in

very arduous and trying office. If he is made successful in winning some souls, he will be tried severely by others who refuse and rebel. His God whom he serves will not, however, leave him to sink under the conflict. When the cup of today is unusually bitter through manifold sorrows, that of to-morrow is generally rendered sweet. So, when the events of one day happen to be of that glowing and exhilarating nature as to endanger his steps, and to whisper something of self-applause or self-complacency, the circumstances of the next will mercy be such as are calculated to lay him in the dust, from a sense of his own utter insufficiency to do any thing pleasing, acceptable, or useful, but as God works in him and by him both to will and to do by his own Spirit. Thus occupied with joys and sorrows, with hopes and fears, he goes forth among his people. Whatever may have been his former raptures as he gazed over a piece of natural scenery, or his delight as he read through the pages of classic authors; he now finds that this one object of watching over souls has in a great measure absorbed all others. He is, as was before hinted, gazed at both by unlettered men and by literary triflers as a strange being: the one has no conception of his mental qualities, and the other conceives that he is altogether destitute of any. The boisterous sportsman, and the delicate, affected modern divine, will hold such a man in frightful abhorrence, and probably condemn him as mischievously intent on destroying the Establishment; or, if they are possessed of a little charity, they will consider him as melancholy or altogether mad. But he leaves these persons to their own pursuits, while his object is to go

ap

and preach the Gospel, rejoicing and sorrowing by turns, as he pears to gain or lose ground in contending with the enemy of God and man in behalf of his own soul and of the souls of those committed to his charge. In his experience, the paradoxes of St. Paul are accomplished; he goes on through honour and dishonour, through evil report and good report; oft-times considered as a deceiver, though his heart is simple and true; scorned and condemned as obscure and unknown, while in reality he is well known to many of the excellent of the earth. He is chastened, but not killed; sorrowful, yet often rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; destitute indeed of worldly wealth, yet possessing all things through the grace of Christ Jesus, who hath loved him and given himself for him. While others are planning and striving to obtain the honours which come from manwhile some are enjoying luxurious ease, or groaning under the burden of pampered indolence and privileged uselessness, and others are sighing after unhallowed fruits, he, far happier than they all, goes on with his humble labours, pursues his unnoticed round from cottage to cottage, and is better pleased with the news of a soul being converted to God by means of his honest labours, than he would be to hear of the intended visit and patronage of any man on earth. He envies none their honours or their titles, for he does not want or wish them. His language is,

"If so poor a worm as I

May to thy great glory live,
All mine actions sanctify,

All my thoughts and words receive.
Claim me for thy service, claim
All I have and all I am."

ALIQUIS.

MY POOR DEAR FRIEND, YOURS, indeed, came near to me. It is the Lord, I said, and his ways must be mysterious to me, because I cannot fathom his infinite wisdom. They are good,, though I see not how. The great difficulty is, to believe them his. My dear friend, cry hard for that faith that you may steadfastly believe it is the Lord's doing. Unbelief does not allow that, and it is not so easy as we think to believe a Providence. The most rather suppose than believe it; so they get no good by God's dispensations. Are you sure, unquestionably sure, that notwithstanding all second causes, dear K.'s disorder is from God; and that every pang and every respite of it, is by his immediate direction? Gain this point, I mean obtain it by grace, and you will be self-taught about the rest. You will see it a loving correction, and say, Here God shows his kindness to me, and his displeasure at my sins. So you will humble your soul, you will see it is a special warning, and say, Is my interest in Christ clear? How stands my faith? and, is it proved by love? You will see it is a gracious preservative, and say, My God saw my comforts to be dangerous, and so dashed this bitter potion into my cup! You will see it is a needful purgation, and say, I wanted so severe a discipline to refine my graces and mortify my earthly affections. Affictions cannot be received as they ought, unless we see God's hand in them; for without that they can neither humble nor purify. At such seasons, accusations of conscience are wont to add to the load. You must be sure to hear them, yet never to lose sight of Christ's righteousness, for Satan

