THE TWO DEATH BEDS. and if, as I feel must be the case, my death be near at hand, I trust that, through the merits of my Saviour, to die will be my gain. In the world I have had tribulation, but in Christ I have peace-precious peace." Seeing that he was too weak to bear much conversation, I simply commended him in prayer to God, and left him with a promise that I would visit him again the next day. On my return to the Park, I found that Sir William was perfectly sensible, and desired to see me. When I entered the room, he bade his attendant withdraw, and, taking my hand in his as I seated myself by the bed, he exclaimed 'Emerson, I am very miserable." "And in truth, my dear friend,” replied I, "it grieves me to the heart to see you in this condition." "It is not that-it is not that," he said with quickness; "what is the pain I suffer-what even is the sorrow"-here his voice faltered-" of my wife? All this might be borne, but do you know"-in the deepest tone of thrilling emotion"do you know-I dread to die?" "Let me beg you, then," I said, "to look to that Divine Saviour who has destroyed death, and him that had the power of death." 66 Ay, there is my misery," he rejoined; "I have rejected the Saviour, and now he has rejected me." "Oh no!" I cried, "the sinner that cometh unto him he will in no wise cast out." "I tell you," repeated Sir William, "that I have rejected him, and he has justly rejected me." He paused for a moment, then summoning his remaining strength he added, "I will tell you all. You know how, in years gone by, I disregarded religion, and maintained that any worship, if sincere, was acceptable to the Deity; and that we need only avoid grossness of conduct to possess all the virtue that could by possibility be required. This was generally my opinion, and I had almost forgotten that any one could entertain another, till about six months ago I was called to the death-bed of a near relation, my mother's sister. She showed me in what peace a true christian could die, and earnestly entreated me to seek the favour of God in his Son. I was impressed at first with the importance of what she said, but the impression has worn off; and-shall I speak the truth?—I have striven to efface it. I have combated conviction till I have entirely extinguished it. It is true, that THE TWO DEATH-BEDS. from time to time unpleasant thoughts have risen in my mind -and perhaps you may have observed me occasionally dispirited; that was the reason-but I have persisted, in neglecting the Bible, and in disregarding prayer; I have forced myself to believe that my upright character was enough. I have, in my prosperity, rejected Christ, and now I feel that he, in my adversity, has rejected me. I now see that there can be salvation in no other; I now see the necessity of a change of heart, which, as a child, I was, by a pious mother taught, but, alas! I see all this too late." The agony of my unfortunate friend's mind was most distressing; I endeavoured to comfort him with the assurance that the blood of Jesus Christ can cleanse from all sin, and that if, with simple confidence in him, he would look to his cross he would assuredly find relief. But he withstood every attempt to console him, and persisted that, after his resolute rejection of the Saviour, the Saviour had justly rejected him. I left the room in bitter affliction at the contrast I had witnessed. In the poor man's hut, where there was no earthly consolation, where poor Hopkins lay on a flock bed in racking pain, without a friendly hand to wipe off the chill dews of death as they gathered on his brow, there was peace and joy, a sure trust in the Redeemer's merits, a hope that was full of immortality. Death was welcomed as the gate of everlasting life. In the rich man's hall, where every hand was ministering to his necessities, and all that human power could effect was done; in a splendidly furnished chamber lay Sir William his bodily pains had almost ceased, but his heart was filled with disquiet, and his anticipations were misery. Death was dreaded as the portal of an unseen state which he shuddered to contemplate. I shall not attempt to describe the agonizing scenes of that night and the next morning. Sir William slept little. Over his pallid countenance swept rapidly shade after shade of strong emotion, and his unresting eye glared on each by turns of those that watched beside his bed. Several times I offered up prayer for him, but prayer seemed to give him no ease. I read portions of the Scripture to him, but he fixed on every threatening rather than on a promise. Nature was now fast sinking, and at nine o'clock, October, 18- Sir William expired. His last words, as well as we could catch the low murmur of his voice, were "O Son of God, would that I had not rejected thee till it was TOO LATE!" Over his grave THE TWO DEATH-BEDS. a veil must be cast. It is not for us to know how far, even at his last hour, Christ might mercifully pluck this brand from the burning. But such an end does utter an awful warning to men to lay hold of, in their day, the things that make for their peace, before they be hidden from their eyes. In the afternoon I was reminded of my promise to visit Hopkins, by a little boy from a neighbour's cottage, who brought me a message from the dying man, begging me to hasten down to him, that he might see ne once more. I crossed the park, therefore, immediately, and soon stood beside him. Upon his features a heavenly peace seemed to rest. 66 "I am a guilty sinner," he feebly said, "but my Saviour's blood, I can trust, has washed away my transgressions. Oh that I could glorify him more! I go where there will be no more pain, no more poverty or sickness. Happy, happy lot!" “Are you in much pain?" I asked. "Oh yes! very much, but Christ helps me to bear it." "And are you depending on his merits only for acceptance." "On him alone," he answered; "he is my only hope." "And he will not leave you nor forsake you," I replied. "No, God is