No profit canst thou gain To Him commend thy cause; His ear Give to the winds thy fears! He hears thy sighs, He sees thy tears, Through waves, and clouds, and storms, Trust but to Him; so shall thy night MR. SIMEON'S SERVANT. THE Reverend Charles Simeon, of King's College, Cambridge, "whose praise is in the churches," thus wrote to his friend, Mrs. Ring: "MY VERY DEAR MADAM, "Jan. 28, 1808. "This is indeed a vale of tears. Two letters I have this moment opened: the first informs me that my faithful and affectionate servant (my man's wife) is dangerously ill; the next brings me tidings of your sister's death. In the former case, self is blended with my sorrow my loss, if she is taken from me, will be very great." He hastened home, and, two days afterwards, wrote thus to Mr. Ring: - King's College. Jan. 30, 1808. "MY DEAREST BROTHER, "I have just suffered a most afflictive stroke,the loss of a most faithful, diligent, and affectionate servant who has lived with me about ten years. The same letter which told me how imminent her danger was, informed me I might have one week's longer furlough; and I felt my mind much distracted between the desire to spend that week with you, and my sense of duty to her. As your disorder was not such as to require my continued attendance, or to excite any immediate danger, I thought my duty to her demanded my presence here; and now that she is gone, my soul is exceedingly rejoiced at having torn myself from you C to wait upon her. I found her sensible, but not by any means comfortable in her soul. Her fears preponderated, and darkened her mind; nor did anything I said to her seem to inspire peace into her soul. Fearing the physician might not pay all the attention her situation required, I called on him, and begged him to attend her twice or thrice a day till the disorder should abate. He went, and called a third time that day; but gave me no very great hopes of her recovery. This morning, I was with her about half-past seven, and it appeared that she was about to be taken away from us. I conversed and prayed with her; but still all my inquiries relative to her views of the Saviour and her affiance in Him were answered by a shake of her head, intimating that she was not able to commit herself to Him with confidence. I returned to my room to breakfast, and then went immediately to her again; but still could get nothing but a shake of the head. This was exceedingly distressing to me, and I endeavoured, with many tears, to set forth again to her the willingness and sufficiency of Christ. Upon this, with a distinct and audible voice, she cried, 'Lord save me!' And I then again prayed with her to that God whom I have long known to be a God that heareth prayer.' And oh! how gracious was God to His poor supplicants! I still continued talking with her; and on asking her again whether God had heard our prayer, and whether she was now able to trust in the Saviour and to cast all the burthens of her soul upon Him, she gave me a most significant and expressive nod. I then told her, if she felt peace in her soul to squeeze my hand; and she squeezed it instantly. This was the signal for our thanksgiving to God; and immediately, with the ut most ardour of our souls, we praised and adored our God, who had heard prayer in her behalf, and who had caused light to arise in her darkness. In less than an hour afterwards, she departed to her eternal rest, Though I watched her continually, as did Charles, her husband, and attendants, we could not tell at what time her spirit took its flight. I had her hand in mine, and should not have been convinced at last that she was dead if her medical attendant had not told me that she was so. "Thus have I been bereaved of the greatest treasure that a man can possess. I had fondly hoped that she would have had to close my eyes, and have often been comforted with the thought of having such an attendant in my last hours. But, in the midst of my affliction, I cannot express how thankful I am for having been permitted to attend her in her last hours, and for those expressions of her hope which I felt and saw. But why do I trouble you with this? I do it that you may be stirred up to improve with greater diligence the time that is afforded you; and that you may cry day and night unto your God, to give you tokens of His acceptance, before you come into circumstances wherein the light of God's face will be the only support and comfort of your soul. Oh, may God be graciously pleased to pour out His spirit upon you in a more abundant measure than He has yet done; and while you have yet time to glorify Him on earth, may He make you a distinguished monument of His grace and mercy. Little did I think, when I was buying the shawl and jaconet for her, I should so soon have to present her with a winding-sheet. I intend to officiate at her funeral myself, though she did not die in my parish. "I will just add, that I lay no stress on those expressions of her hope I have been speaking of, as though they were necessary to her salvation; but, coming as they did from a person who had always to that moment been exceeding diffident of her state, they are a source of great comfort to your very affectionate brother, "CHARLES SIMEON," CHARLOTTE PARKES. WE were living on the pleasant banks of the Thames when my mother engaged Charlotte Parkes to nurse my little brother. Parkes was a widow, of about forty years of age. Her person was plain, but her appearance highly respectable, and her manners, habits, and way of thinking and expression, superior to her station. In fact, she had been born in a position much above it, but had lost the goodwill of her friends by marrying beneath her. She never spoke much of her husband: probably, there was little to say of him, good or bad. He died, and left her in poverty, with two little children, one of whom, a little boy, soon died. The question then arose, how should she support herself and her little girl? She thought of opening a school, but this did not seem very promising; at length she resolved to put her little Fanny out to nurse, under the eye of a kind friend, and enter into service. She It was curious to have a woman in the nursery who could play on the piano, read French, &c., and who had a very large stock of books, a gold watch, and many other things not usually possessed by a servant. gave herself no airs with the other servants, thought nothing beneath her that properly belonged to her place, was industrious, quiet, frugal, strict in her religious duties, and esteemed by us all. Sometimes, while she brushed my mother's hair or mine, she would talk of former times, or converse on the affairs of the day, quite as sensibly as a well educated and thoughtful person would be expected to do. |