relate, for you never saw, and can never imagine, any thing like it. I thought that I was walking in the wide street of a city, many people were walking there, besides myself; but there was something in their air that immediately struck me. They seemed thoughtful and cheerful, neither occupied with business nor with gaiety, but having about them such dignity of repose, such high and settled purpose, such peace and such purity, as never were stamped upon mortal brow. The light of the city was also strange it was not the sun, for there was nothing to dazzle; it was not the moon, for all was clear as day. It seemed an atmosphere of light; calm, lovely, and changeless. As I looked at the building, they seemed all palaces, but not like the palaces of earth. The pavement that I walked on, and the houses that I saw, were all alike of gold, bright and shining, and clear as glass. The large and glittering window seemed like divided rainbows, and were made to give and transmit light-only the light of gladness. It was, indeed, a place to which hope might lead; where charity might dwell, I could not help crying out, as I walked along, 'surely these are the habitations of righteousness and truth:' all was beauty, brightness and perfection. I could not tell what was wanting to make me wish for an eternity in such a scene, and yet its very purity oppressed me; I saw nothing congenial, though looks of kindness met me in every face of that happy throng. I felt nothing responsive; I returned in silence their friendly greetings, and walked on, oppressed and sad. I saw that they all went one way, and I followed, wondering at the reason; and at length I saw them all cross over to a building, much finer and larger than the rest; I saw them ascend its massive steps, and enter beneath its ample porch. I felt no desire to go with them, but so far as the foot of the steps I approached from curiosity. I saw persons enter, who were dressed in every varied colour, and all the costumes of all nations, but they disappeared within the porch, and then I saw them cross the hall. It was not marble, it was not gold; but light, pure light, consolidated into form. It was the moon, without her coldness; it was the sun, without his dazzling ray: and within was a staircase, mounting upwards, all of light; and I saw it touched by the feet and white spotless garments of those who ascended. It was, indeed, passing fair, but it made me shudder, and turn away. As I turned, I saw one upon the lower step, looking at me with an interest so intense, and a manner so anxious, that I stopped to hear what he had to say. Hs asked me, in a voice like liquid music, 'Why do you turn away? Is there peace else

where? Is there pleasure in the works of darkness?' I stood in silence; he pressed me to enter, but I neither answered nor moved. Suddenly he disappeared, and another took his place, with the same look, and with the same manner. I wished to avoid him, but I seemed rivetted to the spot. 'Art thou come so far?' said he; wilt thou lose thy labour? Put off thine own garments, and take the white livery.' Here he continued to press me, till I got weary and angry, and said, 'I will not enter; I do not like your livery, and I am oppressed with your whiteness.' He sighed, and was gone. Many passed by me; looked at me with mingled pity and kindness, and pressed me to follow on with them, and offered me a hand up the steps which led to their mysterious change; but I rejected them all, and stood melancholy and disturbed. One young bright messenger, stationed on the steps, came up to me, and entreated me to enter, with a voice and manner I could not resist. Do you turn,' he said; 'where canst thou go? Do not linger, for why shouldst thou weary thyself for naught ?-enter here, and taste of happiness. Do not all go in? Are any rejected? Do not all tribes, and all colours, press into that hall? Are they not washed, and clothed, and comforted?' He gave me his hand, and I entered the hall along with him. Here I was sprinkled with pure water, and a garment of pure white was put upon my shoulders; and, I know not how, but I mounted the bright stairs by the side of my happy guide. Oh! what a sight burst upon me, when I had reached their summit! But mortal words cannot describe, nor mortal fancy in any way conceive. Where are the living sapphires, where are the glittering stars, that are like the bright audience in which I stood? Where are the forms of ether, or the looks of love, that breathed in the innumerable company that moved around me? I sunk down, overpowered and wretched. I crept into a corner, and tried to hide myself, for I saw that I had nothing in unison with the blessed residents of such a place. They were moving in a dance to the music, to the harmony of song that never fell upon mortal ear. My guide joined, in a rapture, and I was left alone. I saw the tall forms, all fair and brilliant, in their own ineffable felicity: their songs, and looks of gratitude, formed the countenances and differences of each. At length I saw one taller than the rest, and every way more fair, more dazzling, more awful, surpassing far what yet surpasses thought; and to him each eye was turned, and in his face each face was brightened. The song and the dance were in his hon our; and all seemed to drink from him their life and joy. As I

