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F u n t'u t > Pastor's Journal.
X).\NIV BALDWIN OR. IHE iMIL
LEL’S SON.
FURNISHED BY A CLERGYMAN.
Tire ftihoi ol ms youth, who tonus the sub
. . f the following narrative, is a respectable
i. .|.-i of the county ol Kings, Long Island.—
11 • has for several years past, occupied onu of
iltose numerous mills, moved by the tidewa
teisot he ocean, which stand along the bays
indenting ns southwestern shore. Ihe wide
expanse of land and water, which these locu
tions usually pi esent to tne eye, the noise of the
w-tv-s, the tumultuous roarings of die ocean,
wnh be occasional mtror and majesty of the
s'orm, are admirably calculated to give a phil
osophical, if not a religious turn, to a reflecting
mind.
A i one of these mills the youth alluded io
*-s brought up. He was born in the autumn
! • ht< on hundred and ten. His oppoituntty
fce;ving an education was nothing more
;.m wh *t a common district school afforded.
tL ' king through ail the local disadvan
' i.is situation, he made very tespectable
• "ills in liiora’ure and science. With
: ' lion ofthe Latin awFGieek langua
'• ady of which he was abou to com
jp e s'liAaSsed in genera! knowledge
i ■ e yoe di who yearly issued from our
j M I <wand divinity. Tire native pow
uf iiis mind were of the highest order.—-
*";dy intellectual, he was able to grapple
t. any subject to which his attention was
en, In thy accomplishment of hispuri.os
l»e appeared to be emirely unbending, and
•<immovably tep icious of the opinions he em
braced; nevertheless he was kind and conde
scending in his feelings, sober, quiet, and indus
trious in his habits.
The constant reso-t to his father’s mill, by
the inhabitants of trie adjacent country, for the
'sp ice oi several miles, rendered it a position
extremely I ivorablii lor exerting an extensive*
i-ilmmcc; but most unhappily, as it appeared
k-.-i, tor tec-interests of the Christian religion,
me, for tin s ’ids of many who admired his char
acter- and talents, he embraced tb it system of
.liiyoiis which regards the Bible as a fable,
■•n t Jesus Chi is' our blessed Saviour, as an im
- ixti'i. On this subject lie seemed to be pots
■ ted to th'- very inmost soul; lie appeared to
ribrjce these soul-destroying opinions with all
heart; they absordid h s whole mind, and
ipl'.tf-Iy warped his understanding, in other
• ■ s-irins remarkably good, and perverted his I
j ■ ;arm nt, otiiei wise extremely clear. Here j
: ride of (he cam d heart was billy display- I
cd, oid the perversion of our fallen nature the I
hj'iSi rlbaily manifested, be became thorough
ly • s i in the whole system of infidelilt; he
knew II he objections? and arguments which
for iwn Hundred years past the infidels of Eu
rope and America have been using against the
B bio. Over these he pored by night and by
d y, he know which wire strong and which
w e weak, and at what pan of the sacred
Sciiptiires each was levelled, -.t the same time I
lie had acquired <i<j sm ill d groe of adroitness)
io apolymg them. Indeed it is rare to find a '
Christian more ihoughtful, o> one who studies
hie Bible with so much care and eagerness of
soul, as he studied the arguments and objections
which infidels have every where been bringing
against it
How | >ng it is since he began to embrace
these dangerous opinions, or to drink in this
soul-destroying po ?<>.>; w* ar- unable to say.
