She has no fears that any accident will befall them, that sickness may waste their frames, or that death will hush their cherubic songs. Thank God! no funeral processions sweep through the golden streets of the New Jerusalem! The flowers of heaven bloom over no graveyards!

Had those babes grown up and gone out into this cold world of ours, they might have known want; but the mother indulges in no such fears now. They shall never hunger or thirst so long as golden clusters ripen on life's fair tree, so long as the streams of the river of life make glad the city of our God.

The mother of these babes indulges in the hope of meeting with her long-lost treasures beyond the dark river, to be separated from them no more. And it rejoices her, too, to remember, when the resurrection trump shall sound, that

times in these things greatly exceed and shame their parents. Among my pupils was the son of a linen-weaver: his parents were dead in trespasses and sins-no one prayed in the house. The eldest son, aged thirteen years, came, however, while in the school, to the knowledge of his Redeemer, and from that time prayed most diligently. His little brother slept with him in a chamber up-stairs, and complained to his parents : "Father-Mother-I can never now get to sleep directly of a night; for my brother kneels down before his bed, and talks so long with somebody."

One evening the curious parents crept softly after him, and listened at the door, and heard him fervently praise his gracious God for all his goodness, and then pray with such earnest supplications for his parents, for his brothers, and for all men, that they could not refrain from tears, and told their youngest son never to disturb his brother while thus employed; became themselves more serious, and laid no more stumbling-blocks in the way of the pious boy.

Let all who honour the Lord Jesus hear this with thankfulness and praise; and, oh, that the whole world might experience the everlasting sun of his grace!

ONE Sabbath afternoon, in the month of August, 1856, two companions met,-one a Sabbath-school

scholar, on his way to school; and the other, who had recently come into the neighbourhood, was in

duced, at the solicitation of his friend, to accompany him. This was Edwin Baldwin's first acquaintance with the Pendleton Independent Sunday-school. Being introduced to the superintendent, a very favourable impression was at once made on his mind, as he afterwards stated, by the hearty welcome which he gave him, and the kind way in which he spoke of the teacher of the first class of boys, to which he conducted him. From a conversation which his teacher had with him soon afterwards, it appeared he had been in the habit of attending the Sunday-school at Irlamsoth-Height, his birth-place, from his early youth; that when only four years of age, he had had the misfortune to lose his mother; and that his lameness (he used a crutch) had been occasioned by his falling from a tree when a boy.

Those who knew him say that he was always of a mild disposition, civil, and obliging; usually conducted himself with propriety, and was a well-behaved youth.

He

shunned to tell a lie or to swear, and had been known to resist the solicitation of those who attempted to lead him to places of a dissipating character. When young, he was rather fond of books, read frequently the narrative portions of the Bible, practised himself in writing and composition, and took other means to improve himself. He had early to struggle with life, being left to his own resources to support himself; he managed always, by his scheming industry, to be above want, and at the time of his admission to the Pendleton

school he held, with credit to himself, a good situation as clerk in a large Manchester warehouse.

He remained connected with the school about twelve months, during which time, though his attendance was not as regular as could be desired, his behaviour was always good; he was ever respectful to his teacher, had the esteem of his fellow-scholars, and at times displayed much interest in what was said on the lessons. One thing was, however, wanting,-he never manifested an anxious concern about his soul; his teacher's heart was never gratified by finding him inquiring "the way to Zion," or asking, "What must I do to be saved?" As he afterwards stated, he lived in an ungodly state, was given to pleasure, fond of lively society, loved the world; never gave any serious attention to religion, nor allowed death or eternity ever to disturb him.

An event, however, happened in God's providence which gave a new direction to his thoughts. Word was brought to the class last September, that he had been taken suddenly ill; and his teacher, in repairing to his home, at the close of the school services, found it too true. He had had a fit of coughing, attended with vomiting of blood. The hectic flush on his sunken cheek, and his distressing cough, showed too plainly that rapid consumption had set in. In the evening, his teacher was again summoned, and found, on arriving with a friend, that he was in an alarming state. Seated on a chair, supported by his brother; his eyes shut, and

very pale; the only signs of life which he gave was an occasional cough, and spitting of thick blood. He had just before parted with a arge quantity of blood and other matter from his lungs. He remained in this state for several hours, before he could be conveyed to bed.

Providentially, though his life now hung on a single thread, he was permitted gradually to improve. In a conversation soon after, he showed he was sensible of God's forbearance in not quite cutting him down. He remarked, that he felt at the time unable to fix his thoughts on any one thing; and when affectionately asked, if it should please God to take him away, whether he felt prepared, he burst into tears, and said that he had lived in a very ungodly state, and hoped that God would spare him, and he would live a better life. He was exhorted to look from himself to Christ, the sinner's friend, who had died for him, and procured his salvation. Many times was he thus addressed: he was prayed with, and appropriate portions of the Scriptures were read to him; he had also placed in his hands suitable books from the Sunday-school library, and when led into conversation on the important subjects of which they treated it was evident that he had taken an interest in them. A visit was also paid him by his pastor, and other friends from the Sunday-school had interviews with him; he appeared much interested in their remarks, and especially when they offered up prayer.

As yet, however, he remained on the border-land of the kingdom of heaven. He was, indeed, more attentive to divine things, and appeared willing to take in the truths of religion; light certainly broke in upon his mind, but it was only the dawning before the day; a little longer time had to elapse before he saw the "King in his beauty, and the land which is very far off."

