tion, and in agony he cried out, whilst he rolled himself on his bed, like one distracted, "O God! O my Lord! what shall I do?" But it was evident that his convictions were something like those of Simon Magus. He was afraid, but had no sense whatever of the greatness of his sins. He even sent for me twice, and on those occasions he manifested a strong desire that I should pray by him, and showed a disposition to listen to the word of God; but such feel. ings were only momentary: the Evil Spirit seemed to have supreme power over him, and infidelity lay at the root of his heart! He had not given me any reason to suppose that he was an infidel. I discovered it from the following circumstance, which occurred during my last visit to him-his last day upon earth. He appeared more attentive this day than usual to what I said, and having talked to him for some time on the necessity of believing in the atonement made by Jesus on Calvary; and perceiving that he seemed affected with what I had advanced, I asked him if I should pray by him, to which he replied, "If you please." When I arose from my knees he cried out, seemingly with great concern and bitterness of soul," O Lord! how shall I overcome the difficulty which is in my way to believe in svch a manner that I might be saved ?" I asked him what that difficulty was; on which he looked very wild, and hesitated. I then said, Do you believe the Bible to be the word of God? At this he looked at me in such a manner as I shall never forget, and shaking his head, he made an effort to sum up all his remaining strength, and then cried out, as if in despair, "No! No! not all of it!" This effort caused his pain to return, and they were of so violent a nature that the shrieks which they drew forth from him were most alarming to the neighbours, and almost overpowering in their effect too upon those who were in the room with him. Such was the case every fifteen or twenty minutes, and yet the moment those pains ceased he would (in my absence) ask for a Newspaper. I have been told by his niece, a pious woman, who attended on him, that on the preceding evening, when she attempted to remove a Newspaper from his bed and substitute a Bible in its stead, he offered to strike her. She added that he was in the habit of mocking at those among his relatives who read the Bible, or went to Church, and that he had been repeatedly warned that he would die a miserable death? I may truly say that I never beheld a man sunk to such a depth of misery, wretchedness, and despair, as in the case before me. To-day calling at the house where Mr. N. resided I was surprised to find it full of company, and from their voices I was led to judge that they were feasting and merry making To my great astonishment I was soon informed that N. was no more. I learnt the joyful company before me were the funeral guests. The awful picture of poor Mr. N's misery was so fresh in my memory that I was much struck with the great contrast which I saw exhibited before my eyes. The niece above mentioned came up to me, and asked me to walk into another room, and there she told me how Mr. N. died. His last moments appear even to have been worse than could have been anticipated. Some time before he expired he calied her up to him, to stand by him, and would scarcely suffer her to leave him, saying, "The Lord is throwing fire at me." About an hour ere he expired he asked to be assisted out of his bed. He then attempted to kneel and pray, but the words which he uttered were not those of prayer, but that of conscious misery and despairand thus he died. Having listened to this awful detail I went amongst the company who were drinking, and told them what I knew of the sufferings and death of Mr. N. and pointed out to them the danger to which they are thus exposed in thus treating with contempt the judgments of God. Gradually the company gathered around me, one by one, until I had them all silently listening to me, about thirty or thirty-five in number, and they bore with me while I spoke to them npwards of an hour, during which time many tears were shed, and ihe house, which a short time ago had resounded with loose and wordly conversation, was changed into what it ought to have beer, a "house of mourning." Every thing was as silent as the grave except now and then disturbed by the groans of those who were convinced of their folly in having designed to turn that hour to the service of Satan which they ought to have been devoting to the glory of God. Before I left the house every one present promis ed that instead of spending the day as they intended, they would take the Bible, and read verse by verse those chapters I pointed out to them, which I pray the Lord may bless to their souls. An Hour spent at Newgate "I HAD more than once enjoyed the sweet yet sad privi lege of visiting Newgate, and being present when Mrs. Fry, and the ladies who form her committee, and attend there in order to give religious instructions, to the wretched inmates of the