6 make mention of what one has done wrong, and to ask forgiveness for it.' The last agony drew nigh. He desired to be raised in bed, and tried, as on former occasions, to find relief in a change of posture. Bless the Lord for all his mercies! how the Lord supports me,' he observed with great composure. The sitting posture did not ease him, 'Lift me up,' was his next direction to his attendants, and thrice they raised him. It will not do, it is all the same,' he remarked, and gently falling on his pillow, the dying saint uttered these striking words, Into thy hands, O Lord, I commit my spirit.' 'Jesus is with you in this trying hour,' it was observed. 'O yes; won-der-ful-ly! won-der-ful-ly!' Further utterance was denied him, and he gently fell asleep in Christ. "Well may we say, 'Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!" " A DEATH-BED TESTIMONY. A MINISTER One day attended the dying bed of a young female, a member of his congregation. In answer to his inquiries, she said, "I have little to relate, as to my experience. I have been much tried and tempted, but this is my sheet anchor, He has said, 'him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' I know I come to him, and I expect that he will be as good as his word. Poor and unworthy as I am, he will not trifle with me, or deceive me. It would be beneath his greatness, as well as his goodness. I am at his feet, and you have often said, ""Tis joy enough, my All in All, At thy dear feet to lie; SELECTIONS FROM VISITORS' JOURNALS, 1836. MRS. died the 5th of February; a friend who kindly visited her in my absence, and in whose section she resided, has given me the following account of her :-She had known her for upwards of five years, and during this time, when placed in very trying circumstances, (being deserted by her husband, and in ill health, left to provide for herself and children,) she manifested the greatest patience, and exhibited very a firm reliance on the promises contained in the Holy Scriptures. She was a regular attendant at the Chapel of Ease, and frequently spoke of the comfort and consolation afforded to her there. The sacraments, she observed, were very precious seasons, and that the house of God was to her the gate of heaven. Her trials in her family continued, for her eldest son, who should have been a comfort to her, was now a source of constant trouble; but her spirits never seemed entirely to give way till she was deprived by illness of attending the sanctuary; at the visit which was paid her after, she wept very much, and said that it was the greatest trial she had yet experienced. It is right that I should here mention the gratitude she expressed for the assistance afforded her by this society, and particularly those kind friends who interested themselves for her. She also spoke with great thankfulness of the visit of the Rev. J. The last few days of her life were greatly embittered by the conduct of the beforementioned son, who was then in prison awaiting his trial; on being asked at this time the state of her mind, she said, "Wave upon wave, each one seems to drive me nearer to the rock Christ, upon whom I am fixed, in whom all my hopes are placed." At another time she observed, "All is indeed very dark without, but all is peace within;" and continued, "Firm as the rock his promise stands,""&c.: on being spoken to about her children, she said, "I have left them in good hands; that God who has led me all my life long will watch over them." The evening before her death she was asked if she had any message to her eldest son; she answered, "Oh, no; but do all pray for him; he is a sad wicked wanderer, but I have often wrestled hard in prayer to God for him, and He who enabled me to persevere in earnest for him, will, I trust, bring him to see his awful state, and I hope that I shall yet meet him in glory." The last few hours she appeared engaged in prayer, and then peaceably fell asleep on the bosom of that Saviour who has promised to be with believers, yea, even in the dark valley of the shadow of death. During my absence from town, the lady who visited for me, became acquainted with a young woman who was very ill. She had respectable friends in the country, but imbibed the too common notion it would be a fine thing to live in town; she was sent therefore to London, under the protection of some other relations, who got her a place, where she bore a good character, but leaving for some trifling fault, and ashamed probably of going back to her relations, she went into lodgings, where a wicked woman gained a complete ascendency over her, and in fact took possession of her for her own vile purposes. Wearied of her horrible life, the poor young thing endeavoured to escape from her tyrant, but was speedily retaken. When visited, she seemed very penitent, but was quite helpless, being confined by a fever to her bed. The visitor took lodgings for her, sent for her mother, and in the mean time had her taken care of medically and otherwise. Though dreadfully ill, she felt before many weeks, the benefit of nursing and kindness; a small subscription was raised, and, as soon as her strength permitted, an inside place in a coach was provided; the kind lady alluded to went with her, and seeing her in the coach, concluded all was safe, and retired into the inn, when immediately the poor creature was surrounded by her former companions, who were determined, by promises or threats, once more to get her amongst them. Frightened and exhausted from the effect of getting to the coach, she was scarcely sensible, and these wretched creatures, taking advantage of a slight fainting fit, would, it is believed, have succeeded in their wicked purposes, and carried her off, but for the timely interference of her protector, who has had