And with the help of his grace

I will put

well; and I can trust him. my trust in him as long as I live. Oh, yes, I know not how to praise him sufficiently for making me his child! To him I look up, and feel that he hears my prayer. And when, dearest father, I am thinking of you, and am keenly feeling your loss, I look for comfort to my Jesus." And on the second Conference Sabbath, she wrote, "Another sweet Sabbath has dawned upon us, and again I deeply regret that I cannot join the people of God in worshipping Him in His house. Yet, when I think of what he has done, and is doing for my soul, and of what he has done for my body, especially during the last four days, I know not how to praise him sufficiently for his innumerable mercies to me. I have been praying, dear father, that I may enjoy a sweet day of rest, and find it the most profitable Sabbath I ever spent. I did enjoy the presence of God during prayer, and have done since, and I prayed, too, my beloved father, that you might enjoy a glorious day among your friends at Bethesda."

The improvement, however, which had raised the hopes and called forth the gratitude expressed in these extracts, was but transient; and in a few weeks, the return of every unfavourable symptom, together with increasing weakness, evinced both to her and to sorrowing friends, that her dissolution, and at no distant period too, was in prospect: a conviction, which each succeeding week served only to strengthen. But the spiritual man grew as the outer man decayed, and christian graces and consolation seemed to strengthen in proportion to increasing bodily weakness. She saw, indeed, on a survey of her religious life, as every true child of God sees, that she might and ought to have done more for the promotion of his glory. She expressed her regret that she had not laboured more for the good of those within her reach, and explained plans, which, during the Christmas vacation, she had been arranging in her mind for that purpose. But while thus sensible of unfaithfulness, and consequent entire unworthiness, she was enabled to lay hold by faith on the glorious hope set before her in the Gospel, and to realize all its happy fruits. On Sunday, July 25th, the eighty-fourth Psalm having been read, with Dr. Boothroyd's admirable Reflections, she, after prayer, remarked, "My faith daily becomes stronger, and I feel that I can fully trust myself with that Jesus who died to save me. That is my hope, my only hope, and through it I have perfect peace. The sting of death is taken away, and the fear of death is removed. I have feared, lest when passing through the dark valley, my faith should fail, and I should find myself in darkness and doubt. But not only have I the promise of my God and Saviour, but when, of late, strength and spirits have so suddenly and greatly failed, and I have thought that my change was at hand, not only has my peace been preserved, but my soul has been increasingly filled with love and joy. When I survey the goodness of God to me, in the religious privileges I have so abundantly shared in his house, in the bestowal of such dear parents and friends, but above all, in the gift of his dear Son as my Saviour, my heart overflows with gratitude. And O, how thankful I am to my dear Redeemer, that he deals so tenderly with me in taking down this tabernacle. I have no pain, and the decay of this frail tenement is imperceptible to me." She, like her sister, dwelt with delight on Christ's last discourse with his disciples, and his sacerdotal prayer, as recorded by St. John, and on the twenty-third Psalm and afterwards referred with peculiar pleasure, as had her sis

ters, Mrs. Hulme and Sarah, to the endearing character under which the Supreme Sovereign of the universe is represented; the provision he has made; the ground of confidence furnished, and the representation given by Dr. Boothroyd of that heavenly fold into which Christ's sheep shall finally be introduced.

A few days prior to her death, an attempt was made by her spiritual adversary to shake her confidence, and thus destroy her peace. "It was strongly suggested to me," she said, "that I was deceived, and that I should find myself unsaved at last. But I asked myself, 'has the love of sin any place in my heart? Would I do any thing which I know to be displeasing to my God and Saviour? Do not I cordially believe in that Saviour? And do I not love him better than any earthly object?' And I felt that my heart could reply satisfactorily to these questions, and that my Jesus loved me; and again I rejoiced in him with a joy unspeakable." This joy was never afterwards interrupted. Some of her subsequent statements were "I am more happy than I can express! The Spirit itself bears witness with my spirit, that God is my reconciled Father, that Jesus is my elder brother, and that Heaven is my home. O, how my heart abounds! I have prayed to my heavenly Father that he would not permit Satan powerfully to assault me in my last hours, lest in the season of nature's weakness my faith should fail; but that he would sustain my faith and patience, and enable me to rejoice to the end."

