. Beyond Bezetha stands quarter of the city; everywhere else you generally the Hill of Scopas, wherefrom Titus gazed upon Jeru- find yourself alone. No one is even there to point salem the day before its destruction, and wept for out your way; and you come unexpectedly upon the the sake of the beautiful city.

Pool of Bethesda, or wander among the vaulted ruins Whatever beauty may have distinguished the city of the liospitallers' courts, without knowing it. The in the day of its evil pride, there is little within the remains of the ancient city that meet your eye are wide enclosure of its walls to claim an interest, except singularly few; here and there a column is let into the unchangeable lills on which it stands. Here and the wall, or you tind that the massive and uneven there is a cluster of flat-roofed buildings, then a space pavement is of costly marble; but, except the Pools bewildered with weels and ruirs; here is a busy of Hezekiah and Bethesda, the Tower of Hippicus, street, with vines sheltering its bazaars, and gor- and some few other remains, preserved on account geous-looking crowds streaming through it; and there of their utility, there is little of art to connect the is a deserted garden, with a few dreary olive trees and memory with the past.

A CONTRAST.

7

Original.

A CONTRAST.

TWO SKETCHES,

“ THOU, GOD, SEEST ME!" “llare I also here looked after him that seeth me?"

Gen. xvi. 13.
O GOD, unseen, but not unknown!

Thine eye is ever fix'd on me;
I dwell beneath thy secret throne,

Encompass'd by thy Deity.
Throughout this universe of space

To nothing am I long allied,
For flight of time and change of place

My strongest, dearest bonds divide.
Parents I had; but where are they?

Friends whom I knew, I know no more; Companions, once that cheer'd my way,

Have dropt behind, or gone before. Now, I am one amidst a crowd

Of life and action hurrying round; Then, left alone-for like a cloud

They came, they went, and are not found. Even from myself I sometimes part

Unconscious sleep is nightly death; Yet surely by my couch thou art,

To prompt my pulse, inspire my breath. Of all that I have done and said

How little can I now recall! Forgotten things to me are dead;

With thee they live-thou know'st them all. Thou hast been with me from the womb,

Witness to erery conflict here;
Nor wilt thou leave me at the tomb-

Before thy bar I must appear.
The moment comes-the only one

Of all my time to me foretold-
Yet when, and how, and where, can none

Among the race of men unfold:
That moment comes when strength shall fail,

When (health, and hope, and comfort flown)
I must go down into the vale

And shade of death, with thee alone.
Alone with thee!-in that dread strife

Uphold me through mine agony,
And gently be this dying life

Exchanged for immortality.
Then, when the unbodied spirit lands

Where flesh and blood have never trod,
And in the unveil'd presence stands

Of thee, my Saviour and my God,
Be mine eternal portion this —

Since thou wert always here with me-
That I may view thy face in bliss,
And be for evermore with thee.

JAMES MOXTGOMERY. The Jount, near Sheffield,

Decenbei 16, 1845.

DY GEORGE REDFORD, D.D., WORCESTER.

No. I. “The sinners in Zion shall be horribly afraid." J-S— was the child of professing parents, and his mother was a woman of no ordinary character for knowledge, piety, and holy courage. Their son had been early conducted to the house of God, and as soon as he became the master of a house, became a regular contributor to the support of the Gospel. For more than half a century, lie was a leading man in all the temporal concerns of the place of worship which he statedly attended, both on the Sabbath service, the week-day lecture, and the prayer-meetings. He never was a very consistent professor, it is true, and no experienced Christian gave him credit for true piety; still he was favoured with all the richest means of grace_with the preaching and society of one of the most fervent and faithful ministers of the day; and with the friendship and society of many who lived in the faith, and of many whose end he witnessed to be peace and joy. It ought to be noticed that he never made a profession of that devotedness to God which should characterize a true Christian, except, indeed, that in two instances, more than thirty years apart, he wished his ministerto propose him to the Church for membership. In both these instances the faithful ininister frankiy told him he would be refused.

Thus we retrace the history of fifty or sixty years—a round of outward duties, a busy attention to the affairs of life, the, politics of the day, and to all the parochial business and squabbles which arose. In this way—by a round of engagements, life was stolen away, until the days drew on in which the windows became dim through age.

The conduct of this aged man having been peculiarly offensive to his minister at this time, he very faithfully reproved him, and the reproof of friendship gave such offence that he would not see his old friend and minister for some weeks.

Conscience, which had been hardered by repeated force put on it, and which had slept in the quietness of insensibility, was at length wounded and awakened by a sermon which he heard from the words, " Mine iniquities hast thou sealed in a bag."

The trouble of mind continued and increased, until his housekeeper, a pious woman, could forbear no longer sending for me. My intercourse with the aged trarsgressor had been interrupted by the same cause which had broken the long friendship of his minister. I immediately hastened to his house. I found him restless, humble, and greatly distressed. lie told me, that a day or two after hearing the sermon above alluded to, sins committed and forgotten

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