It is now neatly three years, since we our
st-lvesfiist became acquainted with the mourn
ful I,c . Passing from ibe house after convers
ing with U»«> family, I perceived him standing
Uta hole dis ante by himself; I stepped aside, I
and addressed a lew words to him on the sub- j
jec. of religion. He immediately replied that I
his views of religion were very different from
niine. I inquired it lie knew of any other way
of life than that which God in the Bible has re
vealed, cr any other Saviour for fallen man
than Ch ist the Lord; ho replied that he did
not believe the Bible to be the inspired word
of God, neither did he believe that Jesus
Christ w sin any respect a Saviour, or that)
num bad any need of salvation. 1 expressed )
my surprise and astonishment at the declara
tion *f such sentiments, and affectionately ad
monished him of their sinfulness and danger.-
As time and circumstances did not then admit
ol discussion, and knowing his vigorous pow
ers ind unyielding nature too well to believe
th i' to- would surrender his views without an
eff - , 1 i< quested an interview with him at
some future day. To this lie asst nted. H iv
ing an land soon aftei .o his father’s mill 1
found him .done, and then, with no other ear
to hear than the ear ot Jehovah himself, and
with uo other eye upon us than that which
Schclh s die Leari, and tries the reins, the
discussion of this momentous question commen
ced. These discussions were continued in the
Srinit> place from lime to time, during the peri
od of several months, unil we have travelled,
Step by step, over the whole system of infidel
ity.
Hume’s metaphysical argument, alleging that 1
TTicricles wete not susceptable of proof, he
seemed to regard as his strong hold. After I
had thought its sophistry, its w nt ot philosophi
cal soundness, even in its fust principles, had
been clearly exposed, he would still cling to It,
nnh a pcitmacity j lainly showing it to
be a chettshed favorite. At one time, whilst
earnestly engaged upon the external evidences
of a divine revelation, he rem iked with energy,
that he would not believe the Bible to be the
inspired Wo d of God, oven if therb were ex
tern i cvidence sufficient to sustain it. Why
slot? I inquired. “The matters contained in
it, and recorded as facts, he replied, are so un
reason able, so inconsistent, so foolish, and so
much ut issue with all our ideas of truth and
propriety, that no man unblinded by superstition
y Ot|i»rejudice can possibly trelievejhem.” What
nn* • hese facts? I nsked; will you please to
name some of them! He mentioned several,
b' ' soon fastened upon the conversion of Saul
..••of Bpsus, showing by his comments that it
h «1 m ide the strongest impression upon his
mmd. «nd th it he viewed it as tho most extra
yaj'tit of them all. I replied that it was a fad
as "< ll attested as any other fact in history
ami hliough there was something unusnal ii
ths occurrence, yet there was certainly noth
• tug unreasonable. As you acknowledge God
jto be the creator of the human soul, there can
be nothing unreasonable in saying that he has
power to renew or change that which he had’
the power to form. If he fashioned it once,
he must surely Illvo power to fashion it again,
or turn it whithaMbever he will. Here he re
verted im rnedittilMMMj^b ihcSpies of time’s
’ proposition, such a conversion
■ must be a miracle, and miracles were not sus
' j ceptible of human proof).
‘ In one of those excursions 1 was frequently
■ making to the mill, the wea..her was extremely
s' boisterous; the roads were filled with mud,
, and ice, and snow, a blackening tram ofcrows
• ■ were beating in the adverse winds above,
• i whilst endeavoring to make their way from ibc
; i adjacent island to the main; every thing around
was calculated to forebode sorrow, and fill the
i : mind with gloom. When lat rived, I said to my
: j young friend, with a serious ait, /was thinking
', as I came along what a gloomy world this is!
