POETRY:-"A CHILD'S DREAM." family of Kohath, and Dathan, Abiram, and On, of the family of Reuben. Now, it is a singular circumstance, that some thirteen chapters before this chapters occupied with matters of quite another character, it is mentioned incidentally that "the families of the sons of Kohath were to pitch on the side of the tabernacle southward." And in another chapter, yet farther back, we read, no less incidentally: "On the south side (of the tabernacle) shall be the standard of the camp of Reuben according to their armies." The family of Kohath, therefore, and the family of Reuben both pitched on the same side of the tabernacle; they were neighbours, and were therefore conveniently situated for taking secret counsel together. Surely this singular coincidence comes of truth-not of accident-not of design.* The sacred narrative nowhere states the motives which led the conspirators to engage in this rebellion; but on a careful examination we discover, from a totally unconnected statement in another part of the book, that Korah was one of the chiefs in a family, the next in sacredness of function to Aaron and his sons, and therefore the most likely to feel jealous at their exclusive possession of the high priesthood; while Dathan, Abiram, and On were chiefs of the tribe of Reuben, the first-born of the sons of Jacob, and therefore, in all probability, dissatisfied with the pre-eminence of Moses. These reasons for the conduct of the guilty parties are so natural, and at the same time stated so incidentally, that we cannot but feel that the coincidence arises from truth, not from artifice. In the 32d chapter of Numbers, we have a joint petition from the tribes of Reuben and of Gad, to have a portion allotted them on the east side of Jordan, rather than in the land of Canaan. The reason assigned for this request is, that this district " is a land for cattle;" and these tribes possessed cattle. There was probably another reason, however, why these two tribes wished to establish themselves together in this territory; for, in the account given of the arrangements of the tribes in the wilderness, we find the tribe of Gad formed a division of the camp of Reuben.-Numb. ii. 10-14. Could anything be more natural, therefore, than that these two tribes, having been companions throughout all their weary wanderings in the desert, should have a strong desire to dwell together as neighbours in that country where they were finally to set up their rest? And yet no impostor would ever have thought of inventing such a circumstance, in order to account for the conjoint request preferred by these tribes. The last example we shall mention of coincidence without design, is drawn from the narrative of the punishment inflicted upon the Israelites for the worship of Baal-peor. It is not stated whether any one tribe was more * Veracity of the Five Books of Moses, pp. 155, 156. 499 guilty than the rest in this matter; it is merely said, that the number of "those who died in the plague was twenty and four thousand."— Numb. xxv. 9. We read, however, of an act of summary punishment inflicted upon one leading offender, whose name was "Zimri, a prince of a chief house among the Simeonites;" and so great was the importance attached to this act, that, on Phinehas putting this guilty person to death, the plague was stayed. On comparing the census of the people, taken shortly after this event, with the one made nearly forty years before at Sinai, it appears that, while the majority of the tribes had meanwhile increased in numbers, the tribe of Simeon had been reduced from fifty-nine thousand and three hundred to twenty-two thousand and two hundred.-Compare Numb. i. with xxvi. No reason is assigned for this extraordinary decrease in this one tribe, but is it not extremely probable that the tribe to which Zimri belonged had been the chief offenders at Baal-peor, and, therefore, the chief sufferers from the plague which was sent as a punishment for their sin? This conjecture derives additional weight from another circumstance. One of the last great acts which Moses was commissioned to perform was to punish the Midianites for their share in this very affair of Baal-peor. After executing this commission, he proceeds to pronounce a parting blessing on the people.-Deut. xxxiii. 6. On all the other tribes he implores the most precious blessings of earth and heaven, but the tribe of Simeon he passes over in silence—on it alone he bestows no benediction-a circumstance altogether unaccountable, except on some such supposition as that to which we have referred. It would be easy to produce many other striking examples of coincidence without design, which can be accounted for on no other principles than the veracity of the narrative that contains them; but those which have been adduced may suffice to show that the writings of Moses are no "cunningly devised fables," but a true and faithful narrative of great and marvellous events, which were recorded by that "holy man of God, who spake as he was moved by the Holy Ghost." A CHILD'S DREAM. The hope that e'en a glimpse of such A day-dream of its own. 