prison, every Friday at eleven o'clock. Sometimes, by the desire of the ladies, I had myself addressed a few words of comfort and encouragement to the unhappy victims assembled there. "Wishing to afford my wife, and a friend of hers, the gratification of witnessing one of these interesting meetings, and of hearing and seeing Mrs. Fry, I conducted them to Newgate. The heavy gates were opened to us, and we were the first to arrive in the upper apartment, which is a kind of sanctuary in that abode of misery. Soon, however, so considerable a concourse of persons had assembled that we could not but think that some extraordinary circumstance had brought them together. I found that a vessel of convicts was to sail in two days for New South Wales, and that it was to bear away eighty of those prisoners, who would on that day attend the religious exercises of the prison for the last time. "All these poor women, young and old, clad in the blue dress of the prison, having taken their places, Mrs. Fry made her appearance. The peace, the good will, and the christian love with which her heart is filled shines forth in her noble countenance, the expression of which is not disturbed by the cares and tron bles incident to an advanced period of life. The dress of the sect to which she belongs, harmonizes with her simplicity of mind and manner. The clean muslin cap, quite unadorned, sets off her forehead, and shows a small pot tion of her fair hair, which age has begun to touch with its silvery hue, Even the large and sober folds of her grey shawl falling from her shoulders, suited her tall figure and her calm and majestic deportment, and was perfect unison with the whole. "After a few minutes of profound silence, Mrs. Fry read the third chapter of St. Paul's epistle to the Colossians. Those who have heard Mrs. Fry read the scrip tures agree in thinking that few persons have so peculiar a gift of setting forth the meaning, and making thos who hear her feel the beauties of the Holy Bible, by simply reading it. "She says things rather then reads them, and every word coming from her heart, goes to the heart of her hearers. When the chapter is finished, she either adds a few remarks, or leaves her auditors to their own reflec tions, according as she feels moved. We know that in things of religion, quakers act only from the inspiration of the moment. This principle might afford matter for objection. But at the moment of which I am speaking, Mrs. Fry disarmed all criticism, and I thought only of feeling and enjoying the scene before me. The last verse of the chapter, where it is written that God is no respector of persons, furnished her with a most touching application, humbling towards that portion of the party present who were among the free, and the happy, and the well dressed, and comforting towards those unfortunate beings, who were mourning within the prison bars of Newgate, and who in two days were to be crowded together in a convict ship. How she sought to carry to the depths of their afflicted and humbled hearts, the conviction of the divine love of the Saviour, who descends to the very lowest step of the social and moral ladder, to fetch from thence the greatest sinner, that by faith he may exalt him to an equality with all other men, nay, infinitely higher than the greatest among men, who do not see their greatness in God! How soothingly she brought before them the assurance, that though they had brought upon themselves the ruin of their earthly career, in the eyes of men, in the sight of God, they might all of them open their hearts to hope, and peace, and happiness. "He is no respecter of persons," she repeated, we are here assembled before God; let us not imagine that His eye distinguishes between free persons honoured by men, and poor prisoners! All are sinners before Him, all must go to the same source to obtain peace and happiness. "Seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God." As she proceeded in her remarks, a striking change was evident in the countenances of the wretched women. Some, who upon entering the room, wore that bold and hardened look so common to those accustomed to crime, and who, even the sentence of their condemnation cannot bend, gradually became serious and humble; those whose wounded pride alone appeared to suffer from their situations, evidently showed that their grief was changing its character, while the conviction dawned upon their minds, that there was for them a responsibility, and a hope which referred to a far higher tribunal than that of mere human justice, and a privilege to regain which was not founded upon vanity; there were others again, from whose downcast looks it appeared that the inward and painful work of repentance was going on in their hearts, and who were evidently retained by those tears which flowed at those words of consolation and peace. of "To encourage them still more, Mrs. Fry related a tonching circumstance, shewing the power of the grace of God upon one who had been in the