In a few weeks he so far recovered as to be able to take, when the weather was mild, a short walk. He then, though too weak, ventured to apply for his former situation, and was grieved because his services were declined till Christmas. On the first Sunday that he felt he had sufficient strength, and having obtained the doctor's consent, he re-visited his class; the scholars were glad to see him, though sorry to see he was much thinner and weaker than before; and when mention was made of God's kindness in thus far favouring him, he shed tears. His recovery, as his friends anticipated, was only partial in a few more weeks he was again prostrated; the coughing, attended with vomiting, became as violent as before; and he sorrowfully returned to his sick bed, which he was never again to leave.

At this time his teacher, whose visits he now very much desired, found him greatly distressed. He had become convinced that his sickness would ere long terminate with his death, and he did not feel ready for the change; he was loth to leave this world, and dreaded the visit of the last enemy, for as yet he had not put his firm foot on the

Rock of Ages. Now he said many bitter things against himself; his sins rose up before him, and he felt how ungodly he had been. He was pointed to Christ, as the sinner's only hope; he was directed to fix his mind on him alone; he was shown, however many or great his sins might be, Christ, by what he had done, in coming from heaven to earth, keeping the law which he had broken, and then suffering and dying in the sinner's stead, had made a full atonement for him, and that he was simply to look to him for salvation. The completeness and sufficiency of his atonement was often dwelt upon, and he was shown how willing Christ was, with open arms, to receive him; and that God would accept him and pardon him for his sake. At length he saw, believed, and found peace.

It would occupy too much space to describe at length the process by which he was brought to rest his firm hopes on Christ, and through him to enjoy an assurance of eternal life. At first he was retarded by misconceptions of the nature and extent of sin, and of the plan of salvation; he fancied that repentance was in itself a virtue, that God in his nature was so merciful, that he would not punish him, and that, by cherishing good thoughts, and keeping, as he was able, the commandments of God, he should stand accepted of him. Christ, for a while, remained in the background: it was some time before he saw the need, the design, and extent of his propitiation; that as all were sinners, and under the curse, forgiveness and restitution

to the Divine favour must rest on his merits alone.

By conversation, the help of the Scriptures, and other good books, he was, through the blessing of God, delivered from his state of darkness and gloom, and made to walk in the true light of the gospel. One book, "Memorials of Hedley Vicars," was of special service to him: referring to it to a brother scholar, he said, "I have been led to see myself a sinner mainly through that book. I compared my own state with that of Hedley Vicars before he was converted; and his conversion led me to think seriously of my own soul." He read it through with deep avidity, and again re-read it, and frequently referred to the more striking portions of it. James's "Anxious Inquirer" also proved of great benefit to him; he read it carefully and regularly, and mentioned to an acquaintance what a valuable help it had been to him in understanding the way of salvation. Now it was that his Bible became much prized by him; he had sent for it from the chapel, and would always, when not using it, have it under his pillow. He called to mind what he had been accustomed to read in the Sunday-school, and also several of the hymns which he had sung in the same place.

His Bible, as he said on one occasion, had become his best friend. He would again read, and ask others to read for him, many portions of "Hedley Vicars ;" and took much delight in reading, or hearing read, "The Dairyman's Daughter," "Life of Rolls Plumbe," the first

parts of Hill's "Village Dialogues," the short Biographies in the CHRISTIAN'S PENNY MAGAZINE, and the "Life of Mrs. Sherman."

While his bodily weakness increased, and it was evident to himself and others that he had not long to live, his faith became stronger, and his hopes brighter. Christ, he said, never left him; he had taken the sting of death away, and had prepared for him a place in heaven. He was even anxious to depart; and on one occasion, when he manifested a little impatience, his teacher remarked that God was perhaps trying his patience, and sparing him a little longer, so as to give him opportunity of doing something for Christ; and alluded to those of his friends who came to see him, whom perhaps he might be the means of awakening to concern about their souls. He replied with much feeling, "Oh, how happy I should be if I could lead any of the scholars to think of their state, and come to Jesus to be saved." also said, "I have spoken to some already (whose names he mentioned), and have hopes of them; and there are others to whom I intend to do so, if I have the opportunity."

He

He addressed his relatives in similar terms, though oftener, and with more freedom besought them to read their Bible, and begin to seek God, reminding them of his own approaching end, and expressing a hope that they would each meet him, and their parent, and young sister, who had gone before, in the better world. His end was

now rapidly ap

proaching; he had become so weak as to be scarcely able to move; his hearing and sight also became very imperfect, while his distressing cough increased. At times he was utterly prostrated, and occasionally his brain became so weak that he rambled in his talk. He had calmly given directions to his teacher as to his funeral, and had selected the nearest churchyard for his grave, saying that then his friends in the Sunday-school could be present. A little before he had sent word to his class that he should not be here long, but hoped they would all meet together in heaven. When one of the friends who had kindly taken her turn to sit up with him through the night said on one occasion how sorry she was to see him so ill, he replied, "You need not; it has been good for me that I have been afflicted;" and said that he had been brought to Christ, and now enjoyed a hope of heaven. At another time, when she asked him how he was, he said, "Very happy." She replied, "Well, you know it is said:

'Religion never was design'd

To make our pleasures less.' He instantly rejoined, "True:"Tis religion that can give

Sweetest pleasures while we live;"" and went through the remaining lines of that hymn. He then mentioned the joy he felt at soon meeting with his mother in heaven, who had been taken from him when a boy.

On Sabbath morning, February 14th, 1858, he was much weaker than usual, and his relatives thought he was about to die. A friend coming