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ON THE SCRIPTURES.

Holy Bible, book divine,
Precious treasure! Thou art mine;
Mine, to tell me whence I came;
Mine, to teach me what I am!

Mine, to chide me when I rove;
Mine, to shew a Savior's love;
Mine, art thou to guide my feet;
Mine, to judge, condemn, acquit!

Mine, to comfort in distress,
If the Holy Spirit bless;
Mine, to shew, by living faith,
Man can triumph over death!

Mine to tell of joys to come,
Of the rebel sinner's doom;
O, thou precious book divine!
Precious treasure! Thou art mine!

LETTER FROM A LADY TO HER HUSBAND.

(To be read after her death. ]

"MY TRULY DEAREST AND BELOVED HUSBAND,

"As I look upon my continuance here very precarious, and, from the nature of my disorder, I may not have it in my power to speak to you wben the awful king of terrors brings his summons; now, while I have the power to write, and reason to reflect, I with pleasure and gratitude employ a few minutes in addressing you.

“In the first place, I return you my most sincere and grateful thanks for all your long, kind, affectionate, and tender carc of me; I may say unremitting affection towards me amidst my many weaknesses and infirmities. I do beg of you to cast the mantle of love over my many

frailties and ungrateful behavior. I make no doubt but that my unholy and uosanctified tempers have often been a trial to you. I do lament them to you now, as I have often la. mented them before God; and I do beg that you will fol. low the example of your blessed Master, and remember that I am but dust. Whatever has been wrong, bury in oblivion. Think how the Lord hath born with me in this wilderness. He knew that I should deal treacherously from the womb; and yet, stupendous. love, he has borne with my backsliding heart, my refractory will, my rebellious spirit, my depraved, polluted nature; and, after all, those dreadful aggravations, hath magnified the riches of his grace by saying, Deliver that poor creature from going down into the pit; I have found a ransom. Oh! To grace how great a debtor!”

[Here she ended.]

THE DUMB SERMON.

Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith

the Lord.

The energy of this 'eternal truth was most forcibly ap. plied to tbe heart of the late Rev. W. Tennant, of America, on the following remarkable occasion. In his neighborhood resided a professed deist, a man of considerable at. taip inents as to worldly wisdom. He often, from whatever motive, attended the ministry of Mr. Tepoant, whose pow. ers as a preacher were of a superior kind; his skill in the scriptures being deep, and his style rich, argumenta. tive, and impressive. Learning once the intention of the deist to attend divine service on the following sabbath, Mr. Tennant most diligently prepared for the occasion, by nieditating upon, and fixing in his mind every argument which might work a conviction. Thus prepared, he ascended the pulpit. “But who is Paul, or who is A pollos? Paul may plant, and A pollos may water; but it is God that giveth the increase.” Praise and prayer being concluded, the discourse began; but soon the preacher's memory was plunged into perfect oblivion; and not being in the custom of using notes, he in vain endeavored to proceed; his mind was sealed up as to the subject of discourse; and he was under the painful necessity of confessing his inability, and concluded with prayer. The Spirit of God was now at work. The deist was led to reflect upon the extraordi. nary case; he had, on former occasions, experienced and admired Mr. Tennant's powers of oratory. From his concluding prayer on this occasion, he found him in vigor of miod. To what could he trace the sudden dereliction of his powers, when entering upon such a discourse? Happy man! He was led to discover in it the finger of God! The joyful change soon reached Mr. Tennant, who doubt. less, was deeply humbled and grateful; for he ever af. terwards spoke of his dumb sermon as the best he erer preached.

THE DEATH OF THE CHRISTIAN.

Death suddenly presented himself before a Christian. 6.Welcom! Thou messenger of immortality; thrice wel. come!” was the salutation of the good mau.

“How is this,” said death, "son of sin, dost thou not fear my approach?”

“No; he who is a Christian indeed, may view thee un. dismayed.”

“Caost thou behold me attended by sickness and dis. ease; canst thou observe the cold sweat distilling from my wings, without shuddering?”

Even so," replied the believer in Jesus.
"And wherefore is it that thou tremblest pot?"

“Because it is by them I am assured of thy speedy approach.”

“And who art thou, O mortal! That my presence hath no power to terrify?"

6 I am a Christian!" smiling with benignity on his stern visitor. pe Death then breathed upon him; and in an instant they both disappeared. A grave had opened beneath their feet; and I could observe something lying therein. I wept. Suddenly the sound of celestial voices attracted my attention, and I looked towards heaven. I saw the Christian in the clouds; his countenance was irradiated with the same smile as I had before observed upon it, and bis hands were clasped together. Glittering angels then approach. ed him, shouting, and the Christian shone resplendent as themselves. Again I wept. I now looked into the grave, and at once perceived what it contained; it was the Christian, having disrobed himself for his flight.

SURELY THE BITTERNESS OF DEATH IS PASSED.

WHEN bending o'er the brink of life,

My trembling soul shall stand;
Waiting to pass death’s awful flood,

Great God, at thy command!

When weeping friends surround my bed,

And close my sightless eyes;
When, shatter'd by the weight of years,

This broken body lies;

When ev'ry long lov'd scene of life

Stands ready to depart;
When the last sigh which shakes the frame

Shall rend this bursting heart;

0, thou Great Source of joy supreme,

Whose arm alone can save,
Dispel the darkness that surrounds

The entrance to the grave!

Lay thy supporting, gentle hand

Beneath my sinking head;
And with a ray of love divine,

Illume my dying bed.

Leaning on thy dear faithful breast,

May I resign my breath!
And, in thy fond embraces, lose

“The bitterness of death!"

THE POWER OF PREJUDICE.

A PROTESTANT clergyman, in Ireland, was called to visit a sick and dying woman. A Roman catholic, a very decent woman, was present. The clergyman took occa. sion to dwell on the love of the Savior, and the efficacy of

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