brought into the world: how entirely dependent, and how long it is before we can do anything for ourselves. We are by far the slowest of all animals. Why that sparrow there, that is fluttering his wings and hopping after his mother on the tiles, is but a few weeks old, and will soon be sent to get his own living, while this little baby will take months of tender nursing, and years of care and anxiety. But my time is up, and I have never yet been shut out or lost a quarter, and I am sure it won't do now I have a wife and a child to work for, so I must be off. Good-bye, wife, may the Lord bless and keep both you and baby.” "Good-bye, my dear, I shall long for your return."

M. B.

CORRESPONDENCE.

To the EDITOR,- Dear SIR,

A DEATH SCENE.

The human body, though formed out of the dust, bears the most evident marks of Divine power and wisdom. "I am fearfully and wonderfully made," says David. If the cabinet is so exquisitely wrought, how excellent must be the precious jewel that is lodged in it? We generally form our estimate of the value of things by the price paid for them; if we apply this to the soul, its excellence must be far beyond our comprehension. "None of them can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to God a ransom for him." For souls, the Son of God became incarnate, suffered, bled, and died. I have been led to these reflections by the following neverto-be-forgotten circumstance.

When I was located in the county of, in 1851, I was requested to visit a poor dying woman; she was seventy-seven years of age, and she had spent those years in total neglect of God and things divine. I took with me a pious leader, hoping that our united supplications to heaven might be heard on her behalf. When we were ascending the stairs, we heard oaths and imprecations, uttered by the dying woman, followed with, "Let them come in! oh, let them come in! I know who they are, they are more devils sent to torment me!" After standing by the bedside a few moments in silent prayer, I acquainted her with the object of our visit, and desired her to say how she felt; she instantly exclaimed, "Why I feel I am full of hell-fire" and putting her hand to her throat, she said, with awful emphasis, "full up to here, cannot you smell it? do you not see how full of devils the room is ?" My friend and I sung a few lines of that hymn beginning with

Come, ye sinners, poor and needy." We affectionately urged her to unite with us, but the only reply was with a frightful look and oath, "How can I sing who am full of hell-fire, and the room full of devils?" We endeavoured to direct her mind to Christ, as the sinner's friend, and Saviour of all, but she struck at us, cursed us, and employed words too horrid-far, far too horrid, to mention. We stayed with her about an hour, prayed with her, and for her, and then with sorrowful

hearts left her.

At our earliest opportunity we visited her again, but my blood almost becomes cold, even at this distance of time, to say how we found her; if possible worse and worse, she was evidently getting weaker, she was nearing her eternal state; but, oh! the obscenity, the awful blasphemiesalarming; if not interrupted by any questions being put to her, she tossed herself from one side of the bed to the other, and in deep sepulchral tones exclaimed, "I cannot rest, I cannot rest!" We at last went to prayer again. The moment we commenced, her arms were instantly stretched out rigid and stiff, her eyes directed upward, but as soon as

it was

prayer ended, her arms fell down, and her eyes again became restless, and she poured forth the same horrifying volume of imprecations and oaths. I believe the day following our second visit, she closed her earthly career. Just when she was dying, a pious female that was present spoke to her, saying, "You are dying?" " I am," she instantly replied. "Tell me," said the enquirer, "how you feel just now ?" "I am lost-I am damned!"—and with these words she entered a world of spirits, Who could look at a death-scene like this, in the nineteeth century, in a country like ours, professedly Christian, without tears and are there not thousands and tens of thousands in Christian Britain, "who are living without God !" and multitudes that perish for ever without an interest in Christ?

If you think the above worthy of a place in your excellent Magazine, I send it with the earnest prayerful desire that it may stimulate us all to increased devotedness, in the cause of our blessed Redeemer, and that such may be our lives and labours in the Saviour's service, that we may by grace secure the blessedness of those who "shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars, for ever and ever." I am, dear Brother,

Worle, July 4th, 1857.

Yours respectfully,

W. GRIFFITH.

TWENTY-ONE REASONS FOR OPEN-AIR PREACHING.

1. Because, it is commanded, "Go into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature," which can scarcely be done without out-door preaching.

2. Because, our Lord hath set the example. "And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain,"-" and he opened his mouth and taught them."

3. Because, it is found that many will hear a discourse in the open-air, who will scarcely ever hear one in a place of worship.

4. Because, it is the only way to reach the masses, who are "perishing for lack of knowledge."

5. Because, it is made evident that some interest is felt in the spiritual welfare of those who most need it, so that they cannot say, 66 no man careth for our souls."

