344 THE YOUNG DISCIPLE. "Mother,' she replied, 'you will recollect when I said, 'He is coming! He is coming! I have been thus ever since then.' heard a voice from heaven, as the voice of many waters-and I heard the voice of harpers, harping with their harps.' She smiled, and said, 'That does seem "But what does the Savior do, or does he appear something like it.' to you?' "I see nothing now more than I ever did, except by faith yet it is just as real as sight. He came and looked upon me, and said, "I am willing to make you just as meek as I am-just as patient-just as lovely." Indeed, it seemed that he was present before, only I did not before perceive him. He seemed to have been waiting till I should become perfect enough.' When her attention was drawn to her friends, or other objects, this music ceased to affect her; but so long as her ecstasy continued, whenever she listened, it was still there. It surely seemed that her soul was in communication with 'the powers of the world to come.' "Her allusions to heaven and hell were oppressively awful, sending a thrill through our very frames: and I felt my own soul struggling to bear up under the awe which settled on all present at her words. Yet her words, repeated here, must utterly fail to convey the "Does Christ seem to be thus looking upon you now?' He is in me,' she said with emphasis. I am in him. There is such a connection as I cannot de-idea which they gave from her lips. O they are so scribe. It seems as if the Savior is just here where I am. Indeed, I seem to be within myself,' said she, laying her hand upon her breast, and my words seem to come not from my lips, but from within-here. It is wonderful! O, it is wonderful! I cannot describe it to you.' "Perceiving that she seemed almost unconscious of her outward bodily existence, I repeated the text, Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.' 'That is it,' she instantly exclaimed; that exactly describes what I experience. It seems to me that I can realize a little how three persons exist in one God, though I cannot describe it. I surely seem to be in Christ and he in me.' "I repeated the words of Christ from his last prayer, "That they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me and I in thee; that they also may be one in us.' And again: I in them and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one.' "Her delight at hearing these words of Christ repeated, seemed almost to forbid the utterance. Her joy simply beamed like streams of light from every feature. And she repeated the words of Jesus over, as if she had almost feared that what she was enjoying might have something unreal, till those words of the Bible were recalled to her memory, describing exactly that oneness which she had just said she felt. happy there!' Speaking of heaven-They fly there, they kiss each other, they serve God, they worship the Savior, and'-her mind seemed to travel on amid glories where human speech failed to follow. "But when one directed her thoughts toward hell, the expression of her face seemed to convey more meaning at a flash, than (were it possible) all human language condensed into a single sentence, and she exclaimed, in tones of strange and melancholy sweetness: 'It's awful! It's awful! O, IT IS AWFUL! O, I cannot describe to you how it looks!' "At such times her exhortations to faithfulness were moving beyond description. Tell the teachers in the Sabbath schools to be faithful.' She said to a sister in the Church near her, ‘O you will be faithful! I know you will. You will come soon!' "Ann, how do you now feel for sinners?' "I feel more for them than ever I did in my life. They don't realize their sins-they don't realize their condition. They must realize their condition before they will repent.' "But how can you be so happy, as you say, and yet feel distressed for sinners?' "O,' she replied quickly, 'I am happy in my Savior-I am happy in myself. It is for them only that I feel distressed.' "Can you realize now how the Savior could be perfectly happy himself, and yet feel distressed on account of sinners?' "O, the Savior felt infinitely more for sinners than I do. It is awful to think of. He must of course have felt for them, for he realized their condition more than I can.' Then addressing a friend by her bed-side, for whom Observing her smile and listen eagerly, I asked, she had felt a deep concern, she said, "Are you not 'Ann, what are you thinking of?' "I am trying to hear music-I have heard it for sometime,' and she paused to listen again. I cannot quite get hold of it-possibly it may be imagination.'