WHAT IS THIS LIFE.

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the way he talked to her faithfully on the subject of religion.

"Ellen," said he, "do you believe in religion?" "Certainly," she replied. "I was brought up a Methodist, and am firmly persuaded that religion is true."

"Why, then, do you not seek it? Why put it off for an hour?" and starting from her admissions, he earnestly set before her the folly and guilt of deferring so great a work. He urged her especially to seek it by prayer.

ELLEN C. was the child of pious parents. Her home was a chapel; for in earlier times the preach- At meeting, the words of the Quaker convert weighed ing, in western settlements, was at those private dwel- so heavily on her conscience that Ellen commenced lings where the circumstances of central position, and praying. Her heart was still more deeply smitten of a hearty welcome, invited the minister's appoint- under her own efforts. She returned home sorely conments. Before Ellen's birth, and for years succeeding, victed, and continued in mental struggles to seek God. her father's dwelling entertained the preacher and his On the following day a difficulty arose, which we will congregation. It happened, of course, that the chil-mention for the good of others. Ellen was seized with dren of the family were familiar with meetings, and a sudden concern in regard to the origin, or rather the with the domestic habits of itinerating clergymen. Ellen, amongst the rest, was wont to discharge towards them those little offices of Christian hospitality which are due from pious families to Christ's servants for their Lord's sake. She doubtless gave to more than one a cup of cold water; and if reverence for the office they bore could meet that condition of the precept, "in the name of a disciple," Ellen might have claimed the promised reward; for in her childhood she looked upon a minister of Jesus as more like an angel than a frail mortal, liable to err, and himself needing the blood || of atonement to cleanse and keep him pure. O, that Christ's ministers may always so demean themselves as to justify a high degree of reverence for their office and its incumbents!

means of her conviction. She traced it to the conversation of her young Quaker (now Methodist) friend. She was a young lady-she was troubled lest there should be an impropriety in the connection between her conviction and the warnings given her by a young gentleman. How artful are the devices of Satan! Had she been successfully solicited by him to attend a ball, or devote herself in any form to the gayeties of the world, such a suggestion would never have disturbed her. But to be influenced by a young gentleman, not to levity, but to sobriety-not to folly, but to wisdom-this the greatest adversary would have her believe was improper and indelicate. In this instance Satan was foiled. The very assault seemed to deepen her conviction. While pondering this question of propriety, the importance of seeking Jesus, and that without delay on any account, became more and more apparent. She therefore applied herself more ardently than ever to the Bible and to prayer, resolved at all

Ellen was not, even in childhood, without the frequent visitations of the Holy Spirit to her young heart. She often wept under the sermon, and had her feelings moved by the relations of Christian experience in the class-room. It is probable that these frequent impres-hazards to secure the interests of her soul. sions would have resulted in conversion, and in a staid She committed one error. A quarterly meeting was youthful Christian character, but for one paternal error.appointed for the circuit. Six or eight weeks were to Ellen was not taught to pray in her closet. No admonitions of this sort drew her into the paths of righteousness and peace. And we trust the reader will not forget the consequences of this paternal negligence, namely, Ellen was almost a young woman before she knelt in secret prayer.

intervene before its arrival. She fixed on that as the time to find the Savior. Though she attended, in the meantime, to closet and social prayer, yet these were rendered less efficient by the waiting posture of her mind. At length the time of meeting drew near. It was to be held seven or eight miles from her father's house. Up to the Friday before its commencement, she saw but little prospect of reaching the place. On that day some young people called, and whether fretted by disappointment, or betrayed by natural temper, she indulged in trifling conversation. On reflection, this, too, contrary to the design of the adversary, increased the subsequent agony of her mind, and deepened in her heart the purpose to be a Christian.

In the seventeenth year of her age she was invited to dine at a friend's house, with several young persons of the neighborhood. Amongst the guests was a young gentleman of Quaker parentage and training, who, having "slipped the bridle" of home discipline and restraint, and lived sometime after the fashions of the world, had been recently converted among the Methodists. He was now warm in his first love, and with becoming zeal ceased not to warn his young On Saturday an opportunity providentially occurred companions to turn from death unto life. In the to attend the quarterly meeting. She gladly embraced course of conversation he proposed to go with Ellen it. When mourners were called, she was the first to that evening to a prayer meeting, and return with approach the altar, and kneel for the prayers of God's her thence to her father's house. She went. On people. Here she intended to plead mentally but not

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audibly for pardon and regeneration. She determined, || she did not professedly seek it. Yet she felt a hungerwith all the strength of purpose she could command, ing after righteousness, and was waxing stronger in not to let her voice be heard. She felt not the fear of God, until the following incident greatly interrupted hell, but the oppressiveness of sin, and how dreadful it her comfort and progress. is to have offended God. This she felt more and more as she bowed at the altar, till her lips broke the silence, and with a loud voice she cried for pardoning mercy.