‘ It appears to be so full of difficulty and trouble,
. I bad concluded that ifyout views were only
■ correi, it would be much better for us all to
• get together, and administer to each other a
> . pot lion of some fatal diug that would lay us
• I asleep for eve); ii vi'i. 1 ! only be a sleep you
■ I say, and why not go to sleep at once! After
: wo have struggled ihrotigh difficulty and sor
row for years, you tell us il will onij be a sleep
■ at las:: ;1 «.), j can see no reason for continuing
- the struggle any longer. When he recovered
' from the fust emotions ©(’surprise., which this
' strange salutation had occasioned, he replied,
“we must take the bitter with the sweet.”—
1 j Bui the sweet is of short duration, the bitter
-! seems to constitute by far the largest portion of
■ | the cup, 1 continued. Seeing to what conclu-
i Sion n must inevitably come, he adroitly return
i e<f (tie question, saying, “Will you please to
eH me first wh it sustains you? why do you en
<iu>eii?” Hope, 1 immediately replied—the
. hope of a world ui blessedness to come sustains
I us, but you have no hope, you ate constantly
i looking imo the earh as the place of your final
j termination: on your principlesyou can comfort
,'yomselves with no higher destinty than that
| which pei tains to the mere animal part of cre
l ation. But we think our present affl.ctions are
not worthy to bo compared with tbc.gioiy here
aticr to be revealed. At another time, whilst
engaged in argument, I asked him what advan
tage the world would gain, should these princi
ples be universally embraced. They produce
ino hope, but take away many necessary and
I wholesome restraints. Taking away the' Bible
j would bo like liping the flood gates of vice.
i‘ 1 know ii,” said he, “the world is not yet
I suftL tently philosophical to enduro the charge,
L would only be safe to emancipate om South
ern si tve population by degrees, a similar cau- !
turn, said he, musi be obst r\ed tn removing the
restraints which the Bible has so long imposed
upon the human mmd.” Unless, said /, the '
fountain us vice in the heart of man is com
pletely dried up by the operations of that Eler- '
nal Spirit, whom the Bible reveals, J fear |
• dh'se days ol philosophical liberty cun never
| arrive.?
[ Ou another occasion, whilst deeply occupi-j
ed upon this all absorbing subject, i asked him, )
II infidels ever prayed. He said, “he thought
not; ne never knew one that did, nor had he
ever heard of such an instance.” Are infidels,
then, independent of their Maker? He re-j
pile.', No! is it uo: then unreasonable, is it not ;
contrary to the common sense of mankind, that '
independent beings should never thank that
being on whom they always depend, what '
would you say to see a poor, helpless, suffering )
fellow creature by the highway side, ready to
perish, and a man ot wealth and benevolence'
) passing by, touched wnh compassion, kindly j
i relieved and supplied his wants, what would ;
I you say tosee him receive the gift, and turn)
away with dumb s'llletmess fiom the kind giv
et? “1 would siy he was ungrateful, lie ought 1
to thank his benefactor,” he replied. What
would the common sense of mankind say? “It :
would say so too. But,” continued he, *’the !
case is not parallel, our thanks can add nothing ■
,io the glory of the Almighty, he is so far a
bove us.” Neither could the thanks of this j
) miserable being by the highway side, add anv 1
thing to the wealth or respectability of his
kind benefactor, But what is duty? And now
David, I wish to ask you a particular question,!
and I know your integrity too well to believe
that you will deceive me in the answer. *Da
you ever prav? After some hesitation, his
countenance at the same lime betraying the emo- i
lions which agitated it, he answered, “no, I do I
not prii}.” Fhen I think reason must decide that
hat religion which lends it away from the 1
source ol all good, must certainly bo wrong.
I placed in his hind Difficulties of
infideliiv, Leslie’s Short Method with the t
Deists, djr. Paley’s Evidences of a Divine
Revelation he told me he had read. But after |
all th it had passed between us, the details of
which, if written out, would fill a large volume,
he still remained inflexib|\ fitm. He nppear- 1
cd to be as iinmoyeblo as’ the man who had
placed his foundation upon a rock.
Believing farther discussion unprofitable, I
i told him that it most be left to affl ction and
’ death to test the truth and value of our respect—
live principles, and from that time for
| ward we ceased to agitate the question. I s aw
■ him fit quently afterwards, but nothing was said
i respecting the evidences of Divine revelation.