same situation as themselves; and thus, proving that God is indeed no respecter persons. "Before we part," she continued, "I canLot help telling you something which happened to myself, aud which has very much affected me, and filled me with gratitude towards God. I was returning from Brighton yesterday in the stage coach. There was a woman seated in the further corner, upon whom my presence appeared to make a deep impression. She was silent for some little time, but was evidently deeply affected. Presently she held out her hand to me, without, however, speaking. I thought I remembered having seen her face before; I took her hand, and asked her name," Mrs. Fry!" she said weeping, "Mrs. Fry, ...... seventeen years ago in Newgate ..... She could say no more; her sobs choked her utterance. She had said enough; I remembered her then, and I recollected that at the time, she had been seated where you are now, listening to the Word of God. As soon as she had sufficiently recovered herself, she told me, that for the last thirteen years, that is from the time of her release, she had been in service in a respectable family at Brighton; that now being in an firm state of health, she was returning to London to Ejoy the fruits of her little earnings, and above all, the appiness, with which she had first become acquainted Within these walls, where we are now assembled, and where, she blessed God, that Hehad brought her; she will be soon in that place, where the children of God enjoy true liberty; and have every reason to believe,” added Mrs. Fry, that her hope of salvation is founded upon her Saviour alone, and that she is a true child of God." one. "During this recital, which this excellent woman delivered with that inimitable simplicity, which characterises her, the eyes of all present were filled with tears, sympathy had drawn every one together, had opened all hearts, and made prisoners, and all others who were there to feel as We all felt that with God there is no respect of persons, that there is but one way of salvation for all, and that this salvation is for all. After a few very solemn words spoken by a minister of Christ, who was present, the prisoners withdrew; and we learnt, with great joy, from Mrs. Fry, that she had received excellent accounts of the religious state of several women who are now in New South Wales, and who are accomplishing the time of their transportation there. "In leaving Newgate, and once more breathing the pure air, and beholding the sun, which never penetrates through those dismal walls into the deep courts of the prison, we said to one another! how happy we are that, these bolts open to us! Is it not owing to the grace of God, manifested before ever we were born, to the pious parents he blessed us with, to the education we have received, to the various circumstances of our lives, is it not to God's mercy alone which has made a difference between the state of those poor women and our own? The germ of those sins which have brought them to the place where they now are; was it not in our hearts also? Alas, when we consider all circumstances as God considers them, our light, and their ignorance-the restraints which have kept us, and the temptations and want, which have led them into sin; which of us must not feel, that perhaps, in the sight of God, we may be far below many a guilty prisoner in Newgate. Christ inviting the sinful Soul to Himself. Why hast thou turned from him that loveth thee? Remember that for thy sake I was numbered among the transgressors. Remember that for thy sake I suffered a cruel death. I came down from heaven to raise thee to heaven. I was made low to exalt thee. I was made poor to enrich thee. I was dishonoured to bring glory upon thee. I was wounded to heal thee. I died that thou mightest have life. Thou didst sin, and I took thy sin upon myself. Dost thou despise my love? Instead of love, thou givest Dost thou desire good for thyself? Every good is with me. Dost thou desire happiness? Every blessing is with me. Dost thou desire dignity? Who is more noble than the Son of God? tion, and in agony he cried out, whilst he rolled himself on his bed, like one distracted, "O God! O my Lord! what shall I do?" But it was evident that his convictions were something like those of Simon Magus. He was afraid, but had no sense whatever of the greatness of his sins. He even sent for me twice, and on those occasions he manifested a strong desire that I should pray by him, and showed a disposition to listen to the word of God; but such feel. ings were only momentary: the Evil Spirit seemed to have supreme power over him, and infidelity lay at the root of his heart! He had not given me any reason to suppose that he was an infidel. I discovered it from the following circumstance, which occurred during my last visit to him-his last day upon earth. He appeared more attentive this day than usual to wha' I said, and having talked to him for some time on the cessity of believing in the atonement made by