notions and principles. The ways of such as held them seemed only to disturb his mind, rather than to afford any real help to him. So that after one of this class had been visiting him, prolonging his visit to a very unreasonable length, he requested that it might not be repeated again; he thanked them, and spoke most kindly of their motives, but wished his wife to inform them that he was regularly being visited by myself. The Memoir (which I had in manuscript) of E. Scotten was also read to him, from which he seemed to derive help. He seemed affected with the view of the great condescension and tender favour and love of God exhibited in his case, and to get encouragement to hope in the same mercy. .was A few days before his death, he v much buffeted by the enemy of souls, and on one of these occasions, I had read, and endeavoured to open up, Zech. iii., showing him how Satan ever was at the place of help, but how Jesus would accomplish his purposes of grace mercy notwithstanding. and He said to a friend, a few days before his death, "For three days Satan has buffeted me, but I am happy now." Indeed, on the Monday before his death, he seemed in much quiet assurance, though still in a measure ignorant whence his light had sprung. The words of Psalm cxviii. were on my tongue, though I could not recal for the moment, the whole verse to recollection, "God is the Lord that hath shewed us light," and turned down the hymn to be read to him, On ' Jesus, refuge of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly," &c. observing his wife bitterly weeping, better prospect; God will be a Father he said, "Why do you cry? I have a widow." This little hope did not forsake to the fatherless, and the God of the him. "I want a greater one-I want more faith," he would say, and still his eye was upward, and his heart crying after Jesus. On the following day, which was the day before he died, his last earthly day, visit to his friend Lazarus, and to the I read to him the 11th of John, Christ's grave of that friend, and endeavoured sometimes to delay, when the cry of to show him why Christ was pleased need reached his ear. He listened with much steadfast attention, and when I "Lazarus, come forth," said, that that was what he reached the words, wanted the Saviour to say and do for him, even to loose him and let him go. I reminded him then of the promise, "His going forth is prepared as the morning," &c. (Hosea vi. 3.), and he was encouraged still to hope. He said but little after this. Once he uttered the words, "Jesus is all I want," and distinct utterances, "My Saviour!" once again, which were almost his last "My God!" gently breathing his last, in sweet composure and rest, about one o'clock on Wednesday morning, June 29th, 1859. 3, Wiltshire Street, Southsea. J. S. S. DEATH. FEAR not, thou that longest to be at | tality, there will be nothing but the home; a few more steps and thou art short valley of death between you and there. Death, to believers in Christ, is the promised land; the labours of your as a ferry-boat; every day and at every pilgrimage will then be on the point of hour the boat pushes off with some of conclusion, and you will have nothing to the saints, and then returns for more. do but to entreat God, as Moses did, Soon, I believe, it will be said of them, "I pray thee, let me go over and see as it was to her in the Gospel, "The the good land that is beyond Jordan." master is come, and calleth for thee." When you are got to the boundary of your race below, and stand on the verge of heaven and the confines of immor Many go weeping into this river, but never was there a saint yet who went weeping all the way through it.-Toplady. THE CAPTIVE LOOSENED; OR, HOPE FOR THE BOUND. "Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity."-Luke xiii. 12. THERE are many things in this sad world which make the heart of man to stoop, tinge his head with grey, and cause his body prematurely to bend towards that kindred earth, where, sooner or later, he must find for a time his last home. To the many evils which sin has entailed upon man, and by which he is frequently oppressed, must also be added those which are brought upon him through the influence of Satanic agency. Of that inflence, as exerted upon the body at least, we hear but little in these modern times. That our Saviour may have gathered in some few links of Apollyon's chain, in this particular, is not improbable; but that he had power in by-gone ages grievously to afflict the body as well as the mind, is abundantly evident from the Gospel narrative. The evangelist Luke brings before us a woman whom a "spirit of infirmity" had bound for many years; and the Great Teacher tells us that satanic agency was the source of her disease, that the same hand which ravished the temple of man's soul at the beginning, and robbed it of all its celestial furniture, with infernal malice, had so maltreated the frail tenement in which she dwelt, that for eighteen years she had never stood erect. During all these years had the great