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with a rare energy, characteristic in her, and was happy in having her efforts crowned with success.

Opportunity has fallen, perhaps, to the lot of few women to occupy a place and perform a part in the history of our churches, such as the one which fell to the lot of our departed sister in that of the church at Ebenezer Chapel, Brighton; but wherever opportunity has so fallen to another, we venture to say, we are too sorrowful to feel invidious,-it has been in no instance more quickly and eagerly cmbraced, and never more nobly employed. Placed by Providence apart from the privileges and pains, the comforts and the cares of natural maternity, she nevertheless had a mother's heart, and a large one; and God that gave her a soul for motherhood, gave her an opportunity for its comforts and cares, its labours and satisfactions, by opening to her the place of a Mother in Israel. How her large hearted love moved her sympathies and energies, and how these gave birth to corresponding activities; how she untiringly employed her mind and means, her time and talents, in the service of the church, is being told now eloquently enough, by sighs and tears, and the sorrowing intercommunications of multitudes of memories of her motherly kindnesses. At Joppa there was a Dorcas, and at Philippi a Lydia to bless the ministers and disciples of Christ in different ways; but at Brighton it may be said, without the slighest exaggeration, we have had the distinguishing qualities of both these noble women in the person of Esther Goffe.

Mrs. Goffe did not possess conversational powers in any high degree; but she had rare good sense, sound knowledge of the gospel, and a choice experience of its truths. She was indeed a spiritually minded christian; but her spirituality was rather of the quiet than of the ostentatious kind, rather genial than gloomy, and very much more fruity than seedy. If her spiritual conversation never dazzled with its brilliance, it never disgusted with its wordiness; if it never surprised with its marvellousness, it never shocked with its monstrousness; if it never indicated' a singularly full developement of the inward man, it never pained by giving evidence of spiritual deformity. On common subjects she talked in common language, and never indulged in the practice of tagging her remarks on the ordinary affairs of human life with sacred texts. Nor did she ever use any of those luscious, or rather slangy epithets and conventual

isms which are meant by those who do use them to convey the idea of a very superior spirituality, but which surely indicate to every sound mind a good deal more of the Pharisee than they do of the Publican.

As a hearer of the gospel she was ever in her place before service began, thoroughly attentive, discriminating without being affectedly nice, and one of those who if the preacher happen to say anything peculiarly good are sure to catch it, and perhaps take occasion to make encouraging mention of it. Horrifying sermons were revolting to her. Vulgar expositions of human depravity, and coarse expressions about human corruption, she could not away with. Deeply versed in herself in all that relates to the fall, sermons exhibiting the covenant titles, relations and operations of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, as, according to the Scriptures, they bear beneficially on the interests of sinners and of believers, were her craving, her support, and her joy.

Given to hospitality, she prized an opportunity to show it to good men, and considered that, in so doing, she received rather than conferred a kindness. From the days of Stevens downwards, her house has ever been the home, for the time being, of the brethren who have on extraordinary occasions served the church at Ebenezer; and it is not too much to say that no good man ever lodged in her house for a single night without taking away with him a warm affection for his hostess. Those brethren who have visited Brighton regularly to serve the church on extra occasions, have bent their steps to her house with the familiar feeling of going, as one of them has called it, to a second home.

None knew better, nor felt more than my departed sister, that she owed every spiritual, and every advantageous temporal distinction she enjoyed to the free grace and to the kind providence of her God; and she acknowledged her indebtedness by labouring to exemplify it. To honour the Lord with her substance and with the first fruits of her increase, in the persons of his servants and of his poor, was ever to her a sacred duty, seasoned with the highest delight. Limited as was her income, it more than sufficed for her personal wants; and while she might have contrived to save pounds from the surplus, she contrived not to save a penny; but chose rather to convert it with her own hands in her kitchen into aliments, and in her parlour

into garments for her Father's poor. It may put in jeopardy any reputation I may have for disinterestedness, if I add another particular instance of my late dear friend's worth; but in token of the affection I cherish for her memory, to signify a feeling of gratitude I entertain to my Lord and Master, and to exhibit a pattern I hold to be worthy of imitation, I will run the risk. It was found on her decease that the servants of God, and his poor, whom she had always affectionately loved and assiduously cared for, were kindly remembered by her when, some ten years since, she made her last will and testament. By that instrument she bequeathed to them legacies, which, if absolutely in themselves, or relatively in proportion to the whole, but small sums, are enough to evince a recognition of her indebtedness to Divine Providence for all; they are enough to confer a valued benefit; they are sufficient instances of doing good and communicating, to be sacrifices with which God is well pleased: and they are as much as might fairly be given consistent with the reasonable expectations of her numerous kinspeople.