the satisfaction of hearing a good account from her and her friends. Another elderly woman was found in a state of great destitution, and if not immoral, was living with very bad characters, and without God in the world. Her mind became impressed by the conversation of the infant school-mistress; she attended a Gospel ministry, and was got into a respectable situation, the blessing of which may be in some measure appreciated, when I mention, that at first I found her in a small attic, which at one time thirteen men, women, and children, inhabited nightly. On one occasion I found the master of this place, in order to make it according to his notions tidy, sweeping up the cabbage leaves under one of the beds. It will not be a matter of surprise, that he was the first in my district who fell a victim to the cholera. I was asked by a friend to visit a woman who had sent to her at ten the preceding night. She was engaged in some very wicked pursuit, she never told me what, when the thought rushed into her mind, "If I should die!" The awful consequences so struck her mind, she nearly fainted. She quitted her lodgings that very night, and took a respectable room in Liquorpond-street. She had with her one woman who was, I believe, herself religiously impressed. From all her wicked companions she most carefully concealed her abode. We found her apparently in a dying state. Her horror was extreme; she could not at first lay hold of the exceeding great and precious promises of the Gospel, but she was soon enabled to do so, yea, and "greatly to rejoice." "Oh!" she said to my friend, "you do me more good than all the medicine." The balm of Gilead soothing her mind, soon restored her bodily health. The last I heard of her she was going on well in all respects. * In commencing my labours as a district visitor, among the numerous families which I visited, two individuals seemed particularly to demand attention and excite my sympathy. One of them was a very aged and lone widow, the other a young female in a deep decline. The former at first obstinately rejected my visits, and the latter was not only ignorant of, but reckless of, that future state upon the very brink of which her poor benighted soul was hovering. And very heavily and very slowly, she received those blessed truths, on the belief of which depended the eternal welfare of her immortal spirit. She languished in much bodily suffering for a few months, and through the grace of God, became by degrees sensible of her state as a miserable sinner, and of the all-sufficiency of her Saviour's redeeming love. She expressed herself as having grievously sinned, living without God in her heart or thoughts, having rejected opportunities given her of attending public worship while in service, and of having so continually and wilfully broken the Sabbath. She often told me that, should it please God to spare her, her great delight would be to honour his holy day, and hear his word. Her gratitude was very great for every kindness, both for her temporal and spiritual comfort, afforded by the district visitors. And though she but dimly saw the glory of the Lord, and perhaps but feebly appreciated the value of his bitter death. and passion, yet she felt his love Jesus was her rock and refuge, and in the last few days of her painful existence, she was incessantly calling upon Him; and his precious name lingered on her lips as they closed in death. It appears as if God had graciously allowed the efforts of this district society to be instrumental in leading this poor ignorant creature towards the foot of the Cross, and on the road to glory. I know not whether my fellow brother and sister visitors experience, as I do, much faintness of heart and weariness of spirit, while passing over and over again from house to house -from family to family-imparting the glad tidings of great joy which we bear in hand and in heart-received with so much apathy and so little concern. I felt this especially in my repeated endeavours to win over the aged widow; it was a very disagreeable, though a very imperious duty. At the advanced age of eighty-one, no time was to be lost, or labour deferred, to strive to arouse her slumbering soul. At first she would not allow me to pass the door of her miserable garret, waving me away with her decrepit hand. Some months elapsed before I gained sufficiently her confidence to be permitted to sit down by her side, and that great point was attained by the trifling testimonies of goodwill that had generally accompanied the preceding visits. She became by degrees less querulous, and less uneasy in my company. Dark, wretched, and discontented with all around her, she presented the most melancholy spectacle of enfeebled old age, without a single ray of Gospel light to cheer her way through the vale of death. She was, or pretended to be, extremely deaf, so that to hold a continual conversation was impossible. This infirmity seemed at first to present an insurmountable impediment to Christian instruction. Her Bible, a present from her late mistress, was sadly mutilated, torn, and dusty; she could not see to read, and she never attended public worship on account of her many infirmities. It was in the middle of winter, that a pair of spectacles adapted to her sight, and a Testament of a large print, were presented to her; but little hope accompanied the gift, for, on receiving it, she promised herself to lock up the Testament safe until the spring, and to begin to read when the fine weather came. Through grace she was made sensible of the danger of delay-that ere another spring returned, her perishing body would be in all human probability mouldering in the dust, and her spirit called before that awful Judge whose saving mercies she had so obstinately rejected. How |