If

will be busy with your unbelief; and if yielded to, turn godly sorrow into undutiful despondency. It is alike faulty not to hear the rod and to murmur against it. The most trying circumstance in troubles is the uncertainty of the issue, and the delay of its coming. This puts faith and submission to the stretch in a peculiar manner, and is singularly mortifying to self-will. To be able to say, not only, As thou wilt, but, in what manner, and at what time thou wilt, is what I earnestly beg the Lord to bestow upon you on this pressing occasion. It will mightily stay your heart, I am persuaded, that now you have a special occasion given you to honour your Master, and to show forth the power of his religion to his glory, by an exemplary exercise of the silent graces of meekness, quietness, and submission. dear Mrs. R-s be alive (as I will still hope in God she shall be restored to you), I need not tell you what to say to her; only this I will say, endeavour to help the exercise of her faith in God through Jesus, by dropping a seasonable Scripture. If she have any doubts because of a low frame or inability to pray or fix her thoughts, make her sensible that faith lies deeper than these, and that in such case it is the very office of faith to support her under and against them. Remember, she wants help; and, as is convenient, speak a promise to her. O my dear friend, the Lord will make all work for your good! He is the kindest Father and the nearest Friend! I recommend you to him most importunately, being most affectionately yours, S. W.

Feb. 5, 1759.

SHORT ACCOUNT OF

DIED, on Saturday, Dec. 29, 1821, at the Rev. S. King's, Latimers, Bucks, Elizabeth Molder, aged 75. This excellent woman had resided near thirty years in the family of the Rev. Thomas Scott, Rector of Aston Sandford, and lived only about eight months to deplore the loss of her beloved friend and pastor.

His first acquaintance with her arose from her coming to consult him, when Chaplain at the Lock, about the propriety of her attending at the Lord's table: and this she did with such timidity and diffidence, that, after having knocked at the door, just as the servant came to open it, her heart failed her, and with faltering step she was turning round to go away without executing her intention.

What important events often depend on apparently trivial causes! Little did she then think how much the happiness of her future life, both in spiritual and temporal concerns, depended on her visit that morning! The fervent piety she evinced in the course of conversation, her simple tale and artless manner, greatly interested Mr. Scott and some others of the family in her behalf. Having been for a considerable time under deep concern about religion *, she was encouraged to attend at the Lord's table, and to come again to the house whenever the duties of her station would admit of it. After having lived as servant for some time in the neighbourhood with great credit and consistency of character, she removed to a situation at the other end of the town; and there, whenever it was in her power, she attended Mr. Scott's ministry at the church of St. Mildred and St. Moses, Bread Street,

Her first religious impressions, she said, were received under a sermon preached by the Rev. Mr. Medley.

MARCH 1822.

ELIZABETH MOLDER. where for many years he had an afternoon lecture. At length, however, she was so afflicted with bodily infirmities, arising from some obscure internal disease, which made her grow very large and unwieldy, that she was no longer capable of the exertions her situation required. One afternoon at Bread Street, when the service was ended, she came into the vestry, and told Mr. Scott, with many tears, that she was come to take her last leave of him; for that her state of health was such she could no longer work for her living, being often in her employments obliged to lie down on the floor to relieve her pain, and that no resource remained for her but that of going to a workhouse. He who was used, like his heavenly Master, to weep with them that weep," tenderly commiserated her forlorn and hopeless state, and determined if possible to afford her relief, and obtain for her better medical advice. He procured admission for her into St. George's Hospital. She continued there a month, her greatest trial during that time being the society of minds uncongenial with her own, and the little opportunity she could find to 66 commune with her own heart upon her bed, and be still." At the end of this period, she was dismissed incurable. But even then, He who has said to every one of his believing people, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee," fulfilled his gracious promise in her behalf. Mr. Scott could not endure the idea of this pious woman's spending the few days which he supposed remained to her, in a workhouse, devoid of all the comforts of domestic life, and probably excluded from all religious advantages; and therefore determined to take a room for her in the street where he lived, and to afford her support from his own table. It is true he had little in

his power; but he was acquainted with several opulent and benevolent Christians, who, he doubted not, would help him in this work of charity. Nor was he disappointed in the expectation. Little, however, did she herself or any one else then suppose, that the Lord would so lengthen out her span, that she should survive the friend who thus provided for her. Notwithstanding her bodily infirmities, she was able to attend constantly to family worship, and walk as far as the chapel, privileges which she highly valued; and powerful indeed must be the obstacles which could keep her from attending the public worship of God. When Mr. Scott left London, a sense of duty as well as inclination made him resolve, that she should still continue in his family; for several persons had kindly contributed to her maintenance; and one lady in particular, with whom she had formerly lived servant, had some years before left him a small legacy, to remunerate him in some measure for what he had expended on her account. This was an additional inducement to him to trust the Lord for her future provision. And here it is worthy of remark, that in her case the promise annexed to the fifth Commandment was most strikingly fulfilled. Her parents, who lived in a little village in Gloucestershire, were extremely poor, and suffered much from disease: but though she left them at the early age of twelve years to go to service, she never ceased to share their sorrows; and as long as she was capable of exertion devoted every penny she could spare to supply their wants; confident that the almighty Friend whom she served and trusted would also provide help for her in time of need. Mr. Scott was so much impressed with this circumstance, that he some years ago published a short paper on the subject in the Christian Observer, which, with a few

more particulars added to this article, will probably soon be printed in the form of a small tract.

