hearing, or understanding; only a secret hope and faith I had in my God, whom I had served, that he would bring me through it, and to the end of it, and that I should again see the day of my redemption from under it all; this quieted my soul in its greatest tribulation." He concludes his confession with these words : "He who hath saved my soul from death, who hath lifted my feet up out of the pit, even to Him be glory for ever; and let every troubled soul trust in Ilim, for his mercy endureth for ever!" Among his papers, written soon after his release, is a remarkable prayer, or rather thanksgiving. The limit I have prescribed to myself will only allow me to to copy an extract. "It is in my heart to praise Thee, O my God! let me never forget Thee, what Thou hast been to me in the night, by Thy presence in my hour of trial, when I was beset in darkness, when I was cast out as a wandering bird; when I was assaulted with strong temptations, then Thy presence, in secret, did preserve me; and in a low state I felt Thee near me: when my way was through the sea, when I passed under the mountains, there wast Thou present with me; when the weight of the hills was upon me, Thou upheldest me. Thou didst fight, on my part, when I wrestled with death; when darkness would have shut me up, Thy light shone about me; when my work was in the furnace, and I passed through the fire, by Thee I was not consumed. When I beheld the dreadful visions, and was among the fiery spirits, Thy faith staid me, else through fear I had fallen. I saw Thee, and believed, so that the enemy could not prevail." After speaking of his humiliation and sufferings, which Divine Mercy had overuled for his spiritual good, he thus concludes: "Thou didst lift me out from the pit, and set me forth in the sight of my enemies; Thou calledst my acquaintances near me; they to whom I had been a wonder, looked upon me; and in Thy love I obtained favour with those who had deserted me. Then did gladness swallow up sorrow, and I forsook my troubles; and I said, How good is it that man be proved in the night, that he may know his folly, that every mouth may become silent, until Thou makest man known unto himself, and hast slain the boaster, and shown him the vanity which vexeth Thy spirit." All honour to the Quakers of that day, that at the risk of misrepresentation and calumny, they received back to their communion, their greatly erring, but deeply repentant, brother. His life, ever after, was one of self-denial and jealous watchfulness over himself, blameless and beautiful in its humility and lowly charity. Thomas Ellwood, in his autobiography for the year 1659, mentions Nayler, whom he met in company with Edward Burrough at the house of Milton's friend, Pennington. Ellwood's father held a discourse with the two Quakers on their doctrine of free and universal grace. "James Nailer," says Ellwood, "handled the subject with so much perspicuity and clear de. monstration, that his reasoning seemed to be irresistible. As for Edward Burrough, he was a brisk young Man, of a ready Tongue, and might have been for aught I knew a Scholar, which made me less admire his Way of Reasoning. But what dropt from James Nailer had the greater Force upon me, because he lookt like a simple Countryman, having the appearance of an Husbandman or Shepherd." In the latter part of the Eighth Month, 1660, he left London, on foot, to visit his wife and children in Wakefield. As he journeyed on, the sense of a solemn change about to take place, seemed with him; the shadow of the eternal world fell over him. As he passed through Huntingdon, a friend who saw him describes him as "in an awful and weighty frame of mind, as if he had been redeemed from earth, and a stranger on it, seeking a better home and inheritance." A few miles beyond the town, he was found in the dusk of the evening, very ill, and was taken to the house of a friend, who lived not far distant. He died shortly after, expressing his gratitude for the kindness of his attendants, and invoking blessings upon them. About two hours before his death, he spoke to the friend at his bedside these remarkable words, solemn as eternity and beautiful as the love which fills it: "There is a spirit which I feel which delights to do no evil, nor to avenge any wrong; but delights to endure all things, in hope to enjoy its own in the end; its hope is to outlive all wrath and contention, and to weary out all exultation and cruelty, or whatever is of a nature contrary to itself. It sees to the end of all temptations; as it bears no evil in itself, so it conceives none in thought to any other if it be betrayed, it bears it, for its ground and spring is the mercy and forgiveness of God. Its crown is meekness; its life is everlasting love unfeigned; it takes its kingdom with entreaty, and not with contention, and keeps it by lowliness of mind. In God alone it can rejoice, though none else regard it, or can own its life. It is conceived in sorrow, and brought forth with none to pity it; nor doth it murmur at grief and oppression. It never rejoiceth but through sufferings, for with the world's joy it is murdered. I found it alone, being forsaken. I have fellowship therein with them who lived in dens and desolate places of the earth, who through death obtained resurrection and eternal Holy Life." So died James Nayler. He was buried in "Thomas Parnell's burying-ground, at King's Rippon," in a green nook of rural England. Wrong and violence, and temptation and sorrow, and evil-speaking, could reach him no more. And in taking leave of him, let us say with old Joseph Wyeth, where he touches upon this case in his Anguis Flagellatus: "Let none insult, but take heed lest they also, in the hour of their temptation, do fall away." J. G. WHITTIER. DUTY! the star to every wandering barque, Che Neglected Call. WHEN the fields were white with harvest, and the labourers were few, Heard I thus a voice within me, "here is work for thee to do; But the wily Tempter queried, "ere thy substance be unspent? "Hast thou need to toil and labour? art thou fitted for the work? Many a hidden stone to bruise thee, in the harvest field doth lurk; There are others called beside thee-and perchance the voice may be, But thy own delusive fancy, which thou hearest calling theeThere is time enough before thee, all thy footsteps to retrace;" Then I yielded to the Tempter-and the angel veiled her face. Pleasure beckoned in the distance, and her syren song was sweet, "Through a thornless path of flowers, gently I will guide thy feet; Youth is as a rapid river, gliding noiselessly away, 252 THE NEGLECTed Call. Earth is but a pleasant garden; cull its roses whilst thou may; Press the juice from purple clusters, fill life's chalice with the wine, Taste the fairest fruits which tempt thee, all its richest fruits are thine." Ah! the path was smooth and easy-but a snare was set therein, "Oh! my Father," cried I inly, "Thou hast striven-I have willed, But the still small voice within me, earnest in its truth and deep, reap; God is just, and retribution follows each neglected call; Thou hadst thy appointed duty taught thee by the Lord of all, Go not hence to glean, but tarry from the morning until night, H. LLOYD. |