'Tis of a child of five years old Upon whose peaceful sleep Fair visions of another world With silent footsteps creep; Soft as the dew on summer flowers, Or moonlight on the sea, The cheek, upon the pillow pressed, Wears joy's delightful tinge: A smile so sweet, it well might chide Thou happy sleeper! might I tell Where now thy spirit roams, So pangless and so pure as those Which now possess thy heart. For thou art in "the land of thought!" And far hast left behind The fading happiness of earth, Thine seems a foretaste of the boon Appointed for the blest; "Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest!" Thy spirit's yet infolded bud May seem too young to bear The full effulgence of that light Which bursts around thee there; Yet, in thy measure, Fancy deems Thy soul may now partake Those glories which the harps and songs Are transient glimpses given, A child's sweet dream of heaven! And is it not a lovely scene That greets thy vision now Where gratitude warms every breast, And hope in certainty fulfilled What seest thou in that realm sublime? Made perfect through the blood of Him The praise that is their own? Or look'st thou on the tree of life Or gazest thou upon that stream, Vain though it seem to ask or think Sleep, happy dreamer! sleep in peace, By visions such as these be nursed That so, from death's last dreamless sleep, To know the fulness of all joy, In glory without end! A POSTSCRIPT. "No child," some critic may perchance exclaim, "Would dream like this; or dream of heaven at all!" And how knowest thou, despite thy critic fame, What heavenly dreams on childhood's slumbers fall? One wiser far than thou, who cannot err In aught of heaven or heavenly things disclosed, Of guileless hearts the best interpreter, Hath said-Of such that kingdom is composed! Unlearn thy worldly wisdom; be no more By self-conceit presumptuously beguiled; But rather study that sweet, lowlier lore, Which makes its learner as a little child! BERNARD BARTON. JOHN WOOLLEY, A STORY FOR THE YOUNG, AND FROM WHICH THE OLD 4 MAY LEARN. (From Wesley's Journal.) SATURDAY, February 20, 1742.-I preached at Weaver's Hall. Several It was a glorious time. dropped to the ground, as if struck by lightning. Some cried out in bitterness of soul: I knew not where to end, being constrained to begin anew again and again. Sabbath, 21.-In the evening I explained the exceeding great and precious promises which are given us: a strong confirmation whereof I read in a plain artless account of a child whose body then lay before us. The substance of this (a part of it) was as fol lows: John Woolley was for some time in your school; but was turned out for his ill behaviour; soon after he ran away from his parents, lurking Mr CLOUD-LAND AND MOUNTAIN SCENERY, &c. about for several days and nights together, and hiding himself in holes and corners, that his mother might not find him. During this time he suffered both hunger and cold. Once he was three whole days without sustenance, sometimes weeping and praying by himself, and sometimes playing with other loose boys. One night he came to the New Room. --was then speaking of disobedience to parents. He was quite confounded, and thought there never was in the world so wicked a child as himself. He went home, and never ran away any more. His mother saw the change in his whole behaviour, but knew not the cause. He would often get up stairs by himself to prayer, and often go alone into the fields, having done with all his idle companions. And now the devil began to set upon him with all his might, continually tempting him to selfmurder. Sometimes he was vehemently pressed to hang himself, sometimes to leap into the river: but this only made him the more carnest in prayer; in which, after he had been one day wrestling with God, he was so filled with joy and the love of God, that he scarce knew where he was, and with such love to all mankind, that he could have laid himself on the ground for his worst enemies to trample upon. From this time his father and mother were surprised at him, he was so diligent to help them in all things. When they went to the preaching, he was careful to give their supper to the other children; and when he had put them to bed, hurried away to the Room, to light his father and mother home. Meantime, he lost no opportunity of hearing the preaching himself, or of doing any good he could, either at home or in any place where he was. One day walking in the fields he fell into talk with a farmer, who spoke very slightly of religion. John told him he ought not to talk so; and enlarged upon that word of the apostle (which he begged him to consider deeply): "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." The man was amazed, caught the child in his arms, and knew not how to part with him. His father and mother once hearing him speak pretty loud in the next room, listened to hear what he said. He was praying thus: "Lord, I do not expect to be heard for my much speaking. Thou knowest the secrets of my heart-thou knowest all my wants." He then descended to particulars. Afterwards he prayed very earnestly for his parents, and for his brothers and sisters by name; then for Mr John and Charles Wesley, then for all the other ministers he could remember by name, and for all that were, or desired to be, true ministers of Christ. In the beginning of his illness, his mother asked him if he wanted anything? he answered: "Nothing but Christ, and I am as sure of him as if I had him already." He said: "O mother, if all the world believed in Christ, what a happy world would it be !