When settled at Aston, she used her utmost endeavours, as indeed she always had done, to awaken the attention of her neighbours to the concerns of their immortal souls. As long as she was able, she would walk to the few cottages in this little village, and, with a truly missionary spirit, expatiate on the Saviour's dying love to poor sinners, while tears of joy and gratitude glistened in her eyes. And scarcely ever did any stranger sit down in Mr. Scott's kitchen without receiving admonition from her lips. Her heart burned with zeal for the salvation of mankind and the glory of God; and, though she knew little of distant lands and foreign climes, whenever she heard of the success of missions, and the blessed effects of the Bible Society, to which she always joyfully subscribed her weekly mite, her hands and eyes were lifted up to heaven in praise and thanksgiving. She was beloved and revered by all the neighbourhood. Even the little children would listen to her with an attention that no one else could command; and some of the most obdurate and ungodly were awed by her reproof, and, for a while at least, seemed softened into contrition. But while others admired her piety, a deep sense of her own unworthiness kept her always low at the foot of the cross, and enhanced in her esteem every little act of kindness that was shown her; so that she always kept in her proper place, "showing honour to whom honour is due,' in a manner that evinced a peculiarly nice sense of propriety.

She was very fond of reading, and spent a great deal of time in it; but she had never learnt to write, which she greatly regretted. She, however, fully availed herself of the ability of others; and often employed an amanuensis to write let

ters to her relations, to call their attention to the grand subject which lay so near her heart, and by these means has been the instrument of great good. The sweet work of prayer and praise also occupied many of her hours; and there were seasons when, unable to sleep for the delightful reflections that engaged her mind, she has spent much of the time allotted to repose in singing the praises of God upon her bed, anticipating that state where they "rest not day nor night," but cry, "Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty." Yet was not this eminent Christian, whose cheerful countenance when labouring for breath, and bound down under a load of bodily disease, was generally illumined with smiles-always free from doubt and distrust respecting the safety of her spiritual state. She doubted not, it is true, of the Redeemer's power to save, nor of his willingness to receive every poor heavy-laden sinner that cries to him for mercy; but when her heart felt, as it did sometimes, cold and insensible, or her tender conscience was wounded by any thing inconsistent with the Christian temper or character, she would doubt whether she were really a new creature in Christ Jesus, and had ever been made partaker of that holiness without which no man can see the Lord." These, however, were but transient clouds, which were soon succeeded by that " peace of God which passeth all understanding." About a year before her death, she became too infirm to walk to church, though but a very short distance; and she used to be carried in a chair fixed on poles by some of the poor men in the village, several of whom seemed ready to contend for the honour of being her supporters. During the last illness of her best earthly friend, it was feared she would nearly sink under the afflicting stroke; but, on the contrary, she was more serene and composed

under it than almost any one of the family. Her trust was firmly stayed on her ALMIGHTY Friend; while the joy and blessedness which she anticipated for him who was about to enter on his heavenly inheritance, seemed to outweigh every other consideration.

When circumstances rendered it impossible for her to continue at Aston, the Rev. S. King, Mr. Scott's son-in-law, kindly offered her an asylum in his family. Highly as this offer was acceptable and advantageous, the separation from those whom she had so long loved and resided with, was exceedingly painful on both sides. The Sunday before she left Aston, she had so many of the congregation pressing round her to bid their last farewell, and to testify their sorrow at her departure, that it was feared her health might suffer; but she bore it with unusual firmness. The next day, however, when about to take a final leave of her long-loved abode, her spirits failed; and the grateful and, pious address she made to the bereaved partner of her deceased friend, for whom she always had a peculiar affection, and who then little thought that they should meet no more in this world, deeply affected every one present.

It was a great satisfaction to learn soon after, that, weak and infirm as she then was, she endured the exertion of travelling near thirty miles in a post-chaise without material injury, and felt as happy as possible in her new situa tion, where she received every kindness and attention. She resided in it near five months, and for some time was enabled to attend the church, which was very near the house, being drawn thither in a little chair. In the month of November, she had an alarming attack of inflammation on the lungs. She expected to die; and at the former part of her illness, her mind was rather gloomy and