gazed, in speechless and trembling amazement, one, who saw me, left the company, and came to where I stood. Why,' he asked me, art thou so silent? Come quickly, and unite in the dance, and join in the song.' I felt sudden anger in my heart, and I answered with sharpness, 'I will not join in your song, for I do not know the tune; I will not join the dance, for I do not know the measure.' He sighed, and, with a look of most humiliating pity, resumed his place. About a minute after, another came, and addressed me as the other had done. With the same temper and words, I answered him. He looked as if he could have resigned his own dazzling glory to have changed with me. If heaven can know anguish, he seemed to feel it: but he left me, and retired. What could it be that put such tempers into my heart? At length, the Lord of that glorious company, of those glittering forms of life, and light, and beauty; of those songs of harmony, and those shouts of triumph and of joy, he saw me, and came up to speak. My every pulse was thrilled with awe; I felt my blood curdle, and the flesh upon me tremble through its pores; and yet my heart grew harder, and my voice was bold. He spoke, and deep-toned music seemed to issue from his lips. 'Why sittest thou so still, and all around thee glad? Come, join the dance, for I have triumphed! Come, join the song, for now my people reign Love, ineffable, unutterable, seemed to beam upon me, as though it could have melted a heart of stone. I felt it, but melted not. I gazed one instant, and said, 'I will not join the dance, for I do not know the measure; I will not join the song, for I do not know the tune.' Creation would have fled at the change of his countenance: his glance was lightning; and, in a voice louder than ten thousand thunders, he said to me then, What dost thou here?' The floor beneath me opened, the earth quaked, and I sank into flames and torments; and with the fright I awoke." There was a momentary silence, for the sisters were shocked and distressed at the dream; and neither of them thought it the effects of a natural cause. "Anna," they said, "we cannot wish to help you to forget such a dream as this; we surely believe it is from God; and it may be greatly blessed to you, if you will permit it to be so. Your description of the holy city may be an impression from much the same description in the Revelation. The city has no need of the sun nor the moon, for the temple of God is there, and the Lamb is the light thereof. All who enter must put off their own garments; namely, their unrighteousness, and must be clothed in linen, elean and white, even the righteousness of the saints; and their

righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.' Those who walk in the heavenly temple are they who have come through great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb; and they cease not praising God day and night, and they sing a new song, even a song which none know but those who are redeemed. 'It is the song of Moses and the Lamb.' Wisdom waites daily at the steps, to call the sons of men into that temple, and the people of God try to persuade their fellows to tread in their steps, and the ministers are appointed to watch for souls in every way, and, by every means, to persuade men, and to try and save them. Oh! Anna, you know something of the way: do lay down your own will, and hearken to this fearful warning. Join us, and learn the steps that lead to heaven, and how to sing the song of praise." Anna's brow darkened, and she answered, "I do not want you to preach to me; I shall do as I please." She continued in this melancholy state to the end of the week, and was found in her room a corpse!! None knew the cause of her death; she died without disease, and without spiritual change.

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THE ACTUAL MISSIONS OF THE CHURCH OF

ENGLAND.

We have before us two documents, each interesting in itself, but still more interesting when brought into comparison with one another.

The one is the first account of the proceedings of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, published in the year 1703; the other is a summary account of the same Society, from the year of its establishment, in 1701 to 1703, the other gives an outline of its operations for the year 1846.

We are anxious to call attention to these two documents, because we are convinced that the ignorance which was recently complained of by the Rev. Dr. Hinds, as existing in Ireland respecting this great institution, prevails to a great extent even among attached Churchmen in England.

"The Society," said Dr. Hinds on a recent occasion, "is not known-is not understood. There is much misconception of its character and objects, and much more of total ignorance of its existence; and strange as the asser

tion may sound, I believe that its not being generally known is owing to the very magnitude of the objects which it is accomplishing. The vast results which are flowing from the operation of this Society force themselves on the notice of all persons, but these results appear so disproportionate to the power and resources of a quiet voluntary association, that few persons think of looking to such a quarter for the origin of them. Every body hears or reads of complete Church Establishments, including bishops, archdeacons, a staff of clergy, churches, schools, in Calcutta, Madras, Jamaica, Barbadoes, Canada, New Zealand-throughout the wide range of our Colonial possessions; but if the question occurs, how came all these institutions into existence? the reply which suggests itself is, "I suppose the British Government formed them I suppose the people in these settlements did it." Results so vast and momentous lead away public attention from a voluntary association as the origin and prime mover. It is impossible that any one can be ignorant of the immense stream of emigration which is annually pouring from the shores of Great Britain, Scotland, and Ireland to distant lands. And I suppose no member of our Church who thinks at all on the subject, thinks that these emigrants go out to a life of heathenism-that they abandon the religion as well as the home of their fathers. But what is to hinder this being the case? Emigrants in a new settlement have generally no more than enough means to provide for their bodily wants and existence, Necessity is the cause of emigration. Who then cares for the spiritual welfare of these men! What is the channel through which the provision comes to the members of our Church? People not informed of the actual state of the case, attribute it to Government, to some vague resources in these settlements.-They do not naturally connect with a private body of men, deriving their resources from voluntary contributions, a sphere of operations co-extensive with that of the Colonial Office, and with the Colonial empire of Great Britain. Most persons know, in like manner, that we have a vigorous sister Church in the United States of America. But ask nine persons out of ten how came it there, under divine Providence? Who planted it? Who nursed its feebleness and infancy? The reply will probably be, "I