6. Because, God's blessing has attended it almost wherever it has been practised.

7. Because, it is innocently becoming all things to men, to win some. "He that winneth souls is wise."

8. Because, many will not enter a place of worship; and if they will not come to us, it is our duty to go to them.

9. Because, the ambassadorial office carries with it this idea, that it is a message of merey, which is to be delivered to those for whom it is intended: which can scarcely be done without open-air preaching.

10. Because, it is one excellent means of securing prosperity in Christian churches, uniform experience having proved that in proportion to the interest felt for those without, has been the prosperity of those within.

11. Because, every Christian church is professedly a missionary one, and there are a vast number of practical heathens around us.

12. Because, people will hear ministers of another denominations without a place of worship, who could scarcely be persuaded to hear them within, which is so much gained.

13. Because, it is found that very poor people who have not, as they imagine, suitable raiment to attend a place of worship, will, without any loss of self-respect, attend service in the open air.

14. Because, the Gospel is emphatically offered "

without money

and

without price," nothing being required in the shape of seat-rents, or collections, which meets the wants and prejudices of many; and our Lord's joyful exultation is thus verified, "the poor have the Gospel preached to them."

15. Because, many notoriously wicked characters will attend openair service, who on no account would be seen inside a place of worship. 16. Because, even professed Atheists, and Deists, and scoffers at religion will listen to a discourse, where they would not be likely to be noticed, as in a crowd, whom you could not get to the house of God.

17. Because, the state of the church, which is split up into so many sections demands it, a minister being able to address people of every denomination, even the most exclusive, which he cannot do in his own place of worship.

18. Because, the state of the world demands it. Extraordinary agencies are at work to hinder Christianity, and extaordinary means should be employed to promote it, and of this we may say as David of Goliah's sword, "there is none like it." Paul, Fox, Wesley, Whitfield, and others, wielded this weapon to great advantage. It was out-door preaching which "turned the world upside down."

19. Because, it not only leads to a larger attendance at the house of God, but an accession of members, many declining churches having been revived, new ones formed, and become very prosperous by this means.

20. Because, it exhibits religion in its expansive and catholic character, as not confined to the gorgeous cathedral, or more humble meeting-house, but designed for those in the "highways and hedges" of the country, and the streets, lanes, and slums of our towns, and cities, to whom we are to go," and compel to come in, that God's house may be filled, " yet there is room."

21. Because, it is the only way "to warn every man, and teach every man," that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus, while the satisfaction the performance of the duty gives will be great, and the reward glorious. "Well done, good and faithful servant,' ""enter thou into the joy of the Lord." Bolton.

B. GLAZEBROOK.

HUMAN LIFE.

THE FIRST AND LAST MINUTE.

Minutes pass. The anxious husband paces slowly across his room. He is a father, a man-child is born unto him. Minutes pass--the child has been blest by a parent whom it cannot recognise, and pressed to that bosom to which instinct alone guides for sustenance; the young wife too has faintly answered to a husband's questions, and felt his warm kiss on her forehead.

Hours pass. The low moanings from the closely covered cradle, tell the first wants of its infant occupant. The quiet tread of the nurse speaks of suffering around her; while her glad countenance says, that the very suffering which she is trying to alleviate, is a source of joy, and the nameless articles which from time to time she arranges on the hearth, tell of a new claimant for the courtesies and attentions of those who have progressed further on the pathway of existence.

Days pass. Visitors are thronging the chamber, and the mother, pale and interesting after her recent illness, is receiving their congratulations, and listening proudly to their praises of the little treasure which lies asleep in its bed at her side. The scene shifts, and the father is there with

her alone, as the twilight deepens about them, while they are planning the future destiny of their child.

Weeks pass. The eyes of the young mother are sparkling with health, and the rose blooms again on her cheek, and the cares of pleasure and home engage her attentions, and the father is once more mingling with the world; yet they find many opportunities each day to visit the young inheritor of life; to watch over his dreamless slumber, to trace each other's looks in his countenance, and to ponder upon the felicity of which he is the bearer to them.

Months pass. The cradle is deserted, but the chamber floor is strewed with playthings, and there is a little loiterer among them, whose half-lis] ed words, and hearty laughs, and sunny countenance tell you that the entrance into life is over a pathway of flowers. The cradle is empty, but the last prayers of the parents are uttered over the small crib which stands by their own bed side, and their latest attention is given to the peaceful breathings of its occupant.

Years pass. Childhood has strengthened into boyhood, and gambolled along into manhood. Old connections are broken, parents are sleeping in their graves, new intimacies are formed, a new home is about him, new cares distract him. He is abroad, struggling amid the business of life, or resting from it with those he has chosen from his own generation; time is beginning to wrinkle his forehead, and thought has robbed his looks of their gaiety, and study has dimmed his eyes. Those who had begun life after he had grown up, are fast crowding him out of it, and there are many claimants upon his industry and love for protection and support.