On the evening of Wednesday, August 4th, spasms of the upper part of the chest came on, producing agonizing paroxysms of oppression in breathing, and which threatened instant suffocation. During this conflict, which continued, with short intervals of ease, from about six o'clock until twelve, no word of complaint was heard, but only ejaculatory aspirations for divine strength and patience, and thankful acknowledgments for intervals of relief. And when afterwards adverting to the sufferings thus undergone, and expressing a hope that they would not be renewed, she added, that if her gracious God saw fit to determine otherwise, and would sustain her by his power, she would willingly suffer, as well as do all His pleasure. Her hope, however, was mercifully realized, and further severe suffering was spared. On Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, she apportioned her books and other articles to her friends and young companions, to whom she wished them to be presented as tokens of her affection; and in the mean time, exerted herself to the uttermost to finish some waxflowers, which she was desirous so to leave to her surviving sister. On these days, and more especially the latter, her devout and affectionate expressions, and joyous though pallid countenance, evinced the holy tranquillity that reigned within. But her work was now well-nigh done. Having been taken, at her request, into a lower room where she spent her evenings with some part of the family, she took her tea as usual, but was soon after visited with sinking and hurried respiration, which seemed to threaten immediate dissolution. On reviving, she observed, "I am rather disappointed. I felt myself sinking, and thought my Jesus was taking me to himself, and I was saying, 'Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly,' when I began to revive; and here I still am. Well, if my heavenly Father so appoint, I am willing to remain, and to suffer as long as he may seem fit. I only ask faith, and patience and grace, that Ĩ may be kept to the end." Soon afterwards, having expressed her desire to speak to the young ladies while she was able, they were called in ;

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when, with a voice occasionally faltering, but with a collectedness, earnestness, affection, and propriety, which equally surprised and pleased, melted every heart, and bedewed every eye, she assured them of her love to them, and concern for their welfare; informed them that the coming Sabbath would be spent by her in a glorious eternity, and that Jesus was taking her to himself; requested them solemnly to put the question to their own hearts, whether, were her circumstances theirs, they would have the same happy assurance; expressed her fears that some of them were expecting happiness from the world, but wished them to consider what a miserable condition her's must now be, were the world her only portion, and that her circumstances might possibly soon be theirs; and urged and intreated them to prepare to meet her in heaven. All about her were, in turn, similarly addressed; and when in connexion with one of those addressed, she observed her mother and sister weeping, she turned to them, and with an expression of voice and manner, which only the purest affection, combined with the most fervid piety, could give, she said, " O, my dear mother, and my dear Anne, why do you weep? My Jesus is taking me to himself, and will you weep at this? Join me in praises to him, and let this be the house of rejoicing, and not of mourning. I shall soon be singing in heavenly strains our delightful chorus, (referring to Handel's Messiah) Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive blessing,'" &c.

On being taken again to her bed-room, though unable to find a position in which the body could rest, yet the same holy confidence and joy continued to be her portion. After periods of laborious breathing, she would express, with smiling countenance, her sense of the divine presence -her anticipations of heaven-the joy in meeting there her loved sisters and friends who had gone before, but above all, her dear Redeemer; and her hopes that she might be allowed to minister to her beloved surviving relatives and friends, during their remaining pilgrimage, and then conduct them to the Saviour's feet. About an hour before her death, she requested her father to repeat for her the hymn commencing with,

"Come ye that love the Lord,"

and on the first two lines of the last verse but one being cited,

"The men of grace have found,
Glory begun below,"

she said, "Stop, father, I must sing those verses." And rousing herself, she sung them in a favourite tune, "Mather's Morning Hymn," with a strength of voice, and a correctness which awakened in all who heard, wonder and joy. This was her last effort. Torpor, succeeded by momentary wandering, came on, but soon gave place to sensibility and calmness; and just before her exit, in answer to the question, whether she was still happy in the consciousness of her Redeemer's love, she replied, "O yes, I am perfectly happy! he is mine, and I am his." Strength and consciousness soon failed, and without any painful struggle, she exchanged this transitory life for a blissful immortality, on Sabbath morning, August 8, in the twentieth year of her age.

DISCOURSES AND ESSAYS.

AN ESSAY

ON SELF-KNOWLEDGE AND SELF-IMPROVEMENT.

BY THE REV. J. ARGUE.

