visiting the place regularly for a few weeks, I was able to establish a school for the religious instruction of the children of the village; my time was now delightfully occupied. The public service commenced at twelve o'clock, the usual hour for the country in Scotland, where the minister frequently comes from a distance. At half-past one I had to dine at one or other of the many houses that were open to me; and at half-past two the school commenced, in which upwards of fifty scholars of both sexes seemed to vie with each other in the punctuality and cheerfulness of their attendance on the instructions they received, and in their affectionate attachment to their teacher. This happy intercourse continued to the close of the college-session, when I was under the necessity of leaving my temporary charge; but it was under the engagement of resuming my labours among them on my return to Scotland in the ensuing October. When the commencement of the next session again brought me to Edinburgh, these dear people received me with the most heartfelt expressions of grateful and affectionate joy. At the conclusion of the public service, on the first Sabbath after my return, a man came to me, and requested I would visit his sick wife, who had been a constant attendant at the hall during the preceding winter, but was now confined to her bed without any prospect of recovery. This man was the husband of Mrs. Ramsay. I need not say, that I readily accompanied him to the sick bed of his wife. On my conversing with her, she expressed herself to be so wholly delivered from the fear of death, so happy in the enjoyment of the Divine favour, so joyful in the prospect of eternal felicity, that I confess some suspicions arose in my mind as to the genuineness of her experience. But all doubts and misgivings soon vanished, when I saw the foundation on which her hopes rested, the source from which her happiness was derived, and witnessed the effects which the hope of glory produced, in purifying her sainted spirit. Mrs. Ramsay was then in her thirty-eighth year. About ten years before this period, she had been brought into a state of anxious concern for the welfare of her soul, through the death of one of her children. Her husband was employed as coachman in some neighbouring gentleman's service, and thus the entire weight of household concerns devolved upon her, which, with the care of a young and numerous family, engrossed all her time and strength. Through the distance of the kirk, she could very seldom attend on the means of grace, and the general strain of preaching from the parochial pulpit, was not likely to suit her case. Her distress of mind continued to be very great, and aided by her exertions in the care of her family, which were far beyond her strength, in destroying her health. Though, at this time, she derived nothing but misery from her thoughts of religion, yet she was extremely anxious that no stigma should be cast upon it, as the cause of her sufferings. Hence she did all in her power to conceal the anguish she endured, and the source from which it sprung. At length, through the preaching at the ball, the means of grace were brought almost to her door. She attended with eagerness from the very first, though the delicacy of her health caused her to suffer much from the severity of the weather. A sermon, preached from Rev. i. 7. gave a new turn to her feelings of alarm. She had before this been possessed of some vague and indistinct notions respecting the necessi ty of being brought into the favour of God, and living in his fear, whilst she was tormented by the convic tion of having lived entirely neglectful of his claims; and that, even since awakened to a sense of her obligations to love and serve him, she was continually sinning against him. But, under this sermon, she was brought to perceive the situation in which she was placed by the preaching of the gospel: she now saw that the condemnation consisted in a rejection of the salvation of the cross. Her anxiety now was to ascertain whether she was the subject of that faith which worketh by love, purifies the heart and life. She wished to ascertain, whether she felt real love to the Redeemer. Her anxiety on this subject was so intense, that it deprived her of sleep, and she could seldom obtain rest till exhausted nature sunk into repose, when the morning was far advanced. A sermon, preached from John xiv. 21, was blessed to the removal of her uncertainty, and to the great relief of her mind; but she still felt burthened under a load of conscious guilt, which rendered her life miserable. The last sermon preached in the hall that winter, from 1 John i. 7, was the happy means of bringing her to joy and peace in believing. In one part of the sermon, an attempt was made to describe the unbearable sufferings of a wounded spirit. She then felt (as she expressed herself,) as if her own feelings had been laid bare, and when the blood of atonement was brought forward, as speaking peace to the troubled conscience, and cleansing the soul from the pollution of sin, she felt that she had found the balm and the fountain which she needed, whilst Jesus Christ was received as her all-sufficient and only Saviour. The relief which she enjoyed was inexpressibly sweet. After months of severe and painful illness, she told me, with indescribable expression of countenance and voice, that she would rather, far rather, go through all her bodily sufferings again, than endure the agony of a wounded spirit.