you dread for yourself and your children, but the want of protection. You have seen enough of the world to know, how selfishness prevails over benevolence, and how little disinterestedness is to be expected from that multitude, in which are to be found so many who oppress the weak, and so many more that neglect the friendless. A thousand fears of insult and injuries rise in your perturbed mind. and you feel as if the tear of the widow, and the cry of the fatherless, will have little power to interest the busy, and to melt the iron heart of the unjust. Already, perhaps, you think you have received significant hints, not to be mistaken, even from the friends of your husband, that your expectations, even of counsel and advice, much more of other kinds of assistance, must be very limited. It is possible, however, that sorrow, solitude, and dependance, may have produced a sensitiveness on this subject, which makes you more suspicious and mistrustful, than you have need to be, and that after all, there is a larger portion of sympathy and generous intention, than you may be led to suppose.

To the widow of the departed Christian, there is another ingredient in the cup of her sorrow, another aggravation of the loss she has sustained, and that is, she is deprived of her own spiritual comforter and companion; and if she be a mother, of the religious instructor and guide of her children. He that was at once the king, the prophet, and the priest of the little domestic community, is removed. How ten

derly did he solve her doubts, relieve her perplexities, and comfort her in her sorrows. How sweet was it to take counsel with him on the things of another world, and to walk to the house of GOD in company What sabbaths they spent, and what sacramentai seasons they enjoyed together. And then his nightly and morning sacrifice at the domestic altar; his fervent prayers, and his pious breathings for his family but that tongue is now silent in the grave; those holy hands are now no more lifted up to bless the household; that mild sceptre of paternal rule has dropped. Even he, good man, felt a dread and a trembling that sometimes almost overcame his faith and trust, as he lay upon his death bed, and anticipated the hour when he should leave his children amidst the snares and temptations of this dangerous world. I do not wonder that you, his sad survivor, should feel your great responsibility, as you look round on the bereaved circle, and remember that these young immortals are left to your sole guidance and guardianship. Often you say, as the tears roll down your cheeks, "It is not merely, nor chiefly, the the care of their bodies, nor the culture of their minds, that makes me feel my sad privation, but the interests of their souls. I could eat my bread, if it were only bread, and drink my cup of cold water, and deal out bread and water to them with tolerable com posure, if I could well discharge the duty I owe to their souls, and see them following their sainted parent to the skies: but oh! the thought that my boys have

lost a father to guide them along the slippery paus of youth, and form their character for time and eternity too; and that at a season when his instructive example, and advice was most needed; this is the wormwood and gall of a widow's cup."

Afflicted woman, if sympathy be a balm for the wounds of your lacerated heart, you have it. Bad as human nature is, it is not so entirely bereft of the whatsoever things are lovely, as not to condole with you. It is not yours to reproach, in the language of holy writ, the insensibility of a whole generation, and say, "Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by: come see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, wherewith the Lord has afflicted me." This little volume, at any rate, comes to you as a comforter and a counsellor. One individual has thought upon you; and as a minister of him, who wept at the grave of Lazarus, and who restored to the widow of Nain, her son, when she was following him with a heart half broken to the grave, he comes with more than human sympathy, and earthly consolation. It is balm from heaven he brings, and a divine medicine for your sick and sorrowful heart. It is Christianity, in the person of one of its ministers that presents the cup of peace. O turn not away from it, nor refuse to be comforted. Hush then, the clamor of tumultuous thoughts; calm the perturbations of your troubled spirit; for the voice of the Comforter can be heard only in the silence of submission. Yes, even your grief is susceptible of alleviation. I can

not break open the tomb to undo the work of leath, and re-animate and restore the dust which lies sleeping there: I cannot replace by your side the dear companion that has been torn from it: but I can suggest topics, which, if you can sufficiently control your feelings to ponder them, are of such a nature, so soothing and sustaining, that they will pluck the sting from your affliction, and enable you by God's grace, to bear up with fortitude under a load, which would otherwise crush you to the earth. I am anxious at once to possess you with the idea, that you ought not to be, and need not be inconsolable. Tenderly as I feel for you, and anxious as I am not to handle roughly the wounds which have been inflicted upon your peace, still I must remind you that yon are not authorised to indulge yourself in an unlimited liberty of grief; nor to justify such an excess, by affirming that you do well to be sorrowful even unto death. I beseech you then to obtain leave of vour agitated heart, to listen to the gracious words of Him of whom it is so beautifully said, "He comforteth those that are cast down." In his name 1 speak to you; and I speak of that wnich I have tasted, and felt of the Word of God. I too have been afflicted like yourself, and have known, not by observation merely, but by experience, what a desolation and blank one single death can make in the garden of earthly joys: and where in that hour of dreariness and woe, the lonely spirit may find a refuge and a home.

CHAPTER II.

SUBMISSION.

"BE still, and know that I am GOD." Such is the admonition which comes to you; and which comes from heaven. It is GOD himself that has bereaved you, through whatever second causes he has inflicted the blow. Not even a sparrow falleth to the ground without his knowledge, much less a rational and immortal creature. He has the keys

of death, and never for a moment trusts them out of his hand the door of the sepulchre is never unlocked but by himself. Though men die and drop as unheeded by many as the fall of the autumnal leaf in the pathless desert, they die not by chance. Every instance of mortality, that for example which has reduced you to your present sorrowful condition, is a separate decision of infinite wisdom. Whether therefore the death of your husband was slow or sudden; at home or abroad; by accident or disease; it was appointed, and all its circumstances arranged by GOD. "Be still, therefore, and know that he is GOD who doeth his will among the armies of heaven, and the inhabitants of the earth, nor allows any one