In the mean time a disease with which he had
been afflicted increased, and finally assumed
the consumptive form. He was constrained to
r* linq lish business, an I was soon after entiiely
. confined to the house. During his coiifinement
I called several times to see him inquired after
i i his health, and conversed with him respecting
• .every thing else than that which occupied my
• mind, or field the deepest place in my heart.—
1 From a few hints which he in idvertentlv.dfop-
I peri 111 lite course of these conversations'. I per
t ceived th it his mind was unchanged, and ktiow-
> ing that he was rapidly descending to the tomb,
, I was grieve-l to see him sinking in that condi
-1 t on. As spring advanced his disease made
t alarming strides, he was thrown on the bed,
s and all Lope of recovery was entirely given
- up. He had been one week in this situation
it when 1 called to see him. On entering his
loom, I readily perceived that the hand of ihe
n ! .B'i enemy of man was fastening upon him, and,
t- taking my seal by the side of his bed, I affec-
tionatcly inquired Was. Said he, <C T
am first it is impossible that / should
recover, but i (fm resigned to my fate, or to
the disposal ol the great God of mime.” I
observed that, resignation was good under such
circiHnstances, if it were well founded; but in
I’ltve any thing valuable in it, it must
jest upon spine sure foundation. A resign\-
fibn foiindeffAipon the word of God, the hopes
and promises of the Gospel, must surely be
good for a dying ’man, but if you cast away
the Bible, David, your resignation rests upon
nothing but your own .carnal reasonings, or
your owti vain imaginations. “Every man
! has his opinion,” said he, “the Mahometan has
his opinion, the Jew has his, you have yours,
and I have mine.” That may be so, 1 repli
ed, but still it does not make ail our opinions e- (
qiially wise or safe. As these opinions are
contrary Jo each other, some of them must
: surely be wrong; and new ifyouis are right,
David, all the rest oi us are just as safe as you
> are; but if yours are wiong, O! how awful the
thought! What a mighty diffeience death must
• j make between you and us. “Hush ! hush !”
•I he exclaimed with vehemence, averting Ins
>; face to the opposite side of the room, his whole
i system at the same lime becoming greatly
j agitated. H:s 'anxious mother, agonizing tn
•' soul for tho salvation of her son, c r ied, David!
> David! why will you do so? Turning again,
' he replied to bh Htoiher, “what eke can I say?
> I am too weak io listen to such tilings now.”
5 Waiting until his feelings had in some meas-
> ure subsided, I said, David, ibis is not weak-
■ ness, it is conscience, I have often seen Chi is
ti.tns much weaker than you are, converse for a
•, whole hour upon (be promises and the hopes of
■ the Gospel; 1 have seen them contemplate with
■ delight the glory hereafter to lie revealed but
' you set mto be easily disturbed, you appear to
have butdittle confidence iu your own system:
! il does not appear to bring you any comfort in
1 the prospect of death. “Trouble me no more,”
. said lie, “you could not convince me when 1
was well, it is in vain to think of doing it now
I am sick; do not come here to disturb a dying
j man, let me die in peace.” I iold him I had
| not come to argue, [ had come to pleach
‘ Christ and him crucified, the only way of life,
the truly hope of a resurrection from the dead,
and eternal life beyond the grave. I have not
I come because I am desirous of giving you pain;
I < ane to seek your eternal good; I never hava
, felt any thing but kindness towards you; in all
) our arguments you never saw me manifest anv
other feeling.” “That is so,” said he, “1 never
’ did.” And now. D ivi J, with regard to your
j dying in peace, that cannot be. For you to
die in peace as you now are is utterly impossi
ble. There can be no peace, saiih my G<uJ,
ito the wicked. “You ought to havo charily,”
Slid he, wiib emotion; “it is a poor religion
that charity does not produce charity ” I
would most gladly have charity for yon if I
could, 1 replied; but I cannot have it; tuy Bible )
will not permit me to havo it; my Bible de- !
dares, lie that believeth shall be saved, belli it .