But what of her frailties, her failings, and her faults? Well, of course, she had them; but without drawing on the nil nisi bonum principle of charity to the dead, it may be confidently affirmed that those who were most conversant with her would find it a difficult task to give the least proof of the least injury they ever sustained by either. For myself I may say that during the twelve years of my pastoral connection and close friendship with her, she has never given me a moment's pain, nor cost me five minutes' unrest through either.

As has been observed, her removal was sudden. There is therefore nothing to be said from the observation of onlookers as to how, in her instance, the last enemy overcame and was overcome; nothing to be said but that she was, in different senses, the victim and the victrix of death at a single blow.

The honourable mention made by the Lord Jesus of the woman who anointed

him with the precious ointment, "She hath done what she could," strongly arrested my attention after my dear friend's decease, as a highly appropriate expression of her life, and I therefore made it my text for her funeral sermon. Daughters of Israel, suffer the kindly exhortation of a friend. Let it be your elevated life aim to emulate the example, to imitate the conduct, to covet the character, to be alike

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embalmed in loving memory, and to reap the rewards of dear Esther Goffe, who was, I think, in the largest and best sense the word can so signify, A MOTHER IN ISRAEL. ISRAEL ATKINSON.

MR. JAMES ATMERE. THE following is a brief statement of the Lord's gracious dealings with James Atmere, late of Bungay, in the county of Suffolk, a man for many years eminent for steadfastness of christian faith, purity of principles, integrity of conduct. The account is partly written by himself and partly by his bereaved niece, who lived with him many years, and acted for him as housekeeper.

He commences his narrative by saying, "I was born in sin and shapen in iniquity, and my first young pulse began to beat iniquity and death, the seeds of every sin were in my mortal frame, and even in childhood did these seeds spring up, bud, blossom and bring forth fruit corresponding with their filthy nature; and I found to my sorrow that "Man born bad, grows worse and worse," for as I advanced in years I discerned that the carnal mind was enmity against God, it being impossible for it to be subject to His good and holy law.

In my childhood I was much afflicted in body, and repeatedly exposed to great danger, and can but admire the providential hand of God in my preservation from death when He was altogether unknown of me; but when very young I had some faint impression of the existence of a God, of Heaven, and of Hell, and on one occasion after hearing my father read that passage in the book of the Revelation which says, "I saw the dead, small and great stand before God," and which also says, "and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books according to their works," I became very much concerned about my eternal state; for those words seemed almost constantly upon my mind, and one night I dreamed that the world was then to be at an end, and I thought the stars were falling from Heaven and as I perceived myself to be in a green yard, I thought I laid me down upon the grass and held up both my hands to prevent them falling upon me; but all on a sudden I thought I was lifted from the earth and carried up through the air toward Heaven, and such a happy state of mind was I in while ascending upwards as is inconceivable and indescribable, but I awoke and behold it was a dream.

About this time I purchased Watts's Divine Songs for children, and read some of them with pleasure, insomuch that I committed them to memory and often repeated them with child-like delight after retiring to rest at night; but the time had come when I must leave the parental roof and enter upon service in the family of a neighbouring farmer, where I endured some degree of hardships; and while in this place the abominable evils of my nature broke forth to such an awful extent that I clearly perceived that by sin against God I had exposed myself to death in all its dreadful forms, and in all its bitter and eternal consequences; and as I often fancied myself standing as a guilty criminal before the judgment seat of Christ, the lines of Watts would flow into my mind to the great horror of my soul,

"Must all the crimes which I have done,

Be read and published there,--
Be all exposed before the sun,
While men and angel's hear,"

And oh with what shame and confusion of face was I filled at the thought of all my foul transgressions being laid open to the gaze of men and angels, and I vainly wished I could have shrank into nothing in the presence of the Eternal All, or that I had been anything rather than a sinful, accountable, and miserable human being; for I saw nothing before me but misery of mind in this world, and endless woe in that which was yet to come. And now the thought came into my mind that I would have recourse to intoxicating drink and all other worldly pleasures which might come in my way; but the longer I pursued such a course, the greater was my mental distress, for I was now not only brought to the judgment seat in my apprehension, but all the horrors of the ever burning lake were opened to my view; and awful as was the thought, I felt persuaded that there I must for ever dwell with no other company than

that of devils, lost and wicked men, and, "That in liquid torments or on dry to dwell, Would be all the variety of hell."

