Christian Redemption.

THE following concise and beautiful description of the excellency of the plan of Christian redemption, forms the conclusion of the Memoirs of Lindley Murray. It is the testimony of one who had practically felt and experienced the powerful support, the holy consolation, and the final promise of eternal joy and glory, which the religion of Christ, and that alone, can disclose and impart.

"I cannot finish these memoirs of my life, without expressing, still more particularly, my sense of the greatest blessing which was ever conferred on mankind. I mean the redemption from sin, and attainment of a happy immortality, by the atonement and intercession of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I contemplate this wonderful proof of the love of God to man, as an act of mercy and benignity, which will stimulate the gratitude. and love, the obedience, praise, and adoration of the redeemed, through ages that will never end. This high dispensation is, in every respect adapted to our condition, as frail and sinful creatures. In surveying our offences and imperfections it prevents despondence; directs us where to look for relief; and freely offers us, if we are truly penitent, and believe in Christ, pardon and peace in reflecting on our religious attainments, it checks presumption and keeps us humble; and amidst all the trials and troubles of life, it cheers us with the prospect of a merciful deliverance, and of being soon received into those blissful regions, where we shall be secured, eternally secured, from sin and sorrow; where we shall be admitted into the Divine presence, and unceasingly celebrate in joyful anthems, the praises of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, one God blessed for ever. To them who obtain this glorious and happy state, all the afflictions of the longest and most painful life, will then appear to have been, indeed light and momentary as a drop of the ocean, as a grain of sand on the sea shore, compared with the greatness of their felicity, and the endless ages of its continuance."

21

Che Death of Chomas Clarkson.

THE good man's arms are folded now—

The great man's race is run

The warm brave heart, and thought worn brow,
Rest for their work is done!

'Tis well! the fine gold back we give,

Ere it was changed or dim;

The curtain none can lift and live,

Falls between us and him.

It was not grief, it was not fear,
Feeling, for tears too deep,

Subdued us, when that white haired seer,
Serenely fell asleep.

As the word passed from lip to lip,

Silence upon us fell;

The way worn man laid down his scrip,
Pilgrim his scallop shell.

Age moved more slowly on its way,
Less firm was manhood's tread,
And thousands bore themselves that day,
As present with the dead.

As the word passed from line to line,
Of Freedom's allied host,

The answer came, "For us still shine,
The footprints of the lost.

To us his spirit sayeth still,
"Be faithful to the end!"

THE DEATH OF THOMAS CLARKSON.

Not for ourselves, our sad hearts fill,"The slave hath lost a friend."

When he was friendless, on his chain
Fell the great Clarkson's eye;
And in that hour, he vowed to gain
His brother's cause, or die!

He went forth an enthusiast boy-
He fought an earnest man—
He conquered-and laid down in joy,
As only Christians can.

We thank Thee, Father! that on earth
Thy servant staid so long;
Thou gave his noble purpose birth,

And made his spirit strong.

Glory to Thee! his wayside seed,

In Faith and Patience sown,

Has blossomed for the bondman's need;
Glory to Thee alone!

And all o'er England's rich domain,

His spirit hath begot,

For her crushed poor, for Want, and Pain
Friends, and they know it not.

Beside the forge, and at the loom,

Amid the factory's din,

Where little children weave their doom,
His lineage looks in.

Around the labourer's cold hearth,

Where Want hath cast out Love,

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268

DEATH OF THOMAS CLARKSON.

Where misery hath conquered Mirth,

Unseen his offspring move.

With hearts his life hath warmed, they come
With steady souls and brave,

To lift a clear voice for the dumb,

To succour and to save.

We mourn him not! he did not go,
His great heart was not stilled,
Till all the streams that from it flow,

Had with his life been filled.

Philadelphia, 11th Mo. 1846.

Bumility.

THE loaded bee the lowest flies-
The richest pearl the deepest lies-
The stalk the most replenished,
Doth bow the most its modest head;
And thus humility we find,
The mark of every master mind.
The highest gifted, lowliest bends;
And merit meekest condescends;
And shuns the fame that fools adore,
The puff that makes a feather soar.

E. L. JR.

Principle of Life.

ARE we without passing into extravagance, entitled to assume that Forces, which enter so essentially into the constitution of our Earth, are not confined within its conditions? Take in il. lustration the vast power of gravity. Before Science raised the veil from the distant, we knew it only in the fact of the fall of a stone, or in the roundness of a drop of water: now we have followed it through the complex motions of the Moon, and through the order of the entire system. It pursues the Comets through the abysses; it governs the orbits of the double and triple stars; it guides the Sun in his path through the skies; aye, and even those stupendous evolutions of firmaments, during which the stars congregate into dazzling clusters, or arrange themselves in galaxies. Boundless the sphere of this Force; and shall an Energy yet nobler, more subtle, probably with a root much more profound, be fancied so weak, so feeble, so dependent on circumstances, that only in our world, or some one like it, it is free to work out its wonderful products? Look at its history in that very Earth. In the chalk cliffs, in caverns unseen by the Sun, in marshes that to Man are desolation and death, Life yet teems and rejoices-its forms growing in adaptation to their conditions. Long ages ago the odd Kilobite swarmed in our oceans, and the large-eyed Ichthyosaur dashed through their waters. These are gone, but plastic Nature, ever forming with ceaseless activity, has by the most mysterious of her actions, brought up new forms to play their parts among her vast scenes. Through Space as through Time, she is doubtless working; and with all their joys and sorrows-evolving far mightier results than dead, inorganic worlds. I see this in the blush of the morning which beams on all these globes, and there too, awakens the glad creatures from their repose. I see it in the downfall of evening, that speaks of refreshment from toil. I see it in the progress of the Earth, and