He was so

conducted family prayers, he read the burial service. much affected that he could scarcely proceed, and Mrs. D. asked him if she should go on for him. He, however, declined, and went through it himself. All the family were weeping, but had no idea how soon one of the members of it would have the same service read over him. This day week was the first time the medical men told his poor wife he was in danger. On Sunday he was almost given up, but was supported with wine, of which he took large quantities from that day until his death. Special prayer-meetings were held for his recovery, if it might be the will of God to be gracious and restore the hearts of those who met here indeed bowed down with grief. Just as they were about to meet on Wednesday evening for the same purpose, tidings arrived that his happy spirit had fled. The deep feeling of grief that pervades all who knew anything about him is universal, as well as sympathy for the poor widow and fatherless children. He is to be buried at the cemetery on Monday morning. A great many of the magistrates, and most respectable individuals in the city have signified their intention to be present at the funeral. Never since I came to York has such a sensation been produced by the death of a single individual. I trust the event may be sanctified to us, and that a portion of his spirit may rest upon us who are left behind.'

From the letter of another intimate friend of the deceased, of about the same date, I extract the following:

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You will probably, ere this reaches you, have heard of the death of our friend Dibb, after an illness of a few days in typhus fever. His death has occasioned me the most poignant anguish on account of his family, and the irreparable loss to the cause of religion in York. It is difficult indeed to find those who will care as he did for the cause of Christ, and "in season, out of season," use such exertions for the furthering of the gospel. I have lately had several letters from Mr. Dibb, all of which evince much advance in spiritual things. One was peculiarly valuable. In it he says,

'I feel it is comparatively an easy thing to be active in the outward duties of the Christian life, but to keep alive the inward principle of love to Christ, and zeal for the glory of God, is a more difficult attainment.'

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The rest of the sentiments are most truly experimental and Christian. Well, he is gone before us. Another instance of the sovereignty of God. He now, I assuredly believe, rests with his Saviour, to meet us again at the great day. May this event quicken our faith and increase our diligence.'

In a letter of a later date the same friend says with regard to him— 'He was a plain, useful man; exerting himself for the glory of his Redeemer in his allotted sphere, and in that respect affording an example that all may follow. There were in him also many ripening graces, such as meekness, and especially Christian liberality.'

A single extract from another intimate friend of more recent date shall conclude the series. It is as follows;

Time has cooled down the momentary excitement which the death of my much-esteemed and highly-valued friend Dibb produced in York generally; but every day affords fresh evidence that the Church of God has lost an invaluable member. His removal was so very sud

den and unexpected, that for some days we could not realize it; and it was not until we had to elect a successor to the many offices which his death has rendered vacant, that we began to feel our real loss.' He was an extraordinary character. He was capable of effecting a great amount of good without any display. He did what would have afforded twenty nominal Christians ground for saying, "Stand by thyself, I am holier than thou," and yet I never heard an expression escape his lips which savoured of such a spirit. His heart was in the work of the Lord, and he sought not the applause of his fellowmen. He was like-minded with his Master, and like him, " he went about doing good." I knew Dibb thoroughly. I knew Dibb thoroughly. Well do I remember the daily self-denial of my dear friend, and know what he did. If God spare me half a century, I scarce expect to see his like again.' I trust that these testimonies from so many sources, public as well as private, will abundantly confirm the general tenour of what I have already stated, with regard to my departed friend. Perhaps there is scarcely a point on which I have touched which is not either noticed or implied in one or other of these extracts. From them also we learn, that he was engaged in the same unwearied course of well-doing, when the season of illness and the hour of death so unexpectedly arrived. He was emphatically one of those servants whom his Lord, when he “came suddenly," "found watching." The sentence, "Come up hither," welcomed him from the labours of the Church militant on earth, to the glorious company which constitute the Church triumphant in heaven. Like that blessed Saviour, who "" went not up to joy, but first he suffered pain, and entered not into his glory before he was crucified," he had to pass through "much tribulation," on the road to the kingdom of God." "But he has now 66 come out of great tribulation, and has washed his robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." He has entered in through the gates into the city of life," whence "he shall go no more out, but shall be as a pillar in the temple of his God " throughout eternity. He has joined the general assembly and church of the first-born which are written in heaven," and gained access to the presence of "an innumerable company of angels, and of God the Judge of all, and Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant; " and amidst "the spirits of just men made perfect," he exults in the presence of that Saviour, "whom to know," was "all his salvation, and all his desire."

An appropriate monument raised as an affectionate Memorial by his Christian friends, points out the earthly resting-place of his mortal remains, until the morning of the resurrection. And whilst it reminds us that "his record is on high," cheers us with the anticipation of that day "when Christ who is our life shall appear, and we also shall appear with him in glory; exhorting us at the same time, from the bright example thus placed before us, to "be not slothful, but followers of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises." THOMAS A. SCOTT.

Lincoln, June 10, 1843.

THE ARCH OF TITUS.

"Those that be near, and those that be far from thee, shall mock thee, which art infamous and much vexed."-Ezek. xxii. 5.

O TIME! whose wintry hand

Hath spared nor columned fame, nor sculptured stone,
But all that flourished erst of Rome, hath strewn
Like leaves upon the sand,-.

Had'st thou no heart to pity Israel's woe,

And in the victor's dust lay his poor captive low?

How did each marble fame,

Upreared to demons, deprecate thy scythe,
And, like a heel-crush'd snake, convulsive writhe,
But writhe in vain!

Thou did'st thine office-and they prostrate lie,
Or raise their broken crests to flaunt the evening sky.

Suppliant they prayed to stand,

As erst they stood, when Rome was in her pride;
The trophies of her glory at her side,

Her sceptre in her hand

But thou to dogs the spoils of worlds hast thrown,

And mock'st man's search to know, where nothing can be known!

While this proud arch, that rears

Its well-form'd limbs in pristine loveliness,
Thou spar'st, amid the marble wilderness,
To point at Judah's tears,

And mock her fettered form, slow sweeping by,
With veiled horn of pride beneath the conqueror's eye.

The streams of ages flow,

And still the victor-train in stately march,
With prancing coursers, threads the marble arch,
And still the captives go,

Bearing on high the seven-branched lamp divine,
And all that Žion graced-the joy of PALESTINE.

Where is the hand that sealed

Death to the king on Babel's blazing wall,
When with the sacred spoils he graced his hall,
His insolence his shield,

And met the judge?-yet thou, presumptuous Rome!
Hast wrought Belshazzar's sin without Belshazzar's doom.

Doth God then cease to care,

Tho' men the temple of His love profane,
Weighing His precious things as worldly gain,—
And, in their madness, dare

Go where, 'mid cherubs veiled, He deigns abide;
Entering unscathed that hall, where erst who entered died?

Hath He the earth forsworn,

And left his straying flock their way to go,
Themselves to please, where pleasure is but woe;

Objects of Satan's scorn

Reckless, tho' heathens tread His glory down,

Play with His slumbering bolt, and bask beneath His frown?