"My dear father for many years had been accustomed to write pastoral letters to his parishioners, which were read in the school-room to those who chose to attend. The following address to them was written soon after my brother's death. "MY DEAR FRIENDS, NEIGHBOURS, AND PARISHIONERS. "In the midst of my sorrows at the removal of my dearly-loved child, I wish you to know that the Lord supports me wonderfully. I cannot yet come out amongst you, but I cannot be quite silent. I have therefore desired my friend and fellowlabourer to read this letter to you. I have preached the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ to you more than nineteen years, and through his mercy I have seen some precious fruits of these labours amongst you, but never have I witnessed a more beautiful or triumphant evidence, that I have not taught, preached, or lived in vain, than in the case of my dear son, now a sharer of the Redeemer's glory in heaven. Oh, what a call for praise, that he was not only my natural, but also my spiritual child. Such was his love to Christ, and Christ's love to him, that I am lost in wonder, love, and praise. I am persuaded there are many of you, who feel deeply for me. You can weep for me when I weep, and rejoice with me when I rejoice. You have prayed for my child. It was the delight of his heart to hear of your love and sympathy, and he dwelt on the interest you took in his welfare, to the very day of his death. He was indeed a boy of no common mind, and the Lord sanctified his great natural endowments to his own glory. I feel more and more every hour what a treasure I have lost; but at the same time I see more and more what a blessedness he has attained. I have been watching him at home and abroad, with a parent's eye and a Christian's heart, both for his body and soul, ever since disease fastened on his frame last summer, and no one will ever know what my anxieties have been during that period. But I trust God meant all for my good. The trial, severely as I have felt it, has shown me more of myself, and more of my God. My prayers for my dear child have been abundantly answered. Blessed be God! he was enabled to disclose his whole heart to me, and to others, before he was taken away. He conversed with many in a most useful and edifying manner, exhorting them to prayer, faith, and holiness. He could tell them all, that he knew in whom he trusted, and could look at death with perfect peace. Believe me, then, when I tell you, that though I am greatly affected, and humbled in the dust with a sense of sin and sorrow, yet that my mercies are so abounding in abounding chastisement, that I can, and do rejoice in tribulation. Oh! may it work patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, and may hope make me more faithful and diligent, and I be not ashamed of the gospel in principle or practice, for your sakes, as well as my own. It is a great comfort to me now, as I am kept from ministering to you for a season, that you have one amongst you who preaches the same truth, and in the same spirit. May our common Lord and Saviour bless him, and you, and me together. I beg your prayers, at this season in particular, for me and mine. They are no longer needful for my beloved son. Let them be transferred to the surviving members of my family. Pray especially for those who watch for your souls -that we may experience help and comfort in ourselves, and dispense the word of life with more zeal and love. Pray that there may be no divisions or wanderings of heart amongst us-that we may be all of one mind and judgment in the things which make for our everlasting peace. Pray that the young children may be brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. My dear boy sent them a message on his dying bed, which was read to them a short time before his believing happy soul entered into rest. May the whole school remember it for his sake, and their soul's sake. God bless you all, my dear friends, I cannot doubt, but that you will bear me on your hearts to a throne of grace. Your affectionate Minister, L. R." "When my father resumed his labours amongst the people, he seemed to be aware of his declining health though he said nothing to the family. His usual and only reply, when we expressed our fears, was, "I must work while it is called to-day. The night cometh when no man can work." He appeared moulded into the spirit of the Apostles, affectionately desirous to spend and be spent in the service of his flock, and to impart to them not only the gospel of Christ, but, if it were possible, his own soul also; and the people caught the holy contagion of his fervent zeal and love. There was between them an almost unexampled reciprocity of regard and desire to glorify God, and walk humbly, justly, and unblameably before him."* "You will receive with indulgence the overflowings of my heart towards a father whose memory is still cherished by his family and by his parishioners, with the deepest gratitude, and I hope we may add, with an unfeigned anxiety to walk in the steps of his bright example, and meet him again in everlasting glory. Believe me, my very dear Sir, Your affectionate and faithful CHAPTER IX. Sure 'tis a solemn thing to die, my soul.-BLAIR. This only can reconcile us to the grave, that our greatest hopes lie beyond it.-HOWE. WE proceed, with the same view of illustration, to notice some particulars relating to the third daughter of Mr. Richmond, who survived her father only a year and a half. She also was the child of faith and prayer, and equally the object of his tender solicitude with the rest of his family. I am not warranted to present her character as an instance of high attainment in piety, but the exercises of her mind during her last illness, sufficiently disclose the salutary effect of a religious education, and while we indulge the pleasing hope that she has joined her beloved father in the mansions of the blessed, her case will afford additional encouragement to the christian parent, to sow in his children's hearts the seeds of eternal life, which, watered by the early and latter rain, seldom fail to spring up and ripen to reward his labours, as occasions arise in the varying circumstances and events of life. 66 66 This amiable young woman possessed an exuberance of animal spirits and a turn for the ludicrous, which was very difficult to be restrained within the bounds of discretion, and gave her dear father much anxiety."* *. Extracted from Mrs. R's letter to the Author. A volatile temper is in all cases a grievous hindrance to intellectual and spiritual improvement. Good conversation cannot consist with the indulgence of "foolish talking and jesting," and the mind is diverted by it from solid and useful pursuits. We may attempt to excuse this cast of character, and speak of it as a playfulness of temper; but after all, it cannot be approved. The disposition to amuse ourselves with the defects or peculiarities of others, may generally be traced to vanity in ourselves, and is a habit of mind wholly inconsistent with the spirit of humility and love, as well as a sad forgetfulness of that solemn caution, "Every idle word that a man shall speak, he shall give an account thereof at the day of judgment.”* There was not, however, any thing cynical or severe in the strain of this young person's conversation. She was naturally frank, open, and kindhearted, and to oblige another was a real satisfaction to herself. It was rather a thoughtless propensity, common to many young people, "to giggle and make giggle," that I am lamenting. It is difficult to speak of the dead so as not to wound the tender feelings of the living, but when it is required to pourtray character, the simple declaration of the truth is best, and is indeed the only course consistent with Christian integrity. She who forms the subject of my present remarks, affixed a solemn seal to their truth in the affecting review which she took of the past, in her dying hours. It is a source of much congratulation that she is now beyond the opinion of man, whose imperfect knowledge renders him at all times incompetent to pronounce on his fellow creatures, and should remind him of the danger of assuming a * Matt. xii. 36. |