adversary been tightening his cords about her, and frequently, no doubt, under the influence of that spirit of cruelty which ever lives in his heart, rejoiced at the thought that he should hold her body in misery to the end of her days. Of the intensity of diabolical hate we can scarcely form an adequate idea; but who can doubt its existence in the mind of him who felt a malicious delight in the fearful agonies of the Son of God? His meat and his drink is to oppose the Almighty, while the sufferings of God's creatures ever add additional relish to his infernal repast. Misery into the heart of Christ he cannot now introduce, or he would. But as he cannot reach the Master, he will, if possible, wound Him through those who love and obey Him. Could he accomplish his will, he would fill God's creation to overflowing with the same hatred, bitterness, and despair, which dwell in himself without diminution or vent. This being the temper of man's great foe, the sighs of this daughter of Abraham," whom he had smitten, were music to his ears, while her tears had been his solace, as he gazed upon her tottering steps and drooping form. He had seen her brow furrowed with care, and marked her fruitless attempts to break his bonds. She, poor creature, had often thought the hour seemed long, and with her the days rolled wearily away. Into the bosom of paternal love she had often poured out her grief; and, like Paul, besought the Lord many times to remove "the thorn" from the flesh. Again, and again, had she cried to the Lord for that help which she could not find in herself or her friends; and which all the skill of this world failed to bring. But the answer was delayed; the cloud still hung upon her path, and her foe revelled in her grief. The summer came, and the earth rejoiced in its fresh mantle of beauty; the birds sang with joy, and all around her appeared happy; but her burden remained: the summer departed, and in the lap of winter nature slept to regain her strength; but her body remained weak. The sun gilded her path by day, and the stars smiled upon her by night, but she could not look up. Her neighbours tripped gaily along, and the sons of Belial walked proudly erect by her side, and sometimes, it may be, she did think it hard that the God of her fathers appeared to shut out her prayers, and her body still pressed towards the earth. But the day of her deliverance came. " And when Jesus saw her;" what, had He not seen her before? Yes, doubtless, her history was well known to Him. "Behold, these eighteen years she hath been bound," said He. While these years passed tediously along, she could scarcely help thinking that her sorrows were entirely overlooked; but the days of her affliction were numbered, and the time appointed when they should cease | His name, and men while they read it, had now arrived. He who counted the shall exclaim, "This is the Lord's dostars will not be too late, either to confound her adversary, or loosen her bonds. Satan had not had the house entirely to himself. Could he have pulled down its walls he would have done so with fiendish glee; but Christ held them up. She was a "daughter of Abraham," and that stooping and oft weary body was His temple; He knew the place well, and it had long been determined that Satan's cruel work should all be undone. ing!" O Satan, thine eighteen years' labour has glorified Christ! was this thine intention? Where once thy malice was seen, now the grace of the Lord: will this serve thy cause? Men now see thou art cruel, and Jesus is love; that thou art weak, and Jesus is strong; that thou art foolish, and Jesus is wise. A weak woman is thy master, and what canst thou say? Thou didst pull down her body-it now pulls down thee; through her weakness thou didst wound her-her weakness now wounds thee; her frail body shall bruise thee-the body thou didst bruise. See, the woman walks erect! Try, now, canst thou make her stoop? Come, now, scheme, labour, toil-speak! Ah, 'tis vain! mercy has lifted her up to proclaim thy defeat, and to exhibit His power, which thou art ever seeking to hide. Thus the Captain of salvation spoils the works of the devil, plucks from his hands the heralds of his fame, and makes his malice but the foil of His love. Let us rejoice in these truths; but let us not forget that we have drooping souls now, who stoop by the way, and who in bondage through fear, can scarcely look up; who feel their bonds, and sigh for relief; who carry their chains, and cannot get free. Let us point such to Christ; let us speak of His blood; let us tell them of His grace, and of His power to save. Has Christ made us free? Has His love melted our chains? And now the eye of Christ is upon her; yes, he looks upon the poor, and despises not the weak. "He saw her;" did her beauty attract Him? Alas! no: she was deformed and bound. Still He looked upon her, and mercy beams from His eye, while love moves His heart. O favoured woman, to excite the attention of Him whom angels obey; to command His regard, whose favour is life. Upon her