-During the summer, when deprived of the public means of grace, she devoted herself to reading her Bible, and other religious books which she was able to obtain. In the month of July she was seized with her last illness, which consisted in a complication of disorders, that terminated in a decline. The progress of the disease, though extremely painful and debilitating, was very slow. About the middle of October she was confined to her hed, from which she never more arose. Her resignation to the Divine will was now severely tried. During the summer she had been anxiously longing for the return of the public means of grace, and now that desired period was just at hand, she was confined to her bed. Her neighbours would again be able to attend that ministry which was endeared to her by its usefulness to her soul, whilst she would be entirely excluded. This she spoke of as her most painful trial: but this, as well as every other affliction, she was enabled to endure with unwavering patience and resignation. After I had once been to see her, my visits became a continual source of pleasure and support to my mind. On entering Gilmerton, I was accustomed to proceed directly to her cottage, and sit by her bed-side till it was time to commence the service at the hall. The conversation of this dying saint was an admirable preparative for the services of the sanctuary. O! when shall I realize those feelings in their full extent again, which occupied my breast whilst preaching at Gilmerton! The death-bed of my friend was, to me, the portal of eternity; and I preach ed as if standing on the brink of the grave. It would be a vain attempt, my friend, to endeavour to present you with a detailed account of her continued meetening for glory. Her humility led her to regard me as an instructor; but, I assure you, that her dying-bed was to me a school of Christian experience; and may I never forget the lessons which were there taught me. Her patience and faith increased in power and splendour as she approached the termination of her sufferings. Her resignation was unwearied; never was a murmur heard from her lips. Those who knew her only as the subject of a protracted and painful sickness, might think of her with pity; but none of those who visited her in her affliction, could long consider her as an object of compassion. She had her enjoyments, and her pleasures were both rational and scriptural, though highly exalted in their nature and degree. Whilst conversing on religious subjects, she seemed almost insensible to pain, and when left alone, her time never passed heavily away, for her mind was occupied with devout meditation. I have told you of her being resigned to the Divine will, in all the afflictions she was called upon to endure; but resignation appears almost too feeble a word to express what was the predominant state of her mind. Gratitude to God seemed to be the prevailing disposition. She spoke of judgment only as it afforded her an opportunity of speaking in more exalted terms of mercy. Often has she expatiated to me on her obligations to her heavenly Father, who removed some sources of trouble, of a family nature, before this, her last great affliction, began. She was an affectionate wife, and, a tender mother, and her soul was bent upon promoting the best interests of those whom she loved. Her neighbours, too, were the ol jects of her earnest solicitude. She' I received the account of her to hear of her transition to a world of bliss. It was on the following Tuesday to that on which we parted, at about eleven at night, that she exchanged a life of faith and patience for the full fruition of the world of glory. Miss W- was with her at the time of her decease. In a note to Miss M-, Miss W- says, Mrs. Ramsay is now no more. I feel a strange want this morning; her heavenly conversation was a great pleasure to me. She died praising her God. I would not have exchanged my feelings at that solemn moment, no, not for this vain world, and all its empty nothings. I could wish Mr. knew, but do as you think proper. Her love continued for him till the last moment.' On the Lord's-day following, she was interred. Our friends A and N- were at her funeral, which, N- said, was indeed an affecting one. In a letter which I have my self received from Miss W-(a most interesting young woman, the first in Gilmerton to whom I had good reason to hope that the blessing of God had made me useful;) she says, When Mrs. Ramsay died, then I could have wished to have told you all her hopes, and how much she was indebted to you. The last words she spoke were, If ever you see Mr. —, tell him, through our Lord, he saved me from endless misery-likewise, I die in the fullest hope of being with my dear Saviour for ever. May the Lord for ever bless him! Little