| "What is it like?' I inquired. "I never heard any thing like it before. At first it was a low, sweet, murmuring sound, or roaring. It seemed now to be more like the sound of a great many coming!' afraid you will lose your soul? Do repent now. Repentance is something which must be done immediately.' "And when her younger brother, whom she had entreated, and for whom she prayed much, promised to give his heart to Christ, she replied, 'O, but you must struggle-you must struggle. You must not think conversion is the end. It is only the beginning. Christians must struggle every day, if they would be with "I repeated from the Revelation of John: "And I Christ.' THE YOUNG DISCIPLE. 345 it clings, with a heavenly tenacity, that employs all the "Ann,' one asked, 'do you have to struggle now?' "O, no! Because my Savior is come-he is with me-he helps me move my head, and every thing. You know, father, I never talked before as I do tonight: not even when I was well-I never used to speak so quick-I never could tell my feelings be- And it can also exclaimfore. A little while ago I could not lift my head as I can now, but the Savior now helps me to do every thing. It don't seem as if I was going to die, only to go to heaven. It's wonderful! it's wonderful! I thought I should grow weaker and weaker, but I feel stronger and stronger. I am as happy as I can be, even if I don't go to heaven.' "Observing her distressed for her brother, one said, 'You must commit him to God, and if you "delight yourself in the Lord," he has promised to give you the desire of your heart.' "Every moment, Lord, I feel And this experience is so uniform, that were thousands on thousands collected in one congregation, to receive, simultaneously, through faith, this great salvation, they would breathe this spirit of perfect reliance on their atoning, redeeming Savior, with a unison as perfect as would be that of a thousand perfect harps, having the same cord struck at once by the same hand. Who can doubt the reality of this experience? On the morning of the day before her death, Ann "I know it,' said she; but then I must be faithful, said, "I was not much disposed to sleep through the and do what I can. Christians must be faithful-night, and God has been teaching me." To her mothangels are faithful-that is what makes them so er—“I think I know some things that you do not now; happy.'" She continued in this frame till about 1 o'clock, ever and anon remarking the beautiful forms she saw, among which the most beautiful was her Savior. Her conceptions of his glory and beauty far surpassed her powers of description. The music continued so enrapturing that she would turn away her head from her friends and listen with the greatest eagerness, and seem interrupted when her attention was called to something else. for through the night God has been teaching me." The following night she suffered greatly from difficult respiration, but would often break out, and sing, “All is well! all is well!" "When her time drew near to depart, she said, Father, how long do you think it will be before I shall be through?' 'Not long, my daughter. Death has already taken place in a part of your system. Is the Savior with you still? Do you feel happy as death approaches?' "Yes, sir,' she replied; but I can't think-what is the reason?' Her father explained to her that the brain, the organ which the mind employs in thought, was yielding to death. 'Yes,' she added; but the soul will continue to think independent of the body for ever.' "When within a few hours of her end, she request After she was, to use her own language, let down again a little from heaven, and the friends had retired, she conversed with Miss E. of the state of the Church, saying, "I cannot see any difference between many of her members and the world; but there will be a great sifting among professors. The Lord will come and discern between the righteous and the wicked." She expressed great pain that Christ should be so dishon-ed her uncle to sing the hymn containing the verseored by his friends. 'When we've been there ten thousand years, She continued much in the same state, save "that her failing strength, and severe paroxysms of pain, for- and being told, and perceiving that she could stay but bade her utterance, and the ecstasy and supernatural light a little while-that she was sinking rapidly—she raised of her countenance were withdrawn"-would often her hands-clapped them together, and shouted so that, speak out of silence, and say, "Faith can triumph over with open doors, she might have been heard through death," and other expressions full of faith and joy. the hall into the street, 'Glory! glory! glory! I'm goAt one time she said, "The blood of Jesus cleansething home!' from all sin." One asked, "Ann, do you feel as though you were cleansed from all sin?" "Yes," she