Jes Calvary; and perceiving that he seemed affected w I had advanced, 1 asked him if I should prav which he replied, "If you please." Wher my knees he cried out, seemingly with p bitterness of soul, "O Lord! how shall ficulty which is in my way to believe I might be saved ?" I asked him on which he looked very wild. Do you believe the Bible to he looked at me in such and shaking his head. remaining strength "No! No! not return, and th which they neighbor upon yo S ciment a beluna muun many valuable works; The Duties of a Christian," was reprinted "Moscow, in 1855, for the 39th time. Translated from The Revival at Amherst College. (Concluded from our last.) The ordinary exercises of college were not interrupted. The but recitations went on unchanged, and I well recollect the apPresident held two or three religious meetings during the week, silently and slowly from their rooms, and assemble at the appointpearance of my mathematical classes. The students would walk not made with God, would sit with downcast eyes, and when it of such emotions as I have described. Others, whose peace was their feelings, and finding that they could not recite, would ask came their turn to be questioned, would make an effort to control ed place. It was me to excuse them. s plain that the hearts of many of them were full Others, known heretofore as hardened ene. mies of God and religion, sat still, their heads reclined upon the seats before them, with hearts overwhelmed with remorse and sor row, and eyes filled with tears. I could not ask them a question. One morning, I recollect, so strong and so universal were these feelings, that we could not go on. The room was silent as death. down; I called upon one after another, but in vain; Every eye was and we together prayed God to come and be with us, and bless us, and to save us and our class-mates from sin and suffering, and then silently went to our rooms. The buildings were as still this week as if they had been depopulated. The students loved to be alone. They walked about silently. They said little when they met, as men always do when their hearts are full. Late in the evening they would collect in little circles in one another's rooms, to spend a few moments in prayer. I was often invited to these meetings, and it was delightful to see the little assembly coming into the room at the appointed time, each bringing his own chair, and gathering around the bright burning fire, with the armed chair placed in one corner for their instructor, and the two occupants of the room together upon the other side. They who were present at these meetings will not soon forget the enjoyment with which their hearts were filled, as they here bowed in supplication before God. On Tuesday and Thursday evenings we assembled in the larg est lecture room for more public worship. It was the same room where, a few weeks before, on the same occasions, we could see only here and there one among the vacant, gloomy seats. Now, how changed! At the summons of the evening bell, group after group ascended the stairs, and crowded the benches. It was the rhetorical lecture-room, and was arranged with rows of seats on until I had them all silently listening thirty-five in number, and they be to them npwards of an hour, dr were shed, and ihe house, sounded with loose and w into what it ought to h Every thing was as then disturbed by of their folly ir service of SP the glory Bef ed t all platform ne settees were ne President was Professors; and be. crowded with young rd of God. meetings. It was one of ed, and before us, crowding athered all the wild, irreligious, en which the institution containof them; all enmity gone, opposiaed, and they sat in silence, gazing at in all his words, as he pressed upon them m to throw down the weapons of their resubmit themselves to God. The text for ollect right, was this, "Notwithstanding, be kingdom of God has come nigh unto you." the room felt that it was nigh. He spoke in a impressive manner, and every word went to a hun. hearts. Many persons imagine that preaching in on is loud and noisy, and filled with exciting remarks, vagant gesticulations; and it is so sometimes, when men to make a revival by their own power. But where the of God really comes, there are very different indications. y one feels irresistibly that God is there, and that he himself st walk humbly and softly before Him. The almost supernaaral power which preaching seems to have at such a time, is the power of simple truth on hearts bowed down before it by influences from above. Such a season robs eloquence and genius of all their power; declamation is more than useless, and all the arts of oratory of no avail. There are souls awed and subdued before God, and longing for the light of truth; and he who can supply these desires with the greatest calmness, and directness, and simplicity, will be the means of producing the most powerful effects. A man could scarcely give utterance to rant, and declamation, and noisy harangue in such a