In this dreadful state of mind I was tempted to commit a dreadful act; but the Lord was my preserver, although what my feelings then were none can describe but those who have been similarly exercised.

I now thought I would alter my course of life and abstain from the more gross sins in the full practice of which I had hitherto been living, and I also determined to attend some place of worship. The place I first went to was a Wesleyan Chapel, and I returned as I went, except that the text would often be upon my mind. After this I went to hear an Independent minister in a barn; the text was "How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation." But so blind and ignorant was I, that I could understand nothing of the meaning of what the preacher said, and although the word salvation would be much upon my mind, I could not comprehend its meaning! Again, I heard another minister preach a sermon to young people, the text being, "I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me; but I could

get no comfort from what was said, as I saw nothing but my own vileness, and, as I then thought, other people's holiness and purity; yet the text itself would sometimes come into my mind with a little sweetness and power. I now heard another minister preach from the following words, “Surely after that I was turned I repented, and after that I was instructed I smote upon my thigh; I was ashamed, yea, even confounded, because I did bear the reproach of my youth." Here was a complete statement of my feelings, for I knew well that I was indeed ashamed and confounded on account of the filthiness of my life, but the text would often be upon my mind and at times encouraged me to hope. (To be continued.)

A NEW YEAR'S WISH.

I WISH you God's good Spirit from above, To shed within your heart His holy love." (Rom. v. 5.) I wish it ne'er may cool as years may flow, But clearer, stronger, deeper, warmer grow. (Phil. i. 9.) I wish that rescued from the power of sin, THAT love may make and keep you pure within. (Rom. vi. 22.)

I wish it may with sweet, yet strong control, From glory unto glory change your soul;! (2 Cor. iii. 18.)

Till to your Saviour's likeness fully wrought, His love doth perfect what his blood hath bought. (1 John, iv. 17. 18.)

I wish at once, whate'er all bliss ensuresIn love made perfect,-and that love be yours. (Eph. iii. 14-19.)

USE ME!

Make use of me, my God!
Let me not be forgot;
A broken vessel cast aside,
One whom thou needest not.
I am thy creature, Lord,

And made by hands divine;
And I am part, however mean,

Of this great world of thine. Thou usest all thy works;

The weakest things that be, Each has a service of its own,

For all things wait on thee. Thou usest the high stars,

The tiny drops of dew, The giant peak and little hill;My God, oh use me too! Thou usest tree and flower,

The rivers vast and small, The eagle great, the little bird That sings upon the wall. Thou usest the wide sea,

The little hidden lake,

The pine upon the Alpine cliff,
The lily in the brake.

The huge rock in the vale,

The sand grain by the sea,

The thunder of the rolling cloud, The murmur of the bee.

All things do serve thee here,

All creatures, great and small; Make use of me, of me, my God, The meanest of them all!

H. BONAR.

THE CHRISTIAN'S CALLING.

"If that I might apprehend that for which I am apprehended in Christ Jesus."-PHIL. iii. 12.

Hast thou ever apprehended,
Christian, what we're called to?
Dost thou know the blessed purpose
Which Jehovah has in view?
Why such poor and worthless sinners
As ourselves are quickened-saved?
We, who madly spurned the Saviour,
And eternal vengeance braved?
'Tis that he might have the glory
Of salvation, all his own;
'Tis that Christ might have a partner
Sitting with him on the throne;
'Tis that in the coming ages

God his kindness great might show,
And His rich and sovereign mercy,
Given us in Christ to know.

Hence he takes a base material

Which by man would be refused-
Takes the beggar from the dunghill,
Takes the wretched, and the bruised,
Takes the guilty, poor, and outcast,
And the self-abhorring one,

So to form a new creation

For the glory of His Son.