replied; "but I find I can sin yet." "How," she was asked, "do you think you have sinned since you became so happy?" "By forgetting my Savior," she replied; "I thought too much of my cough; but Christ is with me still." What an illustration is this of the "sensibility to sin," and "the pain to feel it near," which attends the sanctified state! The conscience becomes "Quick as the apple of an eye-- In this state the soul, too, has a new and distinct appre- "And when the pangs of dying became insupportable, so that she could not suppress a slight exclamation or groan, she would prolong the groan into singing! Shortly after she joined those who have returned, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads." "IN MEMORY OF MISS ANN THANE PECK. 346 TO THE AUTUMN WIND. THOU melancholy autumn wind, Thou comest unto me, O'erfraught with many a mournful sound, Of dirge-like melody Thou bearest, through the gloomy sky, And chantest a sad requiem For the departing year. The dim old forest's columned aisles Are trembling at thy voice; There happy, bright-winged birds, were wont To carol and rejoice; But now, with summer's balmy airs, Those joyous guests have flown, And through the gloomy solitude "Tis vain for thee to linger thus, The faded summer flowers Their perfumed breath, so sweet and pure, O, cease thy strain, thy haunting strain, Those wild, æolian notes of thine, They seem to say each hope will fade- Original. FAREWELL TO WILLIAM'S GRAVE. ONCE, above thy lowly tomb, Once hath spring, with gentle tread, Now about thy lonely grave Verdant branches softly wave; And, 'mong flowers with long grass twined, Sadly sighs the summer wind. Here, with aching heart and brow, "FORGET ME NOT." -- TO A FRIEND. THERE is a little fragile flower S. C. H. That bends to every passing breeze; No gaudy hue attracts the gaze Of those that pass its humble bed, No odors fill the forest maze By its expanding blossoms shed. Yet dearer is its bending stem And cup of blue that grace the bower, Than many a costly orient gem That blazes in the crown of power. For oft fond friends, when doomed to part, This emblem of sweet constancy. 1 Recalling many a long-loved spot; For distant Scotland and for me, Breathe softly, sweet "Forget me not!" For though no more thou viewest the flower, And hail'st its blossoms opening fair, Yet lovest thou to recall the hour, When we have marked its beauties there! Original. THE MOTHER. BY EDWARD THOMSON. THE MOTHER. 'Tis a name that charms the savage ear-that softens the warrior's heart-it is the sweetest name on earth, save "Jesus." How strong a mother's love! How her eye watches at the cradle of her fading babe; and when it dies, how does her heart plunge! Let an angel tell. I have seen her at the coffin, taking her last farewell-lingering, and kissing the cold clay, and kissing it again, and placing her cheek to its marble brow, and breathing between its livid lips, and refusing to give it up, until torn away by friendly hands; and I have almost prayed that she, too, might die, and follow the bright and beauteous little spirit to heaven. In the circle to which I belonged, when a tenant of the nursery, there were three rosy boys, one younger and one older than myself. The youngest, by a wonderful precocity of intellect, became the central orbthe family favorite. He had a body and soul cast in a superior mold. He was one of nature's little noblemen. In our petty disputes, he was umpire-in our sports, he was president-and on the reception of common presents, he was distributor, always reserving to himself the least share. The poet has said— "The flower that blooms the brightest, Is doomed the first to fade The form that moves the lightest, Thus it was in our family. My eldest brother and I still live; but William-"sweet William"-sleeps in the family vault-across the deep. But how shall I describe the anguish of my mother's heart as she bent over the little sufferer's dying couch? O, God, I cannot! Long after his remains were deposited in the "narrow house," she wept by day, and in visions of the night her spirit entered the paradise of God, and ranged through all its beauties in distress, not caring to see a single rose, or lily, or carnation, until she found her own "sweet William" blooming there. 347 Mother! How many delightful associations cluster around that word!