room, even if he had come all prepared to do it. As he entered such a scene, he would be sub dued and calmed by its irresistible influence. He would instinetively feel, that noisy eloquence there would grate upon every ear and shock every heart, and no bold assurance would be sufficient to carry him on. We listened to the sermon, which was earnest and impressive, though direct, plain, and simple; it told the ungodly hearers before us, that the kingdom of heaven was nigh them, and urged them to enter it. We knew,-we could almost feel that they were entering it; and when at the close of the meeting, we sang our parting hymn, I believe there was as much real, deep-flowing happiness in that small but crowded apartment, as four such walls ever contained. When the indications of this visit from above first appeared, it was about a fortnight before the close of the term, and in about ten days its object was accomplished. Out of the whole number of those who had been irreligious at its commencement, about one half professed to have given themselves up to God; but as to all the talent, and power of opposition, and open enmity,-the vice, the profaneness, the dissipation,-the revival took the whole. With one or two exceptions, it took the whole. And when a few weeks afterwards, the time arrived for those thus changed to make a public profession of religion, it was a striking spectacle to see them standing in a crowd in the broad aisle of the college chapel, purified, sanctified, and in the presence of all their fellow-students, renouncing sin, and solemnly consecrating themselves to God. Seven years have since elapsed, and they are in his service now. I have their names before me, and I do not know of one who does not continue faithful to his Master still.-Fras the CORNER STONE of Jacob Abbot, abridged by the Rev. Henry Blunt, M. A. Rector of Upper Chelsea. CONTRIBUTIONS are to be sent, post or carriage paid, for the Editor, to Messrs. SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co., Stationer's Court, London, or to Mr. SEACOME, Bookseller, Chester. Notice: Several interesting Contributions are necessarily kept back for a future number of the Christian Beacon. LONDON PUBLISHED BY SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & Co.; HAMIL TON, ADAMS, & Co.; AND R. GROOMBRIDGE; BANCKS & Co. MANCHESTER; H. PERRIS, LIVERPOOL; J. SEACOME, CHES TER.-T. THOMAS, Printer, Eastgate Street Row, Chester. usiness have you to interfere with the asures of the working classes? Why ack the rich? You are quite misthink you are going to have every n way. We have not been used meddling fellows like you, and ve you warning that if you think n of priesteraft here, it wont do, , at least the chief part of them, vour back. Your long sermons urch, but neither you nor any crew will be able to empty I am no more an advocate of perance than yourself, but it seems that you set your face against all recreation, and if the place were filled with such as you an honest publican might starve. uses. .... The door of the study opened and the pastor threw down the anonymous letter, he had neither the time nor the inclination to read more, he was called to visita dying parishoner. In a dark chamber, barely and meanly furnished, a young man lay dying. He was asleep, but so worn and wasted, so very near death was his bodily frame, that his countenance in sleep wore already the look of a Corpse. His mother sat beside his bed with her intensé gazefixed upon him; and affecting was the contrast between the rigid calmness of the one countenance and the expression of agonized anxiety upon the other. The sleeper started, and awoke. His mother rose up, "Tell me dear mother," he "Tell me dear mother," he said, as she bent down over him. "Is he comeis the minister come? and my poor father-have they brought him? I dreamed that they were both come and waiting till I awoke. I wish to see them together, it is almost my last wish to hear our minister speak to my father, at the time I take my last leave of you all." "They are not yet come," said the mother, "there has been scarcely time for your sister to go to the rectory, and then to find your father, you have slept but a short time!" The young man made no reply, but again closed his eyes, and the wretched mother returned to her seat. At length the latch of the house door was gently lifted, and the pastor's well known step was heard by the mother in the room below. He came up to the chamber of the dying man, but although the old stairs RECTOR OF ST. PETER'S, CHESTER. [PRICE 3d. creaked under his light tread, the sleeper did not stir, he was now fast asleep. The old clergyman held up his finger to forbid the mother to disturb her son, and waited quietly for his waking. The stillness of that melancholy chamber was soon broken. There was something like a struggle at the street door as it was opened and closed, and then opened again. "Come in I will. You said my poor boy sent for me. What has the parson to do with me? Whose house