more could she speak, in low accents praising her Redeemer she adored. When her pure spirit left its earthly dwelling, I stood lonely, I lost a dear friend I could have followed."" my mind, as to render it no easy undertaking to fulfil your wishes. If what has been written, however, should increase your faith in the grace of the Redeemer; if it should render the interest you have expressed in my departed friend abiding—if it should enable you to sympathize more closely in the tender affection with which I must ever pronounce the name of Gilmerton, you will richly repay Your truly affectionate friend, X. ON THE EXERCISE OF LOVE. THE scriptures emphatically declare, for our confidence and encouragement, that "GOD IS LOVE;" love in its very essence, love that "passeth understanding." It is higher than heaven what can we know? Here we are compelled to pause, wonder, admire, and adore. For, if the most profound philosophers are obliged to acknowledge that they can comprehend but little of causes separate from their effects;-if the most acute metaphysicians cannot understand or explain abstract qualities, principles, or ideas; either as to the mode of their existence or operation; and, if the most skilful anatomists are at a loss to account for many of the phenomena of the human frame, things with which we are all, more or less, familiar; with how much greater force will the remark apply to the contemplation of the nature, attributes, and perfections of Him who is "The King Eternal, Immortal, Invisible, the only wise God." "Such knowledge is too wonderful for us, it is high we cannot attain unto it." "Who would not fear thee thou King of Saints, for unto thee doth it appertain.” Thus have I brought the narra tive of Mrs. Ramsay to a close. The sketch of her soul's history, which is here given you, rapid and imperfect as it is, has excited such a crowd of It must then be with the characpleasing and painful recollections in ter of God as discovered in his works, as developed in his ways, and as revealed in his word, that we finite creatures have principally to do; here we can trace his love in some of its modifications, and there by ascertain something of its excellent nature and wonder-working power. Let us reflect on it first, as manifested in creation. We are told by the sacred historian, "And God saw every thing that he had made, and behold it was very good." Of this we have abundant proof. Contemplate the world itself as it came fresh from the hands of its Maker, how magnificent, yet how useful! and although sin has deformed and subjected it to a curse, still it retains vestiges of its former grandeur, and marks of its pristine beauty. "O Lord how manifold are thy works, in wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of the riches of thy glory, and so is the great and wide sea." "These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good! Almighty! thine this universal frame Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then!" Happy those who so study nature as to "lead them up to nature's God." The love of God is also displayed in the kingdom of providence. He it is who causeth his sun to shine upon the evil and good, and sendeth his rain upon the just and the unjust. The verdure of Spring, "When love warbles in the vocal groves, And vegetation plants the plain,"the beauties of Summer, "When the green bow'r with roses crowned, - In showers its fragrant foliage sheds,"the fruitfulness of Autumn, when her "Yellow lustre gilds the world, have each their respective attrac tions; and declare in unambiguous, yet sublime language, the faithfulness, power, and love of God. "He hath not left himself without wit ness in that he hath sent us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness." He hath this year also reserved unto us the appointed weeks of harvest," and our garners are again filled with plenty, affording all manner of store." The eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living thing. There is nothing so diminutive as to be beneath the notice of divine love, nothing so great or exalted, as to be independent of its influence. "O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men." But, it is in redemption that the love of God appears pre-eminent. Here mercy and truth meet together, righteousness and embrace peace each other. "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life." The love of “God, manifest in the flesh, was stronger than death, more powerful than the grave, which many waters could not quench, nor the floods drown." It was love that pitied "man in his low estate," it was love that prompted a way for his recovery, it was love that executed the "wondrous plan," and it is to love that we look for the full and final consummation of all that pertains to our eternal salvation. May we, by beholding the exhibition of the unparalleled And tempts the sickled swain into the love of our Divine Surety, be field," and the sterility of Winter, "The leafless wood, the naked field, The snow-topt cot, the frozen rill," changed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of God." Having feebly glanced at some of |