-the innocent smiles of infancy, the gambols of boyhood, and the happiest hours of riper years! When my heart aches at the world's wickedness, and my limbs are weary, and my feet bloody, traveling the thorny path of life, I am accustomed to sit down on some mossy stone, and, closing my eyes on real scenes, to send my spirit back to the days of early life. I rock my cradle, and sing my lullaby, and play with my dormouse, and watch my goldfinch, and catch my rabbits-I walk the streets of my native city, and gaze at the show-windows-I walk around the "walls," and look over the green-I listen to the band, and see the nodding plumes and glittering bayonets of the marshaled host-I hear the shrill bugle, and view the prancing cavalry-I go down to the dockyard and view the shipping-I walk along the sea shore, and gather shells and pretty pebbles to fill my pockets-I dip "poor Tray" in the ebbing tide, and laugh to see him swim-I prattle with my brother, and kiss my sweet sister-I feel afresh my infant joys and sorrows, until my spirit recovers its tone, and is willing to pursue its journey. But in all these refreshing reminiscences my mother rises. If I seat myself upon my cushion, it is at her side-if I sing, it is to her ear-if I walk the walls or the meadows, my little hand is in my mother's, and my little feet keep company with hers-if I stand and listen to the piano, it is because my mother's fingers touch the keys-if I enter the King's Tower, and survey the wonders of creation, it is my mother who points out the objects of my admiring attention-if a hundred cannon pronounce a national salute, I find myself clinging to her knees. When my heart bounds with its best joy, it is because, at the performance of some task, or the recitation of some verses, I receive a present of a tree, or a horse, drawn and painted by a mother's hand. There is no velvet so soft as a mother's lap, no rose so lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as that imprinted with her footsteps. Mother is a name connected with all my useful knowledge. When I trace a pure thought to its infancy, I find it in my mother's arms. When I follow a refreshing channel of truth to its source, I find her, like Moses in Horeb, smiting the rock from which the fountain flows. I trace my earliest religious impressions to my mother's lap. I well recollect the tearful, prayerful anxiety with which she taught me of Jesus, and salvation, and heaven, and the sweet hymns she used to sing at my pillow. If I have a good principle in my How enduring a mother's love! When all other earthly affections are forfeited and withdrawn, a mother's love still burns. When man has hardened his heart, and crimsoned his hands; and when every eye turns from him, and every heart sickens at him, and every man is impatient to have him removed from the earth, of which he has rendered himself unworthy, a mother's footsteps are heard at the door of the dungeon, and a mother's lips bear the burning message to the wretch-mind, or a holy emotion in my heart, I trace it to my ed culprit, that there is yet one heart that can feel for him, and one tongue that can pray for him. I have often thought it was well that Sarah's faith was not tested as Abraham's. I fear that her heart would have burst when Isaac, ascending the mountain, said, "Here is the wood, and there is the knife, but where is the lamb?" There is, perhaps, no passage in the Bible that affords more consolation to the penitent than that in which God's love is represented by a mother. mother. Cherished recollections enshrine our Lord's prayer in my mind, so that infidelity never had power to invade its sanctity. The hymns my mother used to sing come over me like sounds from the upper world. When I hear one I lose my philosophy, and tears unbidden steal down my cheek. I can recollect, when God laid his afflicting hand upon me. Who, then, was first at my pillow in the morning, and last at my couch by night? My mother. If I heard one at the hour Original. MINISTERS' WIVES. ONE of the distinctive features of the religion of the Bible, both under the Jewish and Christian dispensations, as contrasted with every Pagan system, is the marriage of its officiating ministers. It is not my intention here to enter the arena on the question of the celibacy of the clergy, as held by a large body claiming to be the true Church of Jesus Christ. Such a discussion might not be deemed appropriate to the columns of the Repository. It is sufficient here to state, that every system of any importance which man has devised has incorporated this principle as one of its important dogmas, while the only system emanating from Infinite Purity and Wisdom has entirely rejected it. I shall, therefore, assume the propriety of a married clergy as being conceded, and attempt to point out some of the responsibilities of those who share their toils and labors, their joys and sorrows. of midnight carefully open the door, and steal softly over the carpet to my bed-side, and draw aside the curtains gently, as though an angel touched them, I knew who it was; and as