is this? answer me that: come, 'come-take your arm away or I shall hurt you!" These were the words which met the ear, the other speaker spoke in whispers and few of her words were heard. Father, dear father pray wait, don't let him hear you-he is so very ill." The dying man had awoke at the first sound of his father's loud voice. loud voice. He raised himself with difficulty and sat up in bed. 66 The After he had listened a little while, his countenance fell. "It is as I feared," he said, after a short pause. "He is not in a fit state to hear any thing that might be said to him. O mother, don't go, you know that he will only ill treat you. No, no, he had better come up here than do that:" but here the dying man sank back, he was too much exhausted to say more. old clergyman left him to his mother, and hastened to prevent the drunken man from coming up. He was only just in time, for he saw the girl sink under a blow given by her brutal father, and met him as he was about to ascend the stairs. Go back at once," said the Pastor, and the gentle, but solemn dignity of his voice and manner stopt the man. With staring eyes and widely opened mouth he surveyed him for some moments and then a silly smile spread over his bloated features, and he said, "y....ou're a g....ood man, a v....ery g....ood man, shake hands with me, y....ou're a good fellow." The clergyman grasped his wrist and gently led him away. They had not gone many steps when the drunken man resisted; but the old minister had been too well used to the ways of drunkards; he knew how to deal with them, and at last he succeeded in leading the man from the house. He left him under the care of a trust-worthy and Christian neighbour, and he returned to the chamber of Dost thou seek exaltation? Who is higher than the King of heaven? Dost thou desire wealth? 1 have all riches. Dost thou desire friendship? Who is more worthy of love, and more loving than I? for I laid down my life for all. Dost thou seek help? Who can help except me? Dost thou seek rest? Come unto me, and I will give thee rest. Dost thou seek peace? I am the peace of the soul. Dost thou seek light? I am the light of the world. Dost thou seek truth? I am the truth. Dost thou seek the way? I am the way. Dost thon seek a guide to heaven? I am the guide. Dost thou not dare to come? To whom is there an easier access? Art thou fearful of asking? Whom, coming unto me with faith, have I refused? Do thy sins hinder thee? I died for sinners. Does the multitude of thy sins distress thee? In me is abundant mercy. See St. Mathew 11 chap. 28, 29, 30. verses. By Bishop Tehon, who died in 1783. He was eminent for his piety, and left behind him many valuable works; one of which, "The Duties of a Christian," was reprinted in Moscow, in 1835, for the 39th time. Translated from the Russian. The Revival at Amherst College. The ordinary exercises of college were not interrupted. The President held two or three religious meetings during the week, but recitations went on unchanged, and I well recollect the appearance of my mathematical classes. The students would walk silently and slowly from their rooms, and assemble at the appointed place. It was plain that the hearts of many of them were full of such emotions as I have described. Others, whose peace was not made with God, would sit with downcast eyes, and when it came their turn to be questioned, would make an effort to control their feelings, and finding that they could not recite, would ask me to excuse them. Others, known heretofore as hardened ene. mies of God and religion, sat still, their heads reclined upon the seats before them, with hearts overwhelmed with remorse and sorrow, and eyes filled with tears. I could not ask them a question. One morning, I recollect, so strong and so universal were these feelings, that we could not go on. The room was silent as death. Every eye was down; 1 called upon one after another, but in vain; and we together prayed God to come and be with us, and bless us, and to save us and our class-mates from sin and suffering, and then silently went to our rooms. The buildings were as still this week as if they had been depopulated. The students loved to be alone. They walked about silently. They said little when they met, as men always do when their hearts are full. Late in the evening they would collect in little circles in one another's rooms, to spend a few moments in prayer. I was often invited to these meetings, and it was delightful to see the little assembly coming into the room at the appointed time, each bringing his own chair, and gathering around the bright burning fire, with the armed chair placed in one corner for their instructor, and the two occupants of the room together upon the other side. They who were present at these meetings will not soon forget the enjoyment with which their hearts were filled, as they here bowed in supplication before God. On Tuesday and Thursday evenings we assembled in the larg est lecture room for more public