the funeral. Ah! who that witnessed that, can let it

"The

escape from their memory ? Truly might it be said, "The priests of Zion sigh, her virgins are afflicted, and are in bitterness, and the comforter that should have relieved their souls was far away." The Lamentations of Jeremiah seemed, indeed, the only part of the Word of God suitable for us at that moment, "How hath the Lord covered the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger, and cast down from heaven unto the earth the beauty of Israel!" virgins of Jerusalem hung down their heads to the ground, for their breach was great like the sea. Who can heal thee?" We felt at that moment, that we were the people that had "seen affliction by the rod of his wrath." The recollection of our crying in earnest supplications came across us, and every mind seemed enquiring, Why are we witnessing such a scene as this? Why? because "He shutteth out our prayer; he has covered himself with a cloud, that our prayer should not pass through." "Oh! how is the gold become dim! how is the most fine gold changed! The stones of the sanctuary are poured out in the top of every street." They assembled to witness the mournful procession from every congregation, and exclaimed as it passed, "The precious son of Zion, comparable to fine gold, how is he now esteemed as an earthen pitcher, the work of the hands of the potter." Oh! deep, humiliating lesson! surely, if any had escaped crumbling to pieces, he had done so. Lovely vessel, how richly wast thou adorned! "They that did feed delicately are desolate in the streets, the elders have ceased from the gates, the young men from their music, the joy of our heart is ceased, our joy is turned into mourning, the crown is fallen from our heads; woe unto us, for we have sinned!" Yes, there it comes; we have indeed sinned, and this heart-rending scene confirms the truth that God is angry-the shepherd is smitten, and the flock are scattered. The exclamation over his grave, by the clergy, Alas, my brother!" will never be forgotten;

66

it seemed to say, "The flock are accountable for this." Dear Mrs. Breay had said to me a few Sundays previous, upon some warm expressions of attachment, "Hold us looser, or you will lose us.' Our very existence seemed bound up in them; notwithstanding, I cannot see the sin in this which some would have us see, as I am convinced we loved them both only for the image of the Redeemer that shone so brightly in them; and just in proportion to the strength of our attachment would have been our dislike, had they done anything inconsistent with their profession. Dear man of God! I loved thee much for thine own sake, but oh! how much more for thy Master's sake! They who obeyed not his doctrine are the guilty party. How I trembled for them, and for myself, who obeyed it not as I ought, when he preached the ever-memorable sermon, "Take heed how ye hear!" The next morning, speaking to our beloved Mrs. Breay on the fidelity of that heart-stirring sermon, I remember saying, "Rather let the candlestick go, than that we should sit hardened under such preaching." How little did I think what I was saying in the ears of Him who knows the secret desires of every heart. A presentiment that we one and all deserved to lose the candlestick made me tremble, and gladly would I have recalled the words; but deep conviction at the moment, of the awful responsibility of sitting unmoved, extorted them from me. The solemn, affectionate, and earnest warnings of our faithful pastor will assuredly rise up in judgment against many at the last great day. Pray for me, my dear Elizabeth! that they may not condemn me. Never for a moment would he lower his standard, or come down to the worldly opinions of any, however near or dear. "I have a great work to do, and I cannot come down," seemed constantly on his mind. Oh! may I have grace given me to follow him, as he followed Christ. You have often heard me speak of his preaching, but much do I regret that you never had an opportunity of hearing