Years pass. His own children have become men, and are quitting him, as he also quitted the home of his fathers. His steps have lost their elasticity, his hand has become familiar with the cane, to which he is obliged to trust in his walks. He has left the bustle which fatigued him. He looks anxiously in each days papers among the deaths, and then ponders over the name of an old friend, and tries to persuade himself that he is younger and stronger, and has a better hold upon life than any of his contemporaries.

Months pass. He gradually diminishes the circle of his activity, he dislikes to go abroad, where he finds so many new faces, and he grieves to meet his former companions after a short absence, they seem to have grown so old, so infirm. Quiet enjoyments only are relished; and a little conversation about old times, a religious treatise, and his early bed, form for him the sum total of his pleasures.

Weeks pass. Infirmity keeps him in his chamber. His walks are limited to the small space between his easy chair and his bed. His swollen limbs are wrapped in flannels. His sight is failing, his ears refuse their duty, and his cup is but half filled, since otherwise his shaking hand cannot carry it to his shrunk lips, without spilling its contents; his powers are weakened, his faculties are blunted, his strength is lost.

Days pass. The old man does not leave his bed; his memory is failing; he talks, but he cannot be understood; he asks questions, but they relate to the transactions of a former generation; he speaks of occurrences, but the recollection of no one around him can go back to their seems to commune with comrades, but when he names them, it is found that the waters of time and oblivion have long covered their tombs.

scenes;

he

Hours pass. The taper grows dimmer and dimmer; the machinery moves yet more and more slowly, the sands are fewer as they measure the allotted span. The motions of those about him are unheeded, or become a vexation. Each fresh enquiry after his health is a knell. The springs of life no longer force on its wheels, the "silver cord" is fast untwisting, the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and "time is a burden." His children

are about him, but he heeds them not; his friends are near, but he does not recognise them. The circle is completed. The course is run, and utter weakness brings the damp which ushers in the night of death.

THE MORAL CONDITION OF HAMBURG.

At the recent Anniversary of the CONTINENTAL EVANGELIZATION SOCIETY, "the Rev. J. G. Oncken gave the following description of the spiritual necessities of the continent of Europe. Every missionary effort, said he, of the right stamp, would be sure to meet with opposition, whether the field the missionary occupies is at home or abroad; and the home missionary, perhaps, had the hardest task, because his work was peculiarly felt to be aggressive, although it was the aggression of love. Persecution ought not to be thought surprising, for the Master himself had distinctly told his disciples-and the declaration applied to those who lived now as well as to his immediate followers-that in the world they should have persecution. The City Missionaries of London could no doubt tell a sad tale regarding the state of the people, but the German Missionary could tell one of a nature still more sorrowful. It was his lot, more than twenty-five years ago, to begin to labour as a Home Missionary in his native country. His work was to go into the heart of Christendom, and to proclaim to the people with a loud voice, "You are no Christians;" and this solemn charge he adduced evidence to prove. At the close of the last and the commencement of the present century, there was little else left of the glorious German Reformation besides the errors which Luther unhappily embodied in his catechisms, such as baptismal regeneration, confession, absolution, and the retention of the mutilated ten commandments. Twenty-five years ago, out of the large number of ministers in the city of Hamburg, there were only five who maintained the doctrine of the Divinity of our adorable Lord, all the rest were Rationalists. And it seemed that this state of things would continue, for out of thirty-four students for the ministry, who applied for examination at the hands of Dr. Rambach, only one professed his faith in the proper Divinity of Christ. Consequent upon such teaching in the pulpit the churches were deserted; for out of a population of 150,000, in the city of Hamburg, not more than 4,000 attended the places of worship. Happily the worst parts of England even presented a delightful aspect in comparison with this. He had heard a Home Missionary in Huntingdonshire, say, in a tone of deep lamentation, that in that county, numbering 60,000 people, only 33,000 attended places of worship on the Lord's-day. For himself, making the comparison between that county and his own city, he felt the proportion of attendance was most delightful and encouraging. Only think of the difference,- 150,000 people, and only 4,000 worshippers, and 500 of these attended the poor humble Baptist chapel. And let it not be supposed that Hamburg was the worst city or district in Germany. In the Grand Duchy of Mecklenberg, for example, things were still worse. In one district it appeared that a minister went to his church twenty-nine times with a sermon in his pocket, but had to return as often without preaching it, because not a living soul went near the place. In another town, in the Grand Duchy of Oldenberg, containing 6,000 souls, not more than twenty-five persons were found in the church on the Sabbath. Indeed, there was an almost universal defection from the worship of God; and the ministers were as universally Rationalistic in their views. In Hamburg, when he began his labours twenty-five years ago, the ministers of the National Church were utterly and irreconcilably opposed to the circulation of the Scriptures except by