worship. It was the same room where, a few weeks before, on the same occasions, we could see only here and there one among the vacant, gloomy seats. Now, how changed! At the summons of the evening bell, group after group ascended the stairs, and crowded the benches. It was the rhetorical lecture-room, and was arranged with rows of seats on the three sides, and a table for the Professor on a small platform on the fourth. The seats were soon full, and the settees were brought in to fill the area left in the centre. The President was seated at the table; on either side of him the Professors; and be. yond them, and all around, the room was crowded with young men hungering and thirsting after the word of God. I recollect particularly one of these meetings. It was one of the earliest after the revival commenced, and before us, crowding the settees in the open area, were gathered all the wild, irreligious, vicious, and abandoned young men which the institution contain ed. There they were, the whole of them; all enmity gone, opposition silenced, and pride subdued, and they sat in silence, gazing at the President, and drinking in all his words, as he pressed upon them their sins, and urged them to throw down the weapons of their re bellion, and come and submit themselves to God. The text for the evening, if I recollect right, was this, "Notwithstanding, be ye sure of this, the kingdom of God has come nigh unto you." Every person in the room felt that it was nigh. He spoke in a calm, quiet, but impressive manner, and every word went to a hundred and fifty hearts. Many persons imagine that preaching in such a season is loud and noisy, and filled with exciting remarks, and extravagant gesticulations; and it is so sometimes, when men attempt to make a revival by their own power. But where the Spirit of God really comes, there are very different indications. Every one feels irresistibly that God is there, and that he himself must walk humbly and softly before Him. The almost supernatural power which preaching seems to have at such a time, is the power of simple truth on hearts bowed down before it by influences from above. Such a season robs eloquence and genius of all their power; declamation is more than useless, and all the arts of oratory of no avail. There are souls awed and subdued before God, and longing for the light of truth; and he who can supply these desires with the greatest calmness, and directness, and simplicity, will be the means of producing the most powerful effects. A man could scarcely give utterance to rant, and declamation, and noisy harangue in such a room, even if he had come all prepared to do it. As he entered such a scene, he would be sub dued and calmed by its irresistible influence. He would instinetively feel, that noisy eloquence there would grate upon every ear and shock every heart, and no bold assurance would be sufficient to carry him on. We listened to the sermon, which was earnest and impressive, though direct, plain, and simple; it told the ungodly hearers before us, that the kingdom of heaven was nigh them, and urged them to enter it. We knew, we could almost feel that they were entering it; and when at the close of the meeting, we sang our parting hymn, I believe there was as much real, deep-flowing hap piness in that small but crowded apartment, as four such walls ever contained. When the indications of this visit from above first appeared, it was about a fortnight before the close of the term, and in about ten days its object was accomplished. Out of the whole number of those who had been irreligious at its commencement, about half professed to have given themselves up to God; but as to all the talent, and power of opposition, and open enmity,-the vir the profaneness, the dissipation,-the revival took the whole. With one or two exceptions, it took the whole. And when a few weeks afterwards, the time arrived for those thus changed to make a public profession of religion, it was a striking spectacle to see them standing in a crowd in the broad aisle of the college chapel, purified, sanctified, and in the presence of all their fellow-students, renouncing sin, and solemnly consecrating themselves to God. Seven years have since elapsed, and they are i his service now. I have their names before me, and I do not kn of one who does not continue faithful to his Master still.-Fra the CORNER STONE of Jacob Abbot, abridged by the Rer. Her Blunt, M. A. Rector of Upper Chelsea. CONTRIBUTIONS are to be sent, post or carriage paid, for the Editor, to Messrs. SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co., Stationer's Court, London, or to Mr. SEACOME, Bookseller, Chester. Notice:-Several interesting Contributions are necessarily kept back for a future number of the Christian Beacon. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & Co.; HAV TON, ADAMS, & Co.; AND R. GROOMBRIDGE; BANCKS & CoMANCHESTER; H. PERRIS, LIVERPOOL; J. SEACOME, CHES TER.-T. THOMAS, Printer, Eastgate Street Row, Chester, |