-and they may. I was the worst of sinners, and he died for me." On Wednesday, he said to his mother: "I am in very great trouble for my father. He has always taken an honest care of his family; but he does not know God. If he dies in the state he is in now, he cannot be saved. If God should give him the true faith, and then take him to himself, do not you fear, do not you be troubled. God has promised to be a father to the fatherless and a husband to the widow. And I hope we shall sing hallelujahs in heaven together." To his eldest sister he said: "Do not puff yourself up with pride. When you receive your wages, which is not much, lay it out in plain necessaries; and if you are inclined to be merry, do not sing songs-do you sing psalms and hymns. member your Creator in the days of your youth.' When you are at work, you may lift up your heart to God; and be sure never to rise or go to bed without asking his blessing." He added: "I shall 'Re 501 die; but do not cry for me. Why should you cry for me? Consider what a joyful thing it is to have a brother go to heaven. I am not a man-I am but a boy; but is it not in the Bible, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast ordained strength?' I know where I am going. I would not be without this knowledge for a thousand worlds; for though I am not in heaven yet, I am as sure of it as if I were." He said to his mother: "That school was the saving of my soul; for there I began to seek the Lord. But how is it that a person no sooner begins to seek the Lord, but Satan straight stirs up all his instruments against him?" When he was in agony of pain, he cried out: "O Saviour, give me patience. Thou hast given me patience, but give me more. Give me thy love, and pain is nothing. I have deserved all this, and a thousand times more; for there is no sin but I have been guilty of." A while after he said: "O my mother, how is this? If a man does not his work, the masters in the world will not pay him his wages. But it is not so with God. He gives me good wages; and yet I am sure I have done nothing to gain them. O it is a free gift!" In the On Thursday morning his mother asked him how he did? He said: "I have had much struggling to-night. But my Saviour is so loving to me, I do not mind it it is no more than nothing to me." Then he said: "I desire to be buried from the Room, and I desire Mr Wesley would preach a sermon over me, on these words of David (unless he thinks any other to be more fit): Before I was afflicted I went astray: but now I have kept thy word.”” I asked him, How do you find yourself now? he said: "in great pain, but full of love." I asked, But does not the love of God overcome pain? He answered: "Yes; pain is nothing to me. I did sing praises to the Lord in the midst of my greatest pain; and I could not help it." I asked him if he was willing to die? He replied: "O yes; with all my heart." I said, But if life and death were set before you, what would you choose then? he answered: "To die, and be with Christ. I long to be out of this wicked world." On Thursday night he slept much sweeter than he had done for some time before. morning he begged to see Mr John Wesley. When Mr Wesley came, and after some other questions, asked him what he should pray for? he said: That God would give him a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within him. When prayer was ended, he seemed much enlivened, and said: "I thought I should have died to-day; but I must not be in haste. I am content to stay. I will tarry the Lord's leisure." On Sabbath he spoke exceedingly little. On Monday his speech began to falter. On Tuesday it was gone; but he was fully in his senses-almost continually lifting up his eyes to heaven. On Wednesday his speech was restored. The next morning he spent in continual prayer, often repeating the Lord's Prayer, and earnestly commending his soul into the hands of God. He then called for his little brother and sister, to kiss them; and for his mother, whom he desired to kiss him. Then (between nine and ten) he said: "Now, let me kiss you: which he did, and immediately fell asleep. He lived some months above thirteen years. CLOUD-LAND AND MOUNTAIN SCENERY IN the autumn, when the fogs prevail, it is often a thick drizzling mist in Geneva, and nothing visible; while on the mountain tops the air is pure, and the sun shining. On such a day as this, when the children of the mist tell you that on the mountains it is fair weather, you must start early for the range nearest Geneva, on the way to Chamouny, the range of the Grand Saléve, the base of which is about four miles distant, prepared to spend the day upon the mountains, and you will witness one of the most singular and beautiful scenes to be enjoyed in Switzerland. The day I set out was so misty that I took an umbrella; for the fog gathered and fell like rain, and I more than doubted whether I should see the sun at all. In the midst of this mist I climbed the rocky zigzag, half hewn out of the face of the mountain and half natural, and passing the village that is perched among the high rocks, which might be a refuge for the conies, began toiling up the last ascent of the mountain, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, but the thick mist, the veil of which had closed below and behind me over village, path, and precipice, and still continued heavy and dark above me, so that I thought I never should get out of it. Suddenly my head rose above the level of the fog into the clear air, and the heavens were shining, and Mont Blanc, with the whole illimitable range of snowy mountain tops around him, was throwing back the sun! An ocean of mist, as smooth as a chalcedony, as soft and white as the down of the eider-duck's breast, lay over the whole lower world; and as I rose above it, and ascended the mountain to its overhanging verge, it seemed an infinite abyss of vapour, where only the mountain tops