Her soul was almost instantly eased of its burden, and in twenty minutes after she approached the altar, the gracious work was wrought. She had no ecstasies-expressed none. But she had the witness that she was reconciled to God.

Her peace, however, was soon interrupted. A young lady who was kneeling by her at the altar, and who had not sought religion till the meeting commenced, professed conversion at nearly the same moment with herself. She was filled with unutterable ecstasy, and shouted aloud the praises of God. Ellen overheard some of the members say, "That is the right kind of conversion-such as I like to see." They seemed to treat her case differently, as doubting whether it could be genuine. This awakened self-distrust. The meeting closed. For six months she went on, attending to duty, resolving to be, if she was not, a Christian. She often felt peace, and sometimes joy; but there were also intermissions of doubt and disquiet, which could often be traced to the discouraging circumstances above referred to. One of her sisters soon followed her into the Church, but did not obtain a lively faith in the Redeemer.

She became acquainted with a lady of another Church, who manifested a deep interest in her state, and took occasion to inquire minutely into the exercises of her mind. After many conversations, at various times, she essayed to beguile Ellen, not as the serpent did Eve, but with the less guilty aim of bringing her off from Methodism, and introducing her to safer Church communions. For this she gave her young friend a relation of what she had seen amongst the Methodists-how they "professed much and practiced little," and, in a word, held them up by implication to the unsuspecting Ellen as hypocrites of the most hopeless class. She also procured a young clergyman to second her pious endeavors with all the zeal he could summon to the task. The consequence was that Ellen declined the acquaintance of both, and betook herself to class and other meetings with a design to be an upright Christian, and to continue her membership in the Church to which she belongs.

But though Ellen's firmness of character, and the grace of God, preserved her from this snare, Satan took advantage of the circumstance to her temporary loss. Remembering the insinuations thrown out against the morals of some Church members, she became distrustful of nearly all. When her class-mates professed communion with God, her heart involuntarily drew A camp meeting was to be held twenty-five miles back from confiding in them. Thus her charity was from Ellen's residence. She was anxious to go, and restrained. From suspecting others she began at last have the company of the family along with her. After to suspect herself, and became doubtful of her own much perplexity and toil, she obtained the concurrence frames and professions-doubtful whether she was herof some of her brothers and sisters, and started to the self sincere. This temptation soon left her, but its efground with strong hopes that both they and herself fects remained. She lost her enjoyment, and for many might be abundantly blessed. Here Ellen was exer- weeks was forsaken to sadness and sorrow of heart. cised with peculiar anxiety for her friends; and one||In the midst of her trouble she saw a young man in the brother was converted and joined the Church. An-|| agonies of death, who enjoyed such manifestations of other of the family, who was previously a member, embraced religion. Ellen herself was exceedingly blessed. She spent several hours in a state of such absorbing communion with God, that she noticed nothing around her. Her expressions of confidence and joy were so unusual that her sister was much disturbed on account of it, and became so exasperated on the way home, that she could not conceal the thorns of her temper. She said that it was "wild fire," and that a "rain or two would put it out"-to all which, and many fiercer words, Ellen responded only with the most gentle, conciliating language.

Christ's love as bore him up in his struggles, and made him quite insensible to fear and pain. While witnessing his triumphs, it forcibly occurred to her that Christians need more grace in life than in death-that their temptations and trials, in the midst of health, are more severe than those in the closing scene of life; and that He who supplied abounding grace to the less needy dying, will not withhold it from those more needy in their struggles with the world. This thought may have been original with Ellen. It is possible that, on close examination, it will be found a just conclusion. To live right certainly requires much grace. The reflection did not restore Ellen's peace, but it encouraged her to seek more earnestly.