AMONG the variety of subjects which present themselves for our consideration, next to the Great Author of our existence, man claims the first place, and is to man the most important. Of all the branches of knowledge attainable by us on earth, the knowledge of ourselves is the most necessary, and the most useful. "Know thyself," is a precept which has been taught and sung for ages past, by moralists and poets. It has been attributed to Thales the Milesian, who said, for a man to know himself was the hardest thing in the world. It was adopted by Chylon the Lacedemonian. Pliny informs us, that it was one of the three precepts which came down from God. It was attributed to Apollo, and written in Greek letters over the door of his temple at Delphos. It was not only a favourite expression among the Greeks, but highly applauded by the Romans. Cicero says, it possesses such weight and wisdom, as proves it was not from man. Juvenal declares it came down from Heaven. Dr. Young adopts it, and says, 'Man, know thyself, all wisdom centres there;" and Pope also, when he says, "The proper study of mankind is man." With respect to man's physical nature, he belongs to the animal creation. Various definitions of man are given by philosophers and naturalists. One defines him to be a two-legged animal without feathers. His opponent plucked a cock and set him before him for a philosopher. Dr. Franklin defines man to be a tool-making animal. Others say he is a cooking animal. Cuvier defines him to be a mammiferous animal with two hands. This I think the most descriptive, as the hand, and especially the thumb, distinguishes him above the brute creation, and qualifies him for arts and sciences. But it is his rational spirit or soul that raises him particularly above the brute tribe. Some say that brutes have more than instinct, that they have a low degree of reason; still they have not reason as possessed by man. Locke says, "Reason is natural revelation, and that he who takes away reason to make way for divine revelation, puts out the light of both." "Reason," says Stewart, "is the power of distinguishing right from wrong, truth from falsehood, and devising means to accomplish ends." It is reason that renders man capable of moral obligation. By it he rises from nature up to nature's God. We shall define man a compound being, consisting of a material body, and an immaterial spirit. Self-knowledge includes the knowledge of both, and self-improvement the improvement of both. Dugald Stewart says, "The notions we annex to matter and mind, as is well remarked by Dr. Reid, are merely relative. If I am asked, what I mean by matter, I can only explain myself by saying, it is that which is extended, figured, coloured, moveable, hard or soft, rough or smooth, cold or hot; that is, I can define it in no other way than by enumerating its sensible qualities. It is not matter or body which I perceive by my senses, but only extension, figure, colour, and certain

other qualities, which the constitution of my nature leads me to refer to something which is extended, figured, and coloured. The case is precisely similar with respect to mind; we are not immediately conscious of its existence, but we are conscious of sensation, thought, and volition; operations which imply the existence of something which feels, thinks, and wills. Every man, too, is impressed with an irresistible conviction that all these sensations, thoughts and volitions, belong to one and the same being, to that being which he calls himself-a being which he is led, by the constitution of his nature, to consider as something distinct from his body, and as not liable to be impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of his organs." Thus we have the same evidence for the existence of mind, that we have for the existence of body. If any difference exist, it is on the side of mind, being the subject of conciousness, the other only of perception. Matter and mind are known by their qualities and attributes alone; we are totally ignorant of the essence of either. Bishop Berkeley said, as the mind only receives impressions of external objects, we have no proof of the existence of matter. Hume then denied the existence of mind, and said, we have nothing but impressions made by external objects. But the evidence of our senses, respecting matter and mind, is a fundamental law of our nature, susceptible of no proof or explanation, and has universal consent; what we know by consciousness, is beyond the possibility of question. Mathematicians must have axioms, self-evident truths, as a basis for their demonstrations, and metaphysicians must have first principles, which admit of no process of reasoning, but are self-evident also. Some persons say that thought is the result of organization; but all organized matter does not think, and as far as the knowledge of man extends, it is not a property of organized matter to think; we may refine matter, and change it into a thousand forms, but cannot make it think. It is by the bodily organs, especially the brain and nerves, that the mind holds intercourse with the external world. The mind has the power of memory to recal past ideas, and reason on them, which proves its existence, independently of impressions from external objects. Father Buffier says, "The practical influence of matter and mind are acknowledged by those who deny them, as in suffering pain, taking offence, and requiring the payment of debts." Man stands at the head of the earthly creation, not only with respect to his mind, but his body also. His erect structure and upright form, the majesty and dignity of his countenance, shew the superiority of his nature. To him no creature on earth bears any portion of resemblance; their downcast look, and grovelling form, show the lowness of their nature and destination.

The body of man is a machine, fearfully and wonderfully made. There are about two hundred and forty-five bones in the human body, as the foundation of the machine. Sixty-one in the head and face, sixty-two in the trunk or body, sixty in the arms and hands, and sixty two in the legs and feet; some of the bones are long, others short; some broad, others hollow; they are all united by joints and ligaments, constructed with an art and design that has never been equalled by man. It is said that Galen the Atheist, when dissecting a human body, discovered such art and design, that he acknowledged a Creator. There are four hundred and fifty muscles, or elastic springs of motion, each having a living power to contract one third of its length. They are united to the bones by tendons, and thus move the body in a thousand