were visible-on the Jura range like verdant wooded islands on the Mont Blanc range as glittering surges and pyramids of ice and snow. No language can describe the extraordinary sublimity and beauty of the view. A level sea of white mist in every direction as far as the eye could extend, with a continent of mighty icebergs on the one side floating in it, and on the other a forest promontory, with a slight undulating swell in the bosom of the sea, like the long smooth undulations of the ocean in a calm. Standing on the overhanging crags, I could hear the chime of bells, the hum of busy labour, and the lowing of cattle buried in the mist, and faintly coming up to you from the fields and villages. Now and then a bird darted up out of the mist into the clear sun and air, and sailed in playful circles, and then dived and disappeared again below the surface. By-and-by the wind began to agitate the cloudy sea, and more and more of the mountains became visible. Sometimes you have a bright sunset athwart this sea of cloud, which then rolls in waves burnished and tipped with fire. When you go down into the mist again, and leave behind you the beautiful sky, a clear bracing atmosphere, the bright sun and the snowshining mountains, it is like passing from heaven to earth-from the brightness and serenity of the one to the darkness and cares of the other. The whole scene is a leaf in Nature's book which but few turn over; but how rich it is in beauty and glory, and in food for meditation, none can tell but those who have witnessed it. This is a scene in Cloud-land, which hath its mysteries of beauty, that defy the skill of the painter and engraver. The bird darting from the mist into the sunlight, was a very beautiful incident. "That," said Dr Malan to me, as I recounted to him the experience of the day, "is Faith-an emblem of Faith;" for so as that soaring bird from the earth, when it was dark and raining, flew up and up, and onward, undiscouraged, till heaven was shining on her wings, and the clouds were all below her, and then returned, not to forget that sight, but to sing to her companions about it, and to dwell upon it till clear weather; so does our Faith, when all looks dark and discouraging here, when within and around there is nothing but mist and rain, rise and still rise, and soar onwards and upwards, till heaven is visible, and God is shining in the face of Jesus Christ, and then, as it were, comes back with glad tidings, to tell the soul to be of good cheer, for that heaven is not far off, and to sing, even like the nightingale, in the darkness and the rain, for that soon again there shall be day-break and fair weather. And the memory of one such view of the gates of heaven, with the bright Alps of truth glittering around you, is enough to sustain the soul through many a weary day of her pilgrimage. When you see the face of Christ, all the darkness is forgotten, and you wonder what it was you were doubting about, and what it was that could have made you so perplexed and desponding. Because it is mist and rain here below, you are not therefore to suppose that it is raining on the mountains; it is all clear there. And besides, you know that the mist, the rain, the showers are necessary, and we cannot have them and the sunshine at the same time, though the showers that water the earth are as requisite to make it luxuriant as the sun's clear shining after rain. Any time Faith may get upon the mountains and see the Alps, though it is not to be done without labour. There must be much prayer and spiritual discipline, before you find that your head is above the mist, and heaven is shining around you. TRACT DISTRIBUTERS! TAKE THERE was in New York a German who had a wife and three children. He and his wife had from early life been Papists, and still retained their connection with what they supposed to be the infallible Church. But fatal disease prostrated the husband. It was at this time, now about a year ago, that a tract distributer called upon them, and was soon regarded as a messenger of mercy. After some religious conversation, they evinced a desire to possess a Bible, and the distributer procured one for them. It was read with much attention, and long before the sick man was conscious of the influence it was exerting, it made many hours of weariness and sorrow pass away pleasantly, and became his constant companion. Gradually light reflected upon his mind, but for a while it was only a glimmering that caused anxious solicitude rather than comfort. He saw that all was not well with him; and his mind becoming burdened he sent for a priest, hoping to obtain from him the consolations of religion. The priest came; but when he saw the Bible he very deliberately took possession of it, carried it away, and visited the sick man no more. Sorely grieved on account of their loss, and indignant at the wrong done to her, and especially to her dying husband, the wife went to the tract missionary of the ward and related what had occurred. As the missionary presented her with another copy of the Sacred Volume, he asked her: "If any other person than a priest had taken away your Bible, what would you have called the act?" "Theft," was the reply. "And was it anything else when done by a priest ?" "No," said the woman; "it was the same in him." From that time both the husband and wife studied the Word of God with increased diligence; then they sent their children to a Protestant Sabbath school, and appeared grateful when the distributer prayed with them. They removed to a distant