she put her head down to my pillow, and whispered, with subdued emotion, "What can I do for you, my dear boy?" my struggling brain radiated a more genial influence over my body, and every little nerve seemed to recover a temporary health; and when my eye was becoming glassy, and my muscles were moving without the will, and my limbs were growing cold, and the silver cord was loosening, and the golden bowl breaking, there was one who could not leave my chamber-whose sunken, sleepless eye, watched over me; and when, at last, physicians had exhausted their resources, and had given me up, there was one who forsook not my pillow, and, as she whispered in my dull ear, "Edward, I have not given thee up-I have yet a remedy, and a blessing from God for thee," the fainting heart beat up new courage, and all the little pulses woke up, and the chilled limbs grew warm, and I yet live-a monument of a mother's love. I have sometimes thought that, should I ever become a lunatic, I should be an idolater, and drawing my mother's image, kneel down before it. Lay me down, (said the poet,) when I die, upon the grass, and let me see the sun. Rather, would I say, lay me down to die where I can see my mother. Let the last sensation, which I feel in the body, be the impression of her lips upon my cheek, and let the last sound my departing spirit hears be the voice of my mother, whispering "Jesus" in my cold ear. Mother, shouldst thou pass to thy rest before me, I'll steal, at midnight, to the cem-clearly seen where her influence has a counteracting etery, and kneeling on thy grassy couch, I'll sing that sweet hymn I first learned from thy lips "There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign." It is a remark no less trite than true, that a minister's wife may increase her husband's usefulness tenfold, or she may destroy it altogether. The true cause of this is to be found in her influence in the social and domestic circle. By a consistent, prudent course of action-the offspring of a devoted piety-she may second all his public labors. She is as really and truly looked up to for an example of all that is good as her companion. And her influence, when directed to the same object, gives an impetus to his exertions which becomes as nearly irresistible as any thing emanating from earth. The truth of this is perhaps more tendency. In nine cases out of every ten where difficulties have arisen between a minister and his people, the original cause may be traced to the imprudence or indiscretion of his companion, in some respect or other. But the great secret of her power, for good or evil, is found in her influence upon his piety. No class in VALUE OF TIME. society, probably, have greater trials to encounter-or NAPOLEON BONAPARTE having one day visited a trials which take such hold upon the very soul-as the school, said to the scholars, on leaving them, "My Christian ministry. The piety of no class of profeslads, every hour of lost time is a chance of future mis-sing Christians is so often and so severely tried, and in fortune." One of his biographers, Bourienne, adds so many different ways, as theirs. They have difficulthat these remarkable words afford the maxim which ties, and trials, and responsibilities to encounter, to formed, in a great degree, the rule of his conduct. which others are entire strangers. And these are of Well did he understand the value of time; even his such a nature as wear most heavily upon all the powers leisure was attended with some exertion of mind. of the heart and soul. Under such circumstances the If this soldier of the world found, as he did, numer-sustaining influence of a wife's piety is great beyond ous advantages resulting from a careful use of time, should not the Christian soldier obey the injunction of his Master-" Redeem the time?" SCOLDING. I NEVER knew a scolding person that was able to govern a family. What makes people scold? Because they cannot govern themselves. How, then, can they govern others? Those who govern well are generally calm. They are prompt and resolute, but steady and mild. conception. As he retires from her presence to his study and his closet, her influence is seen in strengthened faith and encouraged hopes-or in increased depression and discouragement. This secret influence necessarily accompanies him into the pulpit, and consequently exerts a tremendous power in increasing or diminishing the salutary influence of his public labors. And the same silent and secret, but no less real power accompanies him in the performance of the more private duties of the ministerial office. If entire consecration to the work of Christ be the true secret of ministerial success, then whatever affects a minister's piety |