him, as nothing can give you an adequate idea of it, not even the slight sketches of his sermons which are published. The sum and substance of it was Christ and him crucified. He was the Alpha and Omega, and the centre of all he said and did. There was sweetly blended in his manner and style, all the holy boldness of an Elijah, all the seriousness of a John the Baptist, all the eloquence of a Paul, and all the persuasion, zeal and love, that ever dwelt in all or any of the first preachers of the Gospel. Why, oh why! in the midst of his usefulness was he cut down? again and again, asks the beating heart. The only answer is, "What thou knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter." Gracious promise! In child-like submission will we wait thine own time, Heavenly Father, for the developement of thy mysterious dealings with us. We are indeed quite unable to fathom this mystery of mysteries; and therefore we can only with streaming eyes lift up our aching hearts to heaven, and cry, "Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight." We now bow in humble resignation, assured that as it regards himself, all is well, and as it regards the flock, all shall be well with those who loved him for his Master's sake, who heard his message and obeyed it. But woe unto those who rejected his doctrine; who attended on that perfection of ministry, and yet remained "in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds of iniquity." They sat hardened and unmoved, and in mercy to them, the candlestick has been removed, to arouse them lest they sleep the sleep of death. God, perhaps, was angry, too, with some few, who thought more of the minister than the master; for it is difficult to enjoy a privilege and not abuse it. He had no share in the blame attached to this, for none could caution us more against it. How often has he said, "Look through me as you would through a window, to a beautiful prospect beyond: care not about the man, but contemplate the master." How did he strive to hide himself behind the Saviour, and con

sider himself only a servant for Jesu's sake. Once, praising a splendid sermon he had preached, and telling him how much one of the flock had been struck by it, he immediately replied, "Ah! if it is only my arrow it will come back again, but if it is the Lord's, it will remain." How numerous were the conversions under his ministry; and to all would he say, “ Not unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name, O Lord, be all the glory." The beloved flock generally glorified the giver, whilst they enjoyed the gift; and God in his mercy will assuredly send them another faithful pastor, who will abundantly reap the seed sown, that both " he that soweth, and he that reapeth may rejoice together." Often have I wished that you could have been amongst us, to witness the undisturbed devotion and breathless attention of that beloved flock. Many persons have said it was a sight worth coming a hundred miles to see, and it has attracted many a wandering heart by its loveliness. We can easily imagine our great adversary filled with envy at such a sight, and longing for its overthrow. Well, how know we, but he has gone, as the accuser of the brethren, before the Lord, and said, “This is all done for man, take away thy chosen servant, the people's idol, and then see what fruit they will yield thee." We repel the accusation, and oh ! pray for us, that our future conduct may prove, that it came from the father of lies. God took him away, perhaps, that our sincerity might be made manifest to principalities and powers, and that it might redound to his glory. He lived and he died for his Master's glory. As it regards himself, we know that he is taken from the evil to come. Yet when we look at our irreparable loss, and the void made in our happy circle, and think the sweet counsellor, the affectionate friend, the faithful and tenderly-beloved pastor is gone, we weep. But we will now dry up the fountain of our tears, and lifting up the eye of faith, behold him a pillar in the Church triumphant, no more to go out, wearing a crown

of glory, carrying a palm of victory, with the name of his adorable Redeemer stamped on his forehead. Could we for a moment wish to bring our beloved one back from that fulness of joy, or rob him of that crown, for which he has been fighting, and striving, and wrestling so many years ? Oh no! we would not do it by a wish, if it were possible. We may go to him, and if we are savingly united unto the same living Head, we shall soon hear the joyful summons, "Come up hither." We live in fearful times, and happy, thrice happy! are they who are landed safe on Canaan's shore. Sometimes I take my station on Pisgah's mount, and directing my eye through the telescope of faith, take a survey of the promised land;-behold the goodly fellowship of the prophets, the glorious army of martyrs, the spirits of just men made perfect, and amidst this holy, this happy company, my beloved pastor, a citizen of the New Jerusalem, free from every temptation, and far out of the reach of danger. Our loss is indeed his eternal gain. Oh! pray for us, my dear friend, that we may live, and act, and speak as that man of God would have us do;-that we may walk through this wilderness with our Bibles in our hands, faith in our hearts, our eyes upon our Master, and with love to the souls of our fellow-sinners; and then we shall be amongst the number of those of whom he shall say at the last, "Lord, here am I, and the children whom Thou hast given me." Yours affectionately,

J. S.

"OLD HUMPHREY'S WILLOW-PATTERN

REVERSED."

My dear Elizabeth has, perhaps, read the original, and may think it great presumption in me to alter it, however know that I love to exercise my fertile imagination in

you