believeth not shall be damned. “That is hard,” '
said he. I continued my discourse, saying to
him, I would take great pleasure in comforting
I you, if it were in my power »o. lq do. But I
know of no way iu which a minister of the
Loid Jesus Christ can comfort a dying man,
but by presenting the promises, hopes, and
) consolations of the Gospel. Tnese, D ivid,
) you have cast aw ty —you have cast away the
; Saviour, and trampled the blood of the covc
i num beneath your feet. How can 1 comfort
; you? Strong as is my desire to do so, you place
j it entirely beyond my power to offer you one
drop of sonsolation. “I hope then, siid he,
' “you will not disturb me.” Perceiving his
i feelings to be much agitated, 1 desisted. After I
I pitusing until he was somewhat composed a- ■
1 gii.i, I said, David, shall I pray with you? 1
He hesitated for a moment, and then answered,
. “No? The- great God of nature connot be
( changed by man’s prayers. He is immutable.”
i Nevertheless, said /, he has declared himself
to be the hearer of prayer—and the rewarder
jof those who diligemly seek him. He has said,
i they that seek sjiail find—they that ask shall’
, receive—and unto them that knock it sh ill be
1 opened. “You may think so,” said he,” “but
I think otherwise.” After another considera
ble pause, in which not a word was spoken by
' any pet son in the room, nor any thing heard
but occasioned by a mother’s and a )
sister’s anguish. 1 said to him, Dovid I must .
now take my leave of you. But shall I ever
i come to see you again? He looked earnestly
I in my face, and with an expression of kindness I
he slowly said, “ifyou will come and see me (
l as a friend.” Then you do not wisii to see nrn
ias a minister of the Gospel? Ho answered
distinctly, “No.” But seeing I sustain that of
. lice, I replied, I cannot reconcile il with mv
sense of duly to visit a dying man without pre
: settling the only hope which God hath provid
ed for the dying—namely, him who hath bro’l
life and immortality to light through the Gos
pel.- (I 1 cotnu to see you I must preach
Christ and him crucified. So saying, with
1 painful emotions I bad him adieu. On retir
ing, his mother requested me to pray with the
family aud the friends who were present in the
adjoining room, to which I readily assented.—
I And when she had set his door wide open, we ,
’ lifted up our souls in earnest supplication to!
that God who his the hearts of all men in his)
hands, and is able to turn them whithersoever I
he will. It was a moment full of indescribable ■
solemnity. A son—a brolhet—a beloved and
admired friend, was about to take his flight to 1
a world of spirits, unreconciled to God, his'
Maker, at enmi.y with Jesus Christ, his Re
deemer, accounting even his precious savins
blood, as an unholy and a hateful thing. We
earnestly besought the Lord to have mercy on
his soul—'obreakatid scatter the delusions of
Satan—to subdue his enmity—to give him light,
and to give him life. After prayer, 1 took mv
. itk'.Ve of the family and deeply afflicted parents,
promising soon to return, fur / was still huwil-
■ ling io yield him up, or to give him over as
■ lost, whilst any portion of his day of grace ap
, peured to rem tin. Returning home, I p on .
i tiered upon allthathad past. I felt exceeding
» !y pained and disappointed at what I had wit
s; nessed, and said to myself, “O, who hath be
? lieved our report, and to whom is the arm of the
, Lord reve ded? lathe Lord’s arm shortened
•, that it cannot save, or his ear heavy that it can.
' no', hear?’’
A little aficr sun-down the same day, ? was
surprised at the reception of a note from a mem
ber of the family; requesting my immediate at
end ’nee, not to delay a moment. Dtvid was
very desirous of.seeing mo. My horse was sad
dled directly, and in a few minutes 1 was there.
When I came in, his father said, “David has
been exceedingly distressed since you were
there. ” f perceived during the day, that he rol
led and <ossed from side to side, groaning as if
m the greatest anguish, and / said to him, Da
vid, what is the mailer?” O,’ said he, ‘I have
no pain of body, but / have such awful distress
and agony of soul.’ Was this distress oc
casioned by the conversation this morning?’