deformed body the curious had often gazed, and ignorant mirth had sometimes pointed the finger of scorn; the wise had pondered the cause of her infirmity, and the benevolent expressed a passing regret. But now ONE sees her who will not only look, but help; not only speak, but cure;Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity!" Oh, what a surprise, what a deliverance was this! How unexpected, how free! Her only merit was disease, but one word brings her cure. She now stands erect, and her lips pour forth praise. Oh, how easily the sinner conquers when Jesus gives him strength! while he struggles alone And shall we be silent with his sin, how vain his efforts to rise; among the captives of hell? God forbut, when Christ speaks the word, the bid! may all our movements declare, all conscience goes free; then faith finds a our words loudly proclaim, that Christ refuge, and Christ makes a friend. O has redeemed us, and lives to loosen the sinner, wouldst thou be free? take thy bound. Can we expect to enjoy Christ bonds to Christ; look to His blood for if we serve not His cause? Why passes thy pardon, and to His grace to subdue the Church homewards through the all thy sins. world's highway so frequently like a decrepit woman whom Satan has bound? Because she lives so much to herself, and so little to her Lord; looks so much at her burdens, and so seldom to Him. And what must arouse her, and quicken her movements onwards and upwards? The voice of her Beloved. And how is she to hear it? Through the Gospel of His grace, and the breath of His Spirit. Then let us cleave to the former, and pray for the latter; and let us antici The woman is free, and He who has released her body has loosened her tongue. And will she praise a man? "And she glorified GOD!" Who but God could have loosed her? And can she be silent? All her movements are vocal-every step utters praise. The broken harp is retuned, all its strings are awake, and in the man who has healed her, she finds the God whom she adores. On that once infirm body Christ has now written pate the period when the voice of Christ like a stooping woman whom Satan has again shall be heard, and when, spread-bound, but like a youthful bride adorned ing His hands over the dust of His for her husband, to exhibit His glory sleeping Church, she shall arise, and and laud His name.-From "Lessons standing upon the shining summit of from Jesus." By the Rev. W. P. Baleverlasting day, shall no longer appear fern. THE SNARE BROKEN.* passed; the visitors I met at the Castle were all apparently of good standing in the world, and I never once found any. thing offensive in their manners or conversation. THE following incident in my own life in the least aware of my danger, I may serve as an illustration of the truth, found myself fascinated, no less by the that "the fear of man bringeth a snare.' "noble courtliness, than by the generous Soon after my ordination, I was ap-bonhommie of his manner. Some weeks pointed to a very comfortable curacy in the county of - My Rector, was much from home, and, his health requiring a mild climate, he generally spent the winter in Italy. I occupied the Rectory during these long absences, I have already said that Lord and passed my time very pleasantly. was liberal, he was, in fact, lavishly The few county families called on me, so, and I took care to distribute his but their formal politeness died a natural gifts to the poor in the best manner death study, not society, was my possible. I went on tranquilly, silenced pleasure, so that I never found the my conscience, and visited at the Castle, winter evenings long. Just before in the fond hope that I might do Christmas, Lord the patron of good by so doing; - Castle was in the living, arrived at the Castle, and, truth my "enchanted ground," and I the day after, sent me a most liberal began to feel lulled into a fatal calm, present of game and fruit, together with from which I was soon destined to have a kind message. His character was, a terrible awakening. unfortunately, notorious all over the county, and for many months I had dreaded his return to the Castle. I feared my pleasant time at would soon be at an end; for I had thought and prayed much since coming to this place, and determined that if I saw anything in Lord which in any degree offended against religion and morality, I would speak freely on the subject. The kindness with which Lord received me won my heart, even at our first meeting; and when he left, I sighed to think that one so kind and generous was an open profligate, an enemy to all that was "lovely, virtuous, or of good report." He urged upon me the free use of his noble library, a horse was always at my command, and he said he meant to rub up his classical lore, or he should be no match for a young curate fresh from the learned shades of College. Before I was The few county families I occasionally met at Castle had left the neighbourhood, either for visits or parliamentary duties, and I was told by my housekeeper that visitors had arrived whose