faithful; his promises in Christ are yea and amen. Oh glory!" he said with a faltering tongue, and sunk into a lethargic doze. I waited his awaking. In about a quarter of an hour he slowly opened his eyes, stretched out his hand as if to grasp mine, and then feebly uttering some words of which I could only catch one-"faithful!" after a short struggle he fell asleep in Jesus. Happy art thou, I thought, my poor brother; happier in thy low estate than the rich man in his wealth. Thou art, doubtless, now before the throne of God, where "the wicked cease from troubling," and "the weary be at rest." Sir William and John Hopkins were buried the same day, at church. A long train of carriages and many mourners accompanied the body of the baronet, as it was laid in the sumptuous tomb of his fathers. The bearers alone stood round the grave of Hopkins. If this simple narrative makes the impression I desire on those who read it, they will see how far better it is to be poor in this world, and rich in faith, than to have their good things here, with no treasure in heaven. May they learn, when good and evil, when life and death are set before them, may they learn, and be strengthened thereto by God's Holy Spirit, to choose the good, that their souls may live for ever! POETRY.-ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS. Poetry. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? WHAT is your life?-a cloud-a mist- What is your life ?-an infant's span- A lightning flash or aught more rare! Suspending souls 'twixt Heaven and Hell, The soul for mansions in the sky! What is your life?-ask saints above, To 'scape from Hell, and flee to Heaven. While still the circling minutes roll; Cling to the cross, and save your soul! Anecdotes and Selections. THE BLACK EWE.-Some time ago, as a gentleman was passing over one of the extensive downs in the west of England, about mid-day, where a large flock of sheep were feeding, and observing the shepherd sitting by the roadside, preparing to eat his dinner, he stopped his horse, and entered into conversation with him to this effect: "Well, shepherd, you look cheerful and contented, and, I dare say, have very few cares to vex you. I, who am a man of pretty large property, cannot but look at such men as you with a kind of envy." "Why, sir," replied the shepherd, 'tis true I have not troubles like yours; and I could do well enough was it not for that black ewe that you see yonder, amongst my flock. I have often begged my master to kill, or sell her; but he wont, though she is the plague of my life; for no sooner do I sit down to look at my book, or take up my wallet to get my dinner, but away she 99 sets off over the down, and the rest follow her; so that I have many a weary step after them. There, you see she's off, and they are all after her." "Ah, friend," said the gentleman to the shepherd before he started, "I see every man has a black ewe in his flock to plague him as well as me!" The reader can make the application. A SNARE OF THE DEVIL.-The following anecdote of that great and good man, Mr. Richard Cecil, I conceive, may afford a useful hint to some of your readers, as I trust it did to the writer :-I ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS. had been known to Mr. Cecil as an occasional hearer, and by soliciting his advice on my commencing master of a family: but some years had passed since I had enjoyed the pleasure of speaking to him, when he called at my house, on horseback (being then unable to walk) and desired to speak with me. After the usual salutations, he addressed me thus: "I understand that you are very dangerously situated." He then paused. I replied, that I was not aware of it. He answered, "I thought it was probable you were not; and, therefore, I called on you. I hear you are getting rich. Take care, for it is the road by which the devil leads thousands to destruction!" This was spoken with such solemnity and earnestness that the impression will ever remain on my memory. THE HAPPY PEOPLE!-The late venerable Mr. Beddome, minister of the baptist church, at Bourton-on the-Water, Gloucestershire, being on a journey, stopped at an inn at Wotton Basset, a small town in Wiltshire, where he was quite a stranger, to take refreshment. A widow woman who then kept the house, concluding from his appearance that he was a clergyman of the establishment, anxious to please her guest, said, after serving him obligingly with everything he called for, "Sir, the inhabitants of this place are a very happy people." "I am glad of that," said Mr. B., "but for what reason are they so happy?" added he. "Why, sir," answered his hostess, 66 we have but one dissenter in the town, and he is a Roman Catholic; and you know, sir, they are the best of them!" The good man, not willing to confound her, pleasantly passed off the matter without making himself known. REPROOF OF PROFANENESS.-A late distinguished president of one of our western colleges was one day walking with slow and noiseless step, when a youth, who had not observed his approach, while engaged in cutting wood, began to swear profanely in his vexation. The president stepped up, and said, "Give me the axe;" and then quietly chopped the wood up himself. Returning the axe to the young man, he said in his peculiar manner, “You see now the wood may be cut without swearing." The reproof was effectual, and led, we have reason to believe, to an entire abandonment of that impious habit. EXPERIENCE.-Wesley says, "When I was young, I was sure of everything; in a few years, having been mistaken a thousand times, I was not half so sure of most things as I was before; at present, I am hardly sure of anything but what God has revealed to man in the Bible." CREDULITY OF INFIDELITY.-An English king hearing the celebrated Vossius, a freethinker, repeating some incredible stories of the Chinese, turning to those about him, said, "This learned divine is a very strange man. He believes everything but the Bible." |