From this time Ellen had no doubts about her conversion. For three years and a half she lived in the clear enjoyment of religion, and had many glorious manifestations of the Savior's presence. But for all that period she never seriously turned her attention to the subject of sanctification. She scarcely adverted to the theme, or noticed it understandingly if it was dwelt upon by others in her hearing, until she left the country, and took up her residence in the city. Even then sanctification. She merely felt that she needed to be

The yearly camp meeting for the city and neighboring circuits was at hand. Ellen prepared to attend. She went with a desire, rather than an expectation to be blessed. She felt needy-very needy. Her mind was not turned toward blessings of any particular sort or name. She thought not of perfect love, or entire

len, with some others, stepped forward and mingled with them. A minister said, "Let us pray." Just then the inquiry came to her heart, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" The voice again, or an impression so clear and deep as to be like a living voice, replied, "You are expected to pray." This she had never yet been able to do in public, with any composure or propriety. But forgetful of all usual embarrassments, she burst forth in prayer, and immediately forgot all but God and the intense illuminations of his

or it might be said into, heaven, and her whole being became absorbed in God. In the midst of this beatitude, the thought occurred to her, "What is this?" And, by what seemed to be a still clearer voice, ringing through all her soul, it was replied, “Full redemption!"

blessed. The tent to which she belonged was occupied by members of the Church who were seeking full redemption. But they committed one great error. Instead of adhering to the order of the meeting, in listening to the sermons, and joining in the regular public devotions, they tarried in their tent, held private prayer meetings,, and, as far as their example went, encouraged inattention to the services of the occasion. Ellen declined their method. She went into the congregation at the prescribed signal, heard the sermons, and gave diligent heed to all the public exercises. Still overwhelming glory. She seemed lifted up toward, depressed, and continually meditating how much grace she needed, and how little she seemed to possess, about the third day of the meeting a sister called on her and expressed a desire to open her feelings, and get some advice. Ellen felt that she could give her no counsel, as she needed herself to receive rather than impart. But the sister proceeded to unfold her embarrassments, while Ellen listened in silence. When the sister had finished, Ellen in return rehearsed her own difficulties, and in the course of her remarks reiterated the thought which occurred to her at the death-bed of the young man, namely, that "we need more grace while living than when dying." In the very act of uttering these words, she felt a sensation as if produced by a voice, not human but divine, as it were a heavy, trumpet-like sound, thus: "It shall be so"--and an assurance was then given her (by an impression on her mind so deep that it seemed vocally announced from heaven) that she should have all the grace of which she had been speaking-enough for both life and death.

Just then the signal called the congregation to the stand, and Ellen seated herself to hear the sermon. The services proceeded; but she received no impression from any thing external. The hour was spent by her in a depth of communion with God to which hitherto she had been an utter stranger. It absorbed all her powers; and though sights and sounds were around her, and probably, as usual, impressed her senses, yet they seemed to gain no cognizance of the soul-they did not reach the inward man. She was taken up with inward workings, which she found no power to describe, though they were exceedingly clear and definite to herself. Perhaps the most natural description would be, her soul communicated with Jehovah, as in a dialogue, concerning the assurance lately given that "she should have all the grace of which she had been speaking." "How," said her heart, addressing God, "wilt thou have me to receive this grace? How can such and such difficul ties be overcome?"-naming, mentally, the hindrances which, one by one, came to mind. As fast as she queried God seemed to reply, and with the reply came the removal, or the satisfactory solution of the difficulty to which the query related. In this exercise she passed the hour occupied by the sermon, communing not with earth-not with the saints around her-not with the preacher-not with God through the preacher or his expositions of the Divine word; but with God in her own heart, through the Spirit. At length the mourners were called. The altar was soon filled. El

Original.
ADMONITION.*

SUSAN, I would the power were mine

To catch the muse's sweetest strain-
And breathe it o'er this page of thine
In language kind but plain.
Although thy life like fairy land

Now spreads its charms around thee,
And Love and Hope, with accents bland,
Perchance have sought and found thee-
Tho' Pleasure fills thy golden bowl,

Nor thinks of coming years,
She cannot future life control,
Nor dry affliction's tears.

The youthful eye ne'er seems to mark
The rapid flight of Time,
Till he, with his untiring speed,

Has brought them near their prime.
But when the dreams of youth have fled,
And cares come clustering round,
They seem to hear his very tread,

And startle at the sound.

Then let me warn a youthful friend
To improve as swift it flies-
The season God so kindly lends

To fit us for the skies.

The purest joys we e'er can know
Arise from peace within;
And peace will like a river flow

In hearts redeemed from sin.

Then while the bloom is on thy cheek,
And friends are round thee pressing,
This lasting peace, dear Susan, seek-
"Twill sanctify each blessing. AUGUSTA.

*These lines were written sometime since for the album of a fashionable young lady, who has recently been converted.

ON SUBMISSION.

BY ANTONIA BOURIGNON.

ON SUBMISSION.