1 O, yes said he, ‘/once thought I could die in
I peace, but now I find I cannot.’ To his moth
| er he atterwards said, ‘O, what a poor prodi-
I g.tl 1 have been. Cun you not pray for me,
mother? Will you not pray for me?” H.j
also requested us to semi for yon which we
immediately did.” When / entered his rootn,
he looked up in my face and said, “/ have
. been deeply distressed since you were here
j this morning.’’ What has given you so much
• trouble, I affectionately inquired. “O,” said
he, “that question respecting the Saviour,”—
Fhen yon began to lose confidence in the o
pinions you have embraced?- “Yes, he repli
ed, “they bring no peace nor comfort to the
* Soul. They do not sustain me. A Saviour
is necessary. /$ there salvaiitm for me?” 1
answered iu the affirmative, and began at once
I to present the fullness and tho freeness of the
■ I Gospel offer, ano to exhibit the ability and
ol our Lord Jesus Christ to save sinners, even
the chief. For tli s purpose Z recited many
passages ot sacred Scripture, such as, Ho! eve
ry one that thirsietli—Come and let us reason
together—Lot the wicked forsike his way—he
t that believeth shall be saved—Believe on the
Lord Jesus Christ and thou shall be saved, /n
j order to give him a view of the nature of
Christ’s substitu ion in the roam and stead ol
sinners—the only means by which we cau be
(delivered from the bin then and condeinna.ion
lof sm—l read and expended, as far as time
would permit, the 53d of Isaiah, and also the
I fifth chapter ot P tul’s Epistie to me Romans,
j Hu listened attentively to all th.it was said.—
i Like ihb new-boi n babe, fie seemed to desire
the genuine .milk of the Word. He se med
'O beemirely subdued and humbled in spi m.
And when / concluded he s i.'d with mnpiiasis,
) “these are comforting truths.” Bm will you
believe them, I inquired. “O res, ’ ' v dl n v V
to believe them.” I then asked if 1 should
prav with him. “Most cert.uniy,” he replied.
“1 should bi* glad to have you io do so,” we
) then tinned in prayer around his dying bed,
, with feelings widely «l fferent from loose we
had experienced in the morning. W ; tiiank
ied the Lord tor his mercy, and for his com-
■ passion to the children of men. We earnest •
!ly besought him, that the good work which
we trusted was so happily begun might be
; carried on to perfection; that the youth before
, us might be made a rich trophy of God’s free,
, ador ,b!e, and ma chless grace. At the close
ot tip? prayer he said aloud, “Amen; so let it
‘be.” When I came again, of tho following
: morning, as he had desired me to do,, the fam
| ily iold me that he had requested his sister to
,bo called before day, to read the Scriptures
for him, and that he himself had engaged in
prayer. To my inquiries-respecting die slate
i of bis mind; be said 1 “there is one thought tb it
particularly troubles me. t have rejected
Christ,/ therefore fear th it Christ will in
justice reject me.” /continued as / had done
the preceding evening, to present Chust in
alibis fulness—bis willingness and bis suffi
j ciency to save. / read and remarked upon
; several passages of sacred Scripture. He
. seemed to catch every word with eagerness as
it feel from my lips. Hi complained of no
weakness—no fatigue. Hi did not seem to
droop, or grow weary. The infirmities of ihe
body appeared to bo forgotten, in his eagerness
to gain the bread of life fur his soul. When /
-had concluded my discourse he siid, “/have
i endeavored to cast myself en irely upon the
mercy of God, as manifested in Jesus Christ.
/ can trust in no other. He only is safe.” After
prayer to the throne of grace, which he closed
as before, by saying Amen, / left him.
The next time 1 camo io see him, ho said,
■ /am like Saul of tarsus. The scales have
| fallen from rny eyes; / can now understand by
experience what that covetsation moans; / can
now see, what before was to me involved in
darkness. 1 feel th it Jesus Christ in precious.
4 How could I have died with tny former views,
and without an interest in Christ? It is painful
to think ot.” He seemed now to regard the
principles of infidelity with the deepest abhor
rence, and to look with wondur and gratitude
at the fearful gulf from which be bud escaped.
