in all things, has led me to these few remarks; and should their publication, with the divine blessing, be made useful in leading any young persons who may have been halting between two opinions, to choose that path which will be most to the glory of God, and which will also ensure peace to their own souls, it will be an occasion for humble thankfulness to

A YOUNG CHRISTIAN.

GOD is holy; then let the true Christian rejoice. How solid, how substantial is the hope which this very perfection in God gives him. Is he holy? Then will he uphold his own work in the soul; his very holiness secures it; it forms its highest safety. Not so carefully does the miser watch over and protect his gold, as the Divine Being watches over and defends his own work in the soul of man. However it may be tried and assaulted from foes within and foes without, however faint and feeble the believer may be, however sore let and hindered in running the race that is set before him,-however he may sometimes exclaim, "cast down," "troubled on every side," "perplexed," however strait and narrow his way may be, however steep and arduous the hill, still a holy God will bear him up, and carry on the work of holiness which he has begun.-Evans' Checks to Infidelity.

ON THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN PARENT.

OUR readers will peruse the following touching stanzas with greater interest and sympathy, when we tell them that the beloved and venerated saint whose departure gave rise to them, Lady M, was the author of the Notes on Genesis,' which we hope to continue inserting in these pages.

O come not to comfort me, comfort is flowing
From Him who alone can make darkness seem

light;

Like ointment his word, its rich blessings bestowing, Comes soothing, refreshing, pure, healing, and bright.

We know not despondency's murmuring sadness,
We know that our loss is her infinite gain,
We can follow her soul to its dwelling of gladness,
Where with Jesus she waits to partake of his reign.

We grieve not to think that her sorrows are ended, That sweetly she sleeps, though we hear not her

voice;

Having laid down His cross that she sees him ascended, We grieve not, we murmur not-nay, we rejoice.

532 ON THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN PARENT.

Rejoice to look back on the way that he brought her, Through darkness and anguish to rest on his love, Rejoice that the Spirit of holiness taught her,

And her heart drew from earth but to fix it above.

Rejoice to look on to the glory before her,

When Jesus shall come, and shall claim her his own,

Rejoice that all glorious the grave shall restore her, To share in his crown, and to sit on his throne.

Rejoice that she rests on the bosom of Jesus,
Nor hears when her loved ones groan under the

rod,

Though sin may betray or calamity seize us,

Her spirit sleeps calm in the arms of her God.

Rejoice for ourselves, while we mourn her departing,

That all things are working together for good; That each sigh that is heaving, each tear that is starting,

Is a herald of blessings not yet understood.

Yet torn are the tendrils around the heart clinging,
Tho' faith owns its debt of unspeakable bliss;
We weep while the song of thanksgiving is sing-
ing-

'Tis sanctified sorrow, but sorrow it is.

The hand that was raised but to fondle or bless us, The eye that so tenderly dwelt upon ours,

The bosom to which she so fondly would press us, The lip that gave voice to her spirit's bright powers,

ON THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN PARENT. 533

Where are they?-corruption is preying upon them, The green sod has covered the light of our eyes, And hard must the heart be that would not bemoan

them;

Rebellious the soul that its chastening denies.

Yes! nature must weep-and grace smiles on her weeping,

Soft, soothing, and sweet are our tears o'er the

blest,

Forgetfulness 'tis, while the loved one is sleeping, That sends her barbed arrows to torture the breast.

Then come not to comfort me-come still reviving Each slumbering sorrow, each thought of the dead, Each tender remembrance new energy giving,

And I'll bless thee with every tear that I shed.

We shrink not from sorrows, we see them in Jesus,
They point us to Him, and they tell of his love;
But dry not the fountain of grief till he pleases
To send o'er its streams the o'ershadowing dove.

H. B. M.

FEMALE BIOGRAPHY OF SCRIPTURE.

REBEKAH.

No. I.

"GODLINESS," says the apostle, "is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come; and if it were required to furnish an illustration of the truth of this declaration, from the fact of any individual history in the pages of scripture, perhaps the life of Isaac would afford as complete an exemplification of it, as could be desired. His early piety, his filial love, (exemplified in his devoted attachment to his mother's memory, and in his unswerving obedience to his father's commands) his irreproachable conduct as a husband, and the tender affection he bore towards his wife and children-his peaceful, unambitious, disinterested behaviour to the people in whose territories he sojourned, these all shew him to have been one whose care it was to live soberly, righteously and godly in this present world. On the other hand, how strikingly do the events of his peaceful history contrast with the lives of others of the patriarchal fathers. With no reverses of fortune, nor severe family bereavements; with no mental anxieties, nor personal hardships; the pilgrimage of Isaac was one of which