part of the city, but the attention of the distributer was con tinued, and he had the pleasure of observing the power of divine truth, as the poor man's mind became more and more enlightened, until he that had cowered before a frowning priest enjoyed the smiles of h heavenly Father, and knowing that, for Christ's MISCELLANEOUS. sake, his sins were all forgiven, rejoiced in the liberty of the sons of God. 503 and stedfast, and upon them I will firmly and implicitly rely." Her tears were dried, and her murNot many days ago the distributer returned from murings for ever hushed. The event proved that her the country, after a short absence, and hastened to the residence of this family; but it was no more to see confidence was not misplaced. The congregation the joy that sparkled in the sick man's eye, or to reover whom her husband had worthily presided geneceive his hearty welcome, but to visit the widow and rously settled upon her a handsome annuity, by which the fatherless, and to hear that one, no longer with she was enabled to support her family, not only comthem, held fast the beginning of his confidence sted-fortably, but even genteelly. The talents of her sons, fastly unto the end, and died rejoicing in hope of the glory of God. To be honoured by such success as this, who would not be a tract distributer? WHO GIVETH SONGS IN THE NIGHT? WHEN, courting slumber, The hours I number, My wearied mind; This thought shall cheer me, Is still inclined. My soul Thou keepest, Thy Word has told me -Christian Keepsake. "THE LORD LIVETH." THERE dwelt in the east of Scotland a pious clergyman, who had presided for a number of years over a small but respectable congregation. In the midst of his active career of usefulness he was suddenly removed by death, leaving behind him a wife and a number of helpless children. The small stipend allowed him by his congregation had been barely sufficient to meet the current expenses of his family; and at his death no visible means were left for their support. The death of her husband preyed deeply upon the heart of the poor afflicted widow, while the dark prospect which the future presented filled her mind with the most gloomy apprehensions. By her lonely fireside she sat-the morning after her sad bereavement-lamenting her forlorn and destitute condition, when her little son, a boy of five years of age, entered the room. Seeing the deep distress of his mother, he stole softly to her side, and placing his little hand in hers, looked wistfully into her face, and said: "Mother, mother, is God dead?" Soft as the gentle whisper of an angel did the simple accent of the dear boy fall upon the ear of the disconsolate, and almost heart-broken mother. A gleam of heavenly radiance lighted up, for a moment, her pale features. Then snatching up her little boy, and pressing him fondly to her bosom, she exclaimed: "No, no, my son, God is not dead; helives, and has promised to be a father to the fatherless a husband to the widow. His promises are sure as they advanced in years, soon brought them into notice, and finally procured them high and honourable stations in society. Miscellaneous. THERE is a moral and spiritual sense in which two and two do not make four. "There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." "There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing: there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches." "The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it."-Prov. xi. 24, xiii. 7, x. 22. This is the spiritual arithmetic of the true Christian; while to the worldly wise it is a hard, unintelligible saying. Apply it to the breach of the Sabbath, as well as to every other source of unhallowed gain. HOPE is like the cork to the net, which keeps the soul from sinking in despair; and Fear is like the lead to the net, which keeps it from floating in presumption.- Watson. CAREFULLY avoid those vices which most resemble virtues they are the most dangerous of all vices. HE that riseth late in the morning must be in a hurry all the day, and scarce overtake his business at nignt. NEVER doth reason show itself more reasonable than when it ceaseth to reason about things which are above reason. THE SABBATH AND HEAVEN.-The happiness of heaven is the constant keeping of the Sabbath. Heaven is called a Sabbath, to make those who love Sabbaths long for heaven, and those who long for heaven love Sabbaths.-Henry. BODILY INFIRMITIES, like breaks in a wall, have often become avenues through which the light of heaven has entered to the soul, and made the imprisoned inmate long for release. DOING THE WILL OF GOD.-I had rather do the will of God than be able to work miracles.-Luther. THE PRESENCE OF GOD.-Privation of the presence of God is hell-a diminution of it is a step towards it. Fruition of his presence is heaven. And shall any man be afraid of having too much heaven-too much God?-Donne. say &c. I had rather enter into the meaning of this "LAY not up for yourselves treasures upon earth," ing, and be in full possession of the spirit of it, than be lord of the universe.-Adam. AN EARTHLY MINISTER.-When earthly things engross a minister's attention he will think more of this world than the next, and his preaching will savour more of the casket than the jewels. If he is not a spiritual man himself, he has no reason to people.-Hill. suppose that God will bless him with a spiritual HEAVEN ON EARTH.-I do not wish for any heaven on earth, besides that of preaching the precious Gospel of Jesus Christ to immortal souls.-Martyn. |