1 inquired it his former views bad ever given
him peace or comfort. He replied “Not any.
) I have tried baid to extract comfort from them,
’ but I could never obtain if.” He tho related
to me a long convers ttioo which be had held
that morning with a neighbor, for whom he had
sent, and who had for some time past en'er- i
tamed similar views with himself. “1 told !
him,” said he, “that the philosophy we had j
j been cherishing could not sustain the soul. It
' could not stand the test of death. 1 have had .
to abandon it, and if you ever die happy vou
j must abandon it also.’ 1 He named another)
' neighbor whom he expected to see, and whom |
he felt it his duty to aiimonish. ll* afterwards*
! told me lie had done so, and related the con- j
versation that pissed between them. I ob-
I served to him, that there were -a grout many
who professed to adhere to infidel principles
in this place, an 1 if my life is spread I sit dl
) most probably have an opportunity of address
ing them. \V:t.it shall / §ay to them from i
you? “Tell them,” said he, “that philosophy |
will not sustain tho soul in tiro prospect of)
death. It ctmtaias.no suppoit for a dvinc j
man. Thrt now is tha time to give it up, and
to pray foe rnercy through Jesus Christ.— I
Whilst my life remain, I will d<» what 1 can ;
[to correct tho evil myself.” On quitting the )
room hii mother 'old me that he exacted a !
s >b*mn promise from her that she would burn !
all his infidel books, so th it no other person ’
i might be poisoned by them iti the manner he 1
, bad been. . ..
Contrary to my own expectations, and the 1
j expectations of al! Ids Friends, ho continued
I eleven days from tho time this extraordinary
• j change took place. During this time he Was
seen by a great many individuals, .tnd to al!
who conversed with him, he gave the ind«t de
cided evidence of a change of heart, and a
precious work of grace wrought in the soul.—
All the exercises of his mind seemed to boos a
I highly devotional character. He kept 'his sig-.
I ter constantly employed in reading the sacred
Scriptures. In the Psalms of David'he great
ly delighted, saying at the same time, that all
the rest of the Bible was good.
I called to see him every day except thd
day he died.— Bull seldom entered his room *
j without finding his sister at his bed-side, with
' her Bible in her hand. Seeing her so assidu-
I ous, so intent upon his spiritual comfort 1 could ’
; not refrain from saying to myself, O! how *
I sweet, how precious, how lovely is piety around
tho sick and dying bed. But, alas! how un
sightly, how cold and cheerless must impiety
and unbelief appear in a place like this? A pi- ’
ous sister in a dying room, and around the dy
ing bed, is like a ministering angel come to
soo.h the sinking soul. ■
After a portion of Scripture was read to him
in the morning, he would engage in prayer for
himself and the family. He delighted greatly 1
in prayer. After a long conversation Willi hia ;
..physician respecting his former and his present-'
views ol the Christian religion, he requested
his physician to pray witithim. At the hose of
the prayer, he said with emidi tsis, *“.vh.it a'
blessed privilege Christians enjoy in offering;
up the desires of their he arts to God in behalf
of poor sinful worms of ihe dust.”
Wo were extremely desirous, if Providence
had seen fit to order il, that he might retain
his understanding to ihe last. Bui Infinite
Wisdom determined otherwise. A fever set
ting in, produced a partial deiiiium. But evqn
then, th»j subject of his remuks was the reh
gioti ol Jusus Chiist. He told h.s parents to
ieci an aliar to the Lord. He iold ’hem that
he was going above, that the Lord Jesus Christ
stood ready, wi h outstretced arms to receive
nim. Hu was often tn the attitude of prayer-**
his h tnds clasped upon his bosom—his eye?
dtiected upwards—his lips moving—bis corm*
ten nice fixed, whilst nothing th.it he utie cd
could be distinctly heard. He thus, continued,
; in tne manifestation of hope and confidence in
| tut* Redeemer, until he o>ea lied out hit soul
| as we trust; in (he Lnd Jesus Christ, and as-*
I ceuded to t ioso regions of light and blessedness*.