character rendered them quite unfitted to associate with persons calling themselves either moral or religious. The good old woman ended her recital by saying, "It is a sad thing my lord does not grow steady as he grows older; but we must not be too hard on him: we are told, Judge not, that ye be not judged;' and that Charity covereth the multitude of sins.' I am sure that Lord -'s charity will go a great way to cover his sins, poor man! He has sent you another basket of game, sir, and a hamper of wine; and, sir, before I go, I must not forget to say that my Lord hopes to see you to dine tomorrow." I had not time to point out to the old servant the sad way in which she * From Tract 230 of the English Monthly Tract Society, 27, Red Lion Square, London. The next morning I set off to the Castle. I met the old postman, but used, or rather perverted, the texts of [then, should I fear? I was not called Scripture; for I was called away, and to go forth in my own strength. Oh, all the rest of the day I had parish no! that precious promise was sure and visits, and an evening lecture, which certain: "And when they shall bring fully occupied my time. One of these you unto the synagogues, and unto visits was to a person whose habits and magistrates and powers, take no thought principles were fully as depraved as how or what thing ye shall answer, or those of Lord I spoke plainly to what ye shall say; for the Holy Ghost him; I pointed out the error of his shall teach you in the same hour what ways, and warned him solemnly that his ye ought to say." vices were hurrying him along that fearful "road which leads to death." As I walked home I felt self-con-all the letters looked like circulars, and demned; for this poor man had only I was so pre-occupied, that I thrust acted as Lord so frequently did, them into my pocket. It was an exyet I had fearlessly reproved him, while quisitely lovely day, and after my night I could not disguise it from myself, of feverish thought, I felt the fresh air that to utter a word of reproof to the quite a luxury. As I passed on, I heard friendly nobleman would excessively the old church bell of the village toll, pain me. I shut myself in the study, as if some one was just dead; but I and began seriously to examine myself, saw no one to inquire which of the few and the result was very painful; I had and scattered members of my flock had sadly neglected my duty, but I resolved, been taken away, and I rapidly walked with God's help, to redeem the past. It on. was not prayer alone that was needed. No. I must put on the whole armour of God," which would alone enable me to "stand in the evil day," and resist "all the fiery darts of the wicked one." I felt that the time for action had come, and determined, by God's assistance, to see Lord- and plainly point out to him the error of his ways; and that sin could, in the end, be attended with but one result-everlasting punishment. Tired and out of breath, I sat down to rest. The beautiful purple haze of early autumn rested on the lovely landscape. The winding river, the grand old Castle, in all its baronial pride and splendour, were full in view, and the belt of fine trees which divided Lord -'s estate from the parish, were just tinged with brilliant autumnal tints. I felt, while gazing on the beautiful scene before me, that this might perhaps be my last friendly visit to this fine old place. Then I rose, and once more lifting up my heart in prayer, walked on, and was summoned into the private sitting-room of Lord The pleadings of self-interest would have kept me silent. If I offended my patron my position would be very unpleasant, and as the Rector was one of the family, he, too, would be He shook hands more cordially than angry with me, and not desirous of my ever, and then said, "I was coming to longer stay in his parish. That night I call on you, Edmund; but I see, like had no sleep, so painful were the the rest of your brethren, you have a struggles between self-interest and my keen appetite for the loaves and fishes. duty to God. Besides all this, I had Why do you look so astonished? Are conceived a warm personal attachment you not come to ask for the living? to the generous nobleman, who had Do you not know that to-day's post ever treated me as a friend or son; has brought me the account of the and it was only after long and earnest death of our old Rector? It is a good prayer that I felt strengthened for the thing, for, poor old man, he was quite coming trial; and rose from my knees, past all enjoyment; and I hope you feeling that, if I trusted entirely to my will take the living, as a token of my heavenly Father, I need not fear. His esteem, and may you long enjoy the strength would be made perfect in my gift I have so much pleasure in bestowweakness," and I should be able to fighting." the battle of truth, not only firmly, but I assured Lord that the death successfully. The glorious panoply of of the old Incumbent was totally unexthe armour of God was promised; why,pected by me; but a good-humoured |