gree acquainted with the character of your excellent brother, can for a moment hesitate to believe that it has been glorious and blessed to him? Who can doubt, that, through the loving-kindness of his God, he is gone to receive a bright reward? He will come no more among you upon earth ;—you will listen in vain for the bound of his footsteps and the accents of his voice ;—in this mortal state, you will never again behold him; it is a comfort, however, to think that he lived the life of a Christian: and in his most engaging example, he has bequeathed to you an inheritance compared with which, power, wealth, and earthly dignities, are as nothing in the scale.

A few short days will pass, and we shall all assemble in the world of spirits; and oh! with what astonishment, with what holy rapture, if we should find mercy to pity and forgive us, shall we again embrace the objects of our fondness, and join with them, before the eternal throne, in celebrating our deliverance from the bondage of the grave!

It is when" the light is darkened in our tabernacle," it is in circumstances of deep, heart-rending affliction, it is amidst those sad and sudden reverses, when our anticipations and our joys are scattered to the winds as in scorn, that we feel the value of our Christian hopes; it is when the hand of the Most High presses heavily upon us, that the truths of revelation are doubly dear to our souls.

In events like this there is a startling voice which it would be madness to disregard. Oh, let it not speak in vain! It reminds us that we ourselves cannot escape the universal law. It admonishes us to

transfer our thoughts, our cares, our affections, our hopes from vain and momentary, to everlasting objects. It conjures us to redeem the time, to reach forward to new attainments in truth and goodness, and to expedite our work.

Remember me most affectionately to all your mourning circle, and, in particular, should you have a favourable opportunity, to poor Mrs. You will believe me that, in these dark melancholy hours, she is often present to my mind. Great as her trial is, I pray that she may be enabled to support it. May that Almighty Being who is the friend of the widow, even God in his holy habitation, keep her under the shadow of his wings, and fill her soul with pious trust and love! He has said, "When thou passest through the fire, I will be with thee, and when through the floods, they shall not overflow thee."

It was kind in you, at a season of such distress, to call me to your recollection, and to write to me. You know how to touch my heart. I hope your sweet children are still a comfort and a blessing to you. Ever yours, with unalterable attachment,

I

TO MR.

MY DEAR SIR,

ON THE DEATH OF HIS
BROTHER.

[* * *]

October, 1st 1835.

HEARD some weeks ago, with deep concern, that your brother was an invalid, and my mind was prepared for serious apprehensions; but as I had no idea that he was so soon to close the scene, I cannot tell you how much the sad intelligence conveyed in your letter, startled and distressed me. We are human beings, and we naturally grieve when even the least of our comforts are taken from us; what then, under such a bereavement as this, must be the poignancy of your sorrow?

Your brother's character was beautiful in the extreme. I had the means beyond those which most persons enjoyed of estimating his worth; and I affectionately loved him. In the sunshine and in the shade, in weal and in woe, he was the same, always sincere, always ingenuous, always kind. None of his fellow creatures were so fallen or in so low a condition as to be beneath his sympathy; he was never weary of speaking the words of peace and encouragement to the unhappy.

You have reason to be deeply grateful for having had such a brother: and amidst your tears and your regrets, you can dwell with a melancholy delight on the remembrance of what he was,—on his habitual, his earnest piety, on his strength of principle, on his

serene and heavenly temper, on the rich endowments of his mind, and on those noiseless, unobtrusive, meek and gentle virtues with which he adorned his Christian profession, and which won their way, and made him inexpressibly dear, to the hearts of all who knew him.

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You cannot but be soothed by the consciousness of having invariably treated him with more than a brother's respect and tenderness; for "there is a comfort in the strength of love." His hours of pain and weakness are now over; he has crossed the gloomy stream. He died in the full assurance of hope." For him the final conflict had no terrors; he had overcome the fear of death; he could view the grave as an entrance to the light of eternal day. Some wise and eminent Christians have found this to be a difficult task. It is related of Bishop Butler, the author of "The Analogy," that in his last hours he said to his chaplain, "Though I have endeavoured to avoid sin and to please God to the utmost of my power, yet in the consciousness of perpetual infirmity, I am still afraid to die." My Lord," observed the chaplain," you forget that Jesus Christ is the Saviour." True," was the answer, "but how shall I know that he is a Saviour for me?"

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My Lord," rejoined the chaplain, it is written, 'Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.'' "True," said the bishop, his countenance brightening as he spoke, " and I am surprised that, though I have read that Scripture a thousand times, I never felt its value till this moment, and now I die happy." It has been your lot, my dear Sir, in a compara

M

tively short space of time to follow to the tomb in succession those who were long the objects of your warmest earthly gratitude and affection, the dear companions of your path, the pride and the solace of your home. Your trials have indeed been severe; but I am sure I need not remind you of the domestic comforts, unspeakably precious, which still remain to you, or of the animating hopes which believers in the gospel are permitted to indulge. We are not left to wander in uncertainty as to a life to come; it is no longer a conjecture or a vague desire. Immortality is the glorious discovery of Jesus Christ, and did his gospel contain no other truth, this alone would be sufficient to cast into the shade and reduce to comparative nothingness all that science and philosophy have ever been able to achieve. The proof of it, moreover, is suited to every understanding.

The graves of all his saints He blest,

And soften'd every bed;

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head ?*

Present my kindest regards to Mrs.
accept of my best wishes for your children.
Adieu! my poor heart-stricken friend!
Ever affectionately and sincerely yours,

and

* Watts.