Iron whence ill errors and delusions Will bo*
forevei ban-shed.
l<o;n tins simple narration of facts, the rea
der caiitiP! fail to perceive how utterly tin si a
bio the strongest hum tn foundation becomes i«
the hour of trial. Wi ll death, judgment, ’and
eternity in view.it becomes as movable as tho
sand, tint is swept away by the flood. No
, foundation will stand (he tost or give solid corn*
fori and consolation to (he soul, but that which
God has laid. That foundation has stood tho
test of ages. No one rcsiing thereon, evor
found himself disappointed, or said at last ho
w<s deceived. The nearer they have ap*
proached the fearful crisis, the moio confidence
they h ive felt iti the truth of God, and the
saving efficacy of his precious Son. When that
awful hour draws nigh, so fir from requirin'’
their Bibles to be burnt as delusive books, their
\ Bibles become more dear to th tir souls.-*
Wncn (he world recedes, when flesh faints,. and
! heart fails, they look up with confidence to Him,
j who hath promised io be the strength of their
i heal ts, and (heir portion for ever. Thousands
I and thousands, iti ail ages, trusting iu Christ,
have died thus: They have met that, which
i has always been the king of terrors to the wick*
: ed, wnh a calm composure, a holy joy, a tri
i umphant fuiih, singing victory, even amidst the
throes of final dissolution.
But take away the Lord Jesus Christ, the
only name given under heaven, whoteby wo x
can be saved, and what is left to bear .up tho
soul? Wiien the sorrows of death encompass,
and the pains ol hell begin to take hold upon it,
what can sustain it? Can the force of human
reason, or the value of human-< merit. Nayl
had it been in the power of humin reason, or
human merit to do so, our young frityid would
have been ajrtply sustained. Its inif llectual »•
perceptions were strong and clear—lds mind
was enlarged by thought—the habits tifhis life
were irreproachable—(his indusiry extracted
all the sweets, which the system of' infidelity
contained and yet he freely confessed, that ho
never experience peace,, until, he found it in
Jesus Christ. In view of those facts, why will
men mist any longer to suclf deluiive hopes?—
I he language this youth employed id all those
whom he called to his dying bed was, “givo it
up. If you would escape the suflciings and an- '
guish I have endured, Give it up.” And if J|
there are any still adhering to this awful deli
num, we would also say, givo it up. If you
would ( scape that tremendous gulf into which
all (he unbelieving will be finally cast—if you
would gain an inheritance in that bh ssed king
dom into which all tho faithful of God shall be,
i.'jltimately gathered, give it up, «nd embrace tha
I Lord Jesus Christ, us he is freely offered to
' you tn the Gosptl.
ANECDOTE. J
I A party of gentlemen in Charleston S. C. ’
; were sitting over their wine after dinner, when
I the convcrs-uiou turned upon the events of th*
' late war. Several hatih s<m | ,nd wet e alluded '
to with enthusiasm, and the splendid victories
on too sea wore had in retnembraril’e. At length I
the convers'Oion turned upon the engagements
between the Constitution and Gucnier? The
gentlemen seemrid to differ on some material
points in relation to that engagement. A
| I" renchman who had seated himself unnoticed,
j and unobtrusively, near the table, happened to
I hear’hedispute, and immediately advam ed with -
'I lively an I graceful air to the iho company* .
I and sxi.l—Jcu'lemcn, vou speak of de actions .
j of the Const’llushong and Gueri icr, eii!— Ye#
I sir, was tho iep|y.
! “Veil jentleiijn, I have some good raisin’!#
I be acquaint vid (Lit dar affur.”
j “Upon what is your knowledge fouadejJ,
' sir ?”
“Jentlem°n, I shall relate to you—im] he sal
Idown.
I vis in one I’utle prig, loaded wid brandy,
■bound fiom Burdeaax lb*de Coast of d'Amesi*