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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*