When lo! the winged messenger, "The silver cord was loosed," and thou In quenchless trust I laid thee low, Though tremblingly, confidingly, Again, "the bowl was broken;" yet And hush'd once more were sweet low tones I knew thou might'st not tarry long The bud was given, but the flower Oft as I watch'd the fitful light Of those too lustrous eyes, They seem'd to mourn their kindred stars: Now, gently, side by side, ye rest, In dreamless slumber bound, Yet thou wert left me, loveliest, last- O'er the wide, wailing seas of life, My little bark of hope went forth, Alas! too fondly there I pour'd My soul's idolatry, The gushings of that love, my God, That should have been for Thee! "Thou chastenest whom Thou lovest," Lord, And 'mid Thy tempests loud, 'Mid deepening gloom, 'mid lightning's flash, The summons came-a still, small voice, "Yet not alone," in that mine hour Of direst agony, Sweet voices whisper'd round me peace, I stood beside the marble form As silently it lay, I marked the last faint shadowing trace Thine arm was round me as I caught I saw heaven's golden doors unclose; I saw the sunless city, and I heard the wild, sweet gushings of Entranced, I gazed, and lo! a Lamb High Alleluias rose before The rainbow-circled throne, And low the golden crowns were cast With palmed hands, their white robes wash'd Their radiant foreheads sealed with The signet of their God. 'Mid cherubim and seraphim, No more I saw-ecstatic tears O Grave, thou hast no victory, I hail, O Death, thy flood; My spirit panteth for its rest, "Come quickly," O my God! A. GOD'S PROVIDENCE OBSERVED IN THE PROVISION OF COAL. Of all the various mercies supplied to us by the God of nature, none seems to strike my mind more, as a plain and certain proof of a superintending and gracious Providence, than the gift of that fuel which cheers and sweetens so remarkably this inclement and suffering period of the year. How astonishing, how plenteous a provision is made to supply us with the means of enduring the winter's cold, when the forests could no longer afford us a sufficiency, and we should have been perishing without it! So long as wood was abundant, the arts of life had not advanced, and nothing else was discovered; but when the forests had been partly consumed, and the want of fuel was becoming alarming, a remedy is provided for us at the most seasonable moment; and the nature of the supply itself strikes us with another and greater astonishment. The new fuel is dug out of the bowels of the earth it consists of a hard, solid, and heavy kind of stone, seemingly very unlikely to give heat or light, but really producing both much better than any other known. substance. Then it lies in very large and deep beds; so vast in extent as to seem inexhaustible, although they should still be worked for hundreds of years; and so thick that a very small space of ground is enough to supply a whole town with its winter's provision. Besides this, the beds of coal come in many places very near the surface of the ground, and are worked at very little expense; others are deeper, but then they are generally richer, as if to reward the greater labour of searching for it. The method by which the beds have been brought near the top, and made to appear in different places (as if on purpose for our use), is too difficult to describe now; but it plainly shows the interference of a Divine Giver. Besides this, it is found not in one place only but in many,—in a great many of our English counties, not only near the sea, but inland too; so that it becomes moderately cheap to all our countrymen. And it seems remarkable, that the richest and finest coal-mines are near the sea-coast; for instance, Durham and Northumberland, from whence all the coal for London and most of the coast of England is readily conveyed by ships, and at much smaller expense than it could have been by land. It is as yet a mystery how coal was formed, and what was its original material; but there is reason to think that it was wood, and that it became what it is by being buried in the earth for an incalculable period of time, and sub ject to particular changes. These changes have made it a much better and more durable fuel than it was in its former state: a load of wood would be of very little value compared with a load of coal. All this could not be by accident; but most certainly testifies the overruling power and wisdom of a merciful Creator. E. THE ALMSHOUSES. NONE but those who have felt it, can tell all the miseries of being in debt: it is a clog upon the mind, it weighs upon the spirits. The man who is in debt is no longer a free man. All that he possesses is no longer his own: it haunts his midnight pillow, and destroys the happiness of his social hours; it undermines his health and ruins his temper; and but too often, once plunged into the mire, he never recovers himself, but goes deeper and deeper, till he is compelled to part with all that he has, and, with his helpless wife and children, to take refuge in the workhouse. There are times when it is almost impossible for the poor to avoid contracting small debts; but it should be done with great caution: a little self-denial and inconvenience now will be fully compensated for afterwards. To those who have been unfortunate enough to exceed their means, the following little tale may afford encouragement in their endeavours to extricate themselves from their difficulties:: When Thomas Ford married Sarah Brooker, they appeared to have as fair a prospect of happiness before them as ever dawned upon persons of their station. He had been a footman, she a housemaid. They had both saved a little money wherewith to begin housekeeping; and his kind master added many little comforts to their simple dwelling. They were not young; but time, if it had slightly worn Thomas's frame and sprinkled his hair with grey, had sobered his judgment and given him the advantage of experience in the ways of the world. But human foresight and wisdom are of little avail against the changes of time and the reverses of fortune; or, to speak more correctly, all that man can do is useless against the decrees of an Allwise Providence. Time, in its fleeting course, brought many sad changes to poor Thomas Ford and his wife. The little village in which they lived became a place of note and fashion; large and gay shops were erected, and Thomas's custom daily declined. By degrees the comforts of his house grew fewer and fewer; one article after another was reluctantly parted with, and Thomas's face wore a look of care, and his poor wife grew pale and thin. The glow of their parlour-fire no longer illumined the opposite wall in the twilight, while Sarah, in her white cap and silk gown, entertained her friends at tea, and Thomas, with smiling face and pleasant jest, sat in the chimney-corner. Now, as soon as the business of the day was over, they were glad to leave their comfortless room, stripped of half its furniture, and save fire and candle by retiring to bed. At length, as they sat one day at their scanty and silent meal, Thomas, with a deep sigh, broke forth: "Sarah, it cannot be helped, the clock must go to-morrow." "The clock, Thomas, my young lady's wedding present to me: I never thought to part with that." And poor Sarah could not refrain from tears. But, as Thomas said, it could not be helped; and on the morrow, with a heavy heart, Sarah saw her favourite clock taken away from her; and the money it fetched paid their most pressing creditor. But this only availed for a time, and affairs grew more desperate. Willingly would they have gone again into service; but they were now old, and both of them were very deaf and infirm. Yet in the midst of their troubles they forgot not that God" doth not willingly afflict nor grieve the children of men," that "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth;" and it was well for them that they had listened to the word of exhortation in their youth, and not, as is too often the case, put off the work of religion till old age, when they were, by the dispensation of Providence, deprived of the power of hearing. "Well, Sarah," Thomas would say, "things are very bad with us now; but I will not be cast down. The Lord knows best what is good for us; and, doubtless, I wanted |