Thus by grace anew created,

Slaves no more of lust and sin,

Raised from death and condemnation,

We a life of faith begin;

Life received-by this we labour;

Called from heaven--to heaven we go; There our hearts' affections centre, While we battle here below.

And must I return to a desert like this?

Oh, world-how insipid, how trifling, thou❜it grown!

Must I still play my part on this clamorous stage, And mingle once more with my brethren below; Must I still in the spiritual conflict engage,

And groan 'neath the load of my indwelling foe? Cease, murmurer, cease; thou proud rebel be still; Presume not to question the righteous decree; O, Father, conform my whole soul to thy will, Then life as thy gift will be precious to me. What though the crown glitters not yet on my brow, And the golden stringed harp is withheld from my hand?

They are mine as securely as if I could now
With Jesus my Saviour in Paradise stand!
Safe, safe, in his keeping they're laid up for me,
And I soon shall his power and faithfulness
prove;

My own they are seal'd by eternal decree,

And my Lord's is a fixed and unchangeable love. Thy glory, my God, is the end of my days; To thy glory I'd live, to thy glory I'd die; May the time thou'st assigned ine be spent to thy

praise,

Till thou call me to join in thy praises on high.

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CRACK?

A LADY came home from shopping one day, and was not met as usual by the glad welcome of her little son. He seemed

shy of her, skulked into the entry, hung about the garden, and wanted to be more with Bridget than was common. The mother could not account for this manner. When she was undressing him for bed he said, "Mother, can God see through the crack in the closet door?" "Yes," said his mother. "And can He see when it is all dark there?" 66 "Yes," answered the mother; "God can see everywhere and in every place." "Then God saw me, and I will tell you, mother. When you were gone, I got into the closet, and took and ate up your cake; and I am sorry, very sorry," and, bowing his head on his mother's lap, he burst into tears.

"TOO BUSY!"

"MA, will you teach me a hymn-my little hymn, I mean? Nurse says she is too busy. Are you too busy, ma? "Why yes, dear, I am, just now. I want to finish this cuff. Run away and play." "What is a cuff, ma?" "Cuff! a sleeve, my dear -run away." "Where shall I run to, Anywhere, dear-into the garden." The young mother worked on very busily, and her Sammy ran through the open door into the front garden. After

ma ?"

some time the little fellow ran hastily into the parlour, saying " Oh, ma, do come and see a great black sheet, and all black people! What is it?" "Oh, I hear the knell," said Mrs. Lane; "I dare say it is a funeral, Willie; poor Miss Lacy is going to be buried." "Buried, ma! What is buried: " "Put into a grave, my boy." "Shall I be buried, ma?" "Yes, dear, no doubt, some day." "Shall I be put into a grave with you, ma?" "No, dear, that is not likely." "But, ma, I don't like being put in all by my own self." "Run away, dear, and play with your flowers. I am busy."

The dews of evening fell on little Willie while his mother and his nurse were "too busy" to attend to him; and the next funeral knell that was heard in the village where Willie lived called the mourners to lay the little questioner in the grave, "all by himself." He died of inflammation of the chest, occasioned by taking cold in the garden when his mother was busy. Mrs. Lane did not finish her pretty cuffs. She says she never can, for when she looks at them she imagines she hears a sweet gentle little voice saying, “Ma, will you teach me my little hymn?

Young mothers, do lay aside your fancy work when your precious child claims your attention. Perchance you will not have him long to be your pupil, or your voice may be silent, and your little Willie may hear your funeral knell.

THREE LITTLE BIOGRAPHIES. (The Moral to be drawn by the reader.)

BEAUTIFUL COMPOSITION

WAS a poor flimsy-looking person, but made much of by pride, superficiality, respectability, and ignorance; who dressed him up in very costly attire, built him a fine temple, with elaborately carved pulpit, and then brought crowds together to hear him very much like themselves, and thus got him £500 a year.

SPIRITUAL THOUGHTFULNESS

WAS slim, but strong; with a pale but intelligent face, a seedy coat, and all but empty pocket; he was but little known and seldom loved. He had a few friends, named Spiritual Strength, Sincerity, and Truth; who were like himself-poor' and often hard put to it. So pale-faced Thoughtfulness made, it was said, but little progress; preached in a plain deal box in a back street, and foolishly imagined that his thoughts would make way without pa