153

sin if we consent not to it. On the contrary, these temptations purify our souls, by our resistance and the uneasiness they make us suffer. We must in this, as in every other thing, submit our wills unto God, who will never suffer us to be tempted beyond our strength. But this submission of ours must be absolute in all things, cORPOREAL, TEMPORAL, SPIRITUAL, yea, ETERNAL.

Original.

LIFE'S TRAVELER.

affliction, that thou wailest thus on thy way?" And the traveler answered, "My path is long and weary; it is full of thorns and thistles; my feet are bleeding with sharp rocks, and my bosom is torn with briars; my sight is dim, and I fear to lose my way; darkness gathers around me, and I know not which way to turn; my ear is dull, and I hear not the voice of the torrent till it roars at my feet; the bitter north winds pierce me through; the sun looks fiercely upon me, and I faint; they who travel with me, and who should assist me in my feebleness, rush rudely by, and overturn me as they pass; they darken my way by inter

ALL perfection consists in submitting our wills unto that of God. This is all that he requires of us. For God, who possesses all things in himself, has need of nothing; but was and is still desirous that we should submit our wills unto his: and good reason for it, because we were created for him, and have received all of him. If we hope for any happiness, it must come from him; seeing none can either save himself or any other creature. It is from God alone that we are to hope for this. Why, then, AN aged man of God encountered a traveler who are we unwilling to subject our wills to his, seeing smote his breast and broke into loud and deep lait is good and reasonable so to do, and seeing God re-mentation. And he said, “My brother, what is thy quires no other thing of his creatures but submission to his holy will? Could he demand less than this submission of his creatures, whom he had drawn out of nothing, that he might raise them to what they are, promising them eternal joy and delights of eternal duration, provided they would submit unto his holy will? Is not this the least he could demand for so many benefits, so many felicities, so many favors, as he hath bestowed upon them? I entreat you not to trouble yourself with the many methods that men have invented for attaining salvation; for the devil insinuates himself into all material things, be they ever so good and pious, but can never get hold ofcepting its faint light; they toss the brambles from this submission of our wills to God, because this is a spiritual act, wherein our enemy can find no matter whereby to tempt us in any manner. Hold fast by this, contemning all his wiles and temptations, which merit not that a child of God should stop at them, seeing they are nothing but smoke, which vanishes into air as soon as we have recourse to our true almighty Father, who never fails us if we seek to him in time of need. I have always found more help under temptations when I have had my recourse unto God, than when I have stood disputing it with the devil, who is not worthy that a child of God should defend himself against him, who is only his own enemy, and hath no power over us, if our wills be not consenting to it. Therefore be not troubled about the fantasies and temptations which he raises to you, whether when you are awake or asleep, provided you remain firm in your resolution not to offend God any And the holy man inquired, "Whither dost thou more. Have your recourse only unto God, and pray travel? what is the goal of thy journeying?" And to him that he would rather let you die than consent the traveler said, “I am journeying to the house of unto sin. This will speedily relieve you from the my Father; I am traveling home; I know that there. temptation, and thus you shall overcome the devil I shall be welcome; for though my dim sight so often without fighting with him. This is what I have ex-mistakes the direction, yet hath my Father sent me his perienced in myself, and what you may also make trial of in your own person, and be not troubled for any evil thoughts that may be suggested unto you. Disregard the importunities of these as you would do that of the flies in the summer heat. Though you should be vexed with evil thoughts all your life, this will not make you less agreeable unto God, IF YOU TAKE NO PLEASURE IN THEM, and GIVE NO CONSENT UNTO THEM; for the devil cannot make us VOL. III.-20

their own feet under mine; they bewilder me by adverse counsels, and lead me into crooked paths as I follow them; they pluck rich fruits by the wayside, which I in my weakness cannot reach, and forget that I am fainting. There were those who traveled with me for a season, whom I loved and who held up their light that I might also see; and they pitied my wounds, and bound them up as we journeyed, and they pointed out the green places, and we sat together by the fountains in the wilderness, and I gathered strength as we held sweet converse. But one by one they have faded like a vision from my sight; they have all passed away! they flit by me in my dreams, but they mock my grasp; their voices come upon my ear on the night breeze, but I call on them and they do not answer! Askest thou why I lift up my voice in sorrow?"

chart and compass to guide me on my way." And the man of God once more questioned, "In this thy Father's house, what is it that awaits thee?" The faith of the traveler kindled at the thought, and he replied, "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, the fullness and the joy thereof. All the glories and delights, which I see at a distance on my way, and for which I often mourn, are as nought to the least of the abundance that is there awaiting me. The glorious hues