Thus may I ever live,
And feel the power divine;
Taught by Thy Spirit to believe
This full salvation mine.
"With a painful headache I walked to York; but the satisfaction of mind I felt in keeping the path of duty, amply repaid me. I think a general blessing was experienced.—While pleading with God, these words were applied, 'I am Thy salvation.' I felt confidence, but not all I want. I seem only on the edge of living; I want to be 'plunged in the Godhead's deepest sea.'—Six months since my dear mother departed! She is daily the subject of my thoughts, and her memory becomes increasingly dear to me. Well, it is but a short separation—a thin partition; my earthly tabernacle feels the force of time—it crumbles and decays; but by faith I look for a more durable habitation, where I shall meet those who are gone before."
Time rolls away—yet fresh the scene appears
When my dear mother left this vale of tears;
Then, sorrow stamped its seal upon my heart;
Nature recoiled—but grace relieved the smart.
"Mr. R., discoursing on the necessity of exercising a forgiving spirit, illustrated his subject by the following anecdote:—An officer in the army lying on his deathbed, sent for one of the preachers to visit him. On his entering the room, the sick man asked him, if he remembered that he was once insulted by a company of officers while he was preaching in Dublin. The preacher remembered it well. He then told him, that he had been one of the worst of them; and had sent to ask him to pray for him, and to teach him what he must do to be saved,—as he believed he was a dying man, and was unprepared for another world. The minister pointed him to the Saviour; and after praying with him several times, was about to depart, when the officer offered him a handsome present for his services. This he refused, and took his leave. On passing through the hall, one of the servants accosted him, "What a pity my master won't see his son, and has cut him off with a shilling, although he would gladly see his father." The minister immediately returned to the sick man, and repeated to him the Lord's prayer until he came to the words, 'as we forgive them that trespass against us;' he then stopped, and asked him if he forgave every one. The officer paused a moment and replied, 'There is one whom I do not forgive, and cannot.' 'Then,' said the minister, 'neither will your heavenly Father forgive you your trespasses.' After some deliberation, it was agreed that the son should be sent for. He came, fell on his knees at the bedside, and with tears in his eyes, pressed his father's hand to his lips, and begged his forgiveness. The father's relentings were kindled: upon which the minister sung—
'The op'ning heavens around me shine,
With beams of sacred bliss;
When—
'When!' cried the officer, 'nay
Now, Jesus shows His mercy mine. And whispers I am His.'
"Called upon Mr. and Miss K. They had company: I was preserved from unprofitable conversation, and dared to speak for God. On my return, I passed through the churchyard, where the remains of my dear parents are deposited. It was a beautiful moonlight night; and I stopped to shed a silent tear over the much-loved dust, in hope of joining them again in the realms above. Lord, help me on my way.—I went to see a backslider, whom the Lord had made willing to return. After conversing a little, we knelt down to prayer. Her husband prayed; then she began, and while confessing her sins and pleading for mercy, the Lord looked upon her in compassion, and healed her backslidings. The same afternoon, she came and joined herself with the people of God."
"Alone in the room where my venerated mother breathed her last."
Though no famed eulogy proclaims her worth,
Nor with her fellow-pilgrims ranked on earth,
A higher record doth her history trace;
In heaven's high register she claims a place.
Retiring, and unknown or but to few,
Her latter days were hid from public view;
But I have often witness'd, when alone—
The prayer uplifted, and the sigh unknown.
When no eye saw her, but with God shut in,
She pour'd her plaint to Him, who saw, unseen;
Then from the sacred word she succour drew,
'To hoary hairs I bear, I carry you.'
This promise still her drooping spirit cheered,
And shed its starlight when the night appeared.
Bold, in her weakness, close the foe pursued,
And oft the bitter conflict was renewed;
Conqu'ror at last, she calmly soared away,
And left a smile upon the passive clay.