peared strong symptoms of relapse, occasioned by a cold. Recourse was had to the same mode of treatment which had been used before, and there was again a flattering prospect of restoration to health. On the evening in which she died, after tea, she appeared cheerful, and sewed some article for herself. About eight o'clock she felt the room too close, and walked into her sleeping-room to get a little fresh air. She was no sooner seated in a chair, than she was seized with a violent paroxysm of her disosder, which affected her breathing and her head. She was immediately laid upon her bed, and the only words she uttered were

those which she addresed to her father, who stood near to her, namely, "pray, pray." In a few minutes, she yielded up her spirit into the hands of her Go and SAvIOUR. From her general appearance, a stranger would have supposed that she was stout and healthy. She possessed great sweetness of temper, and had the most amiable and unassuming manners. But,

Nipt by the wind's unthinely blast, Parch'd by the sun's directer ray, The momentary glories waste,

The short-liv'd beauties die away!" -Young Reader! be thou also ready; for at such an hour as thou thinkest not, the Son of MAN cometh!

POETRY.

ELEGIAC STANZAS

To the Memory of the late Rev. JOSEPH BENSON, Who exchanged the labours and sorrows of mortality for the blessedness of those who die in the LORD, on Friday, February 16, 1821.

"Thou turnest man to destruction: again thou sayest, Return, ye children of men. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday, when it is past, and as a watch in the night," Psalm xc.

YES! 'tis thy sure! thy just! thy dread decree!
Thou speakest, and the dust to dust returns!

Man, child of sorrow and infirmity,

His little span on earth's dark waste sojourns,

Casts round his anxious glance, and scarcely learns

The secret of his being,-ere a blast

Blows from the desert, or the lightning burns,;
With sudden clouds his sky is overcast,

And to the yawning grave the victim sinks at last!

The grave-lone, narrow house!-thy captives holds,
The captives of thy justice!-yet the hour
Of their release time's opening scroll unfolds,
And then shall be reveal'd thy word of power!

Then shall spring forth, more beauteous than the flower
By summer suns reviv'd, the heirs of light.

No more shall death the changeless frame devour,
No more the grave enclose with bars of night,

But youth eternal bloom in endless vigour bright.

Go, then! awaiting this Divine award,
Go, Zion! bear thy Prophet to his tomb!
Thy BENSON's dust shall hosts of angels guard,
Till ministrant, before the JUDGE they come,
To wake, to rouse him to his final doom.
What though not yet this wondrous morning break,
He knows no night, amid death's deepest gloom.
In yonder bowers, I see his spirit wake,

And, present with his LORD, with Him in bliss partake.

The dimming veil-the veil of flesh-withdrawn,
On his rapt soul what wondrous visions rise!

Here he was wont, in Wisdom's glimmering dawn,
Tow'rds Truth's bright fount to turn his wistful eyes,
Deep pondering on those glorious mysteries
Obscurely to enquiring angels known;

But with that meekness, which becomes the wise,
His prostrate spirit bow'd before the Throne,

Content Heaven's boundless grace,-man's low estate,--to own.
From fields of light, where saints made perfect dwell,
From balmy groves, and springs of sacred joy,
Oh might he come! to listening crowds to tell
The wond'rous themes that now his thoughts employ !
How would he speak of Him, who could destroy
Man's mortal foe! who, stooping from his throne,
Crush'd the dire serpent, by whose dread decoy
The work of the CREATOR was o'erthrown,

And man seduc'd,-deceiv'd,-left hopeless and alone!

How would he triumph in the conquest won!
The mighty Victor with what plaudits greet!
His debt of gratitude how frankly own!
How pay his homage at the SAVIOUR'S feet!
But why recall him from his shining seat?
Suspend the strains of his eternal song?

For themes like these to him were ever sweet,
And often on his accents have we hung,

While sounds as deep,-as high,-flow'd from his mortal tongue.

The Preacher of the Cross! no common powers,

No single talent, to his trust was given;
Train'd and prepar'd, e'en from his earliest hours,
To be the chosen minister of heaven,

His infant heart receiv'd the sacred leaven,
And secretly through all his soul it spread.
The graces of the SPIRIT, One and Seven,
With hallow'd influence on his heart and head
Descending, form'd the Man,-the Christian Prophet sped.

The Sacred Volume, Source of Truth Divine,
He studied with the royal Prophet's zeal,
Explor'd with prayer that rich, exhaustless mine,
With prayer, that He who gave it might reveal
Its treasures to his heart, his spirit fill
With hallow'd wisdom, whose reflected rays
Might on the churches shine:-to know his will,
To sound the depths of his Redeemer's grace,
Employ'd his earliest hours,-consum'd his latest days.
Hence, disciplin'd, enlighten'd, pious, wise,
A master-builder to the church he came,
And labour'd long to see that building rise,
A house for GOD, a temple for the LAMB:
And in that day, which shall his work proclaim,
Full many a polish'd living-stone shall stand,
Full many a saint shall rise to bless his name,
Who, hewn from nature's quarry by his hand,
Adorn that nobler house, built in Emmanuel's land,
But who shall speak the fervour of his zeal,
While list ning multitudes around him stood?
Their mingled grief and terror who shall tell,
While dark on Sinai's thundering clouds he rode,
Arm'd with the vengeance and the wrath of Gon?-
When standing with the JUDGE beside the Throne,

He held by turns the sceptre and the rod,
Summon'd the just to light, to life unknown,
Or drove the wicked forth, to pour the' unpitied groan.
A polish'd shaft, of temper'd point and strong,
Drawn from the quiver of the KING of kings,
He pour'd his penetrating words along,

And heaven, and death, and hell, were present things.
Convictions poignant, sharp as scorpions' stings,
Deep piercing, struck the trembling sinner's heart;
When, lo! the balm that sov'reign mercy brings
He proffer'd, to allay the painful smart,

And strove with healing hand to draw the rankling dart :
(Himself had felt a wounded spirit's pain,
And prov'd the virtue of the balm he bore :)
And opening then a new and heavenly strain,
He sung of Truth, of Mercy, and of Power;
Aw'd and amaz'd,—pourtray'd that solemn hour,
When blood-stain'd Calvary with trembling saw

Heaven, earth, and hell, their heaviest vengeance shower
On Him! the Victim of the broken law,

Who died the strength of sin,-the sting of death to draw.
Nor here the heaven-instructed preacher stay'd,
Too well he knew the lessons of his LORD;
He knew the servant, as his MASTER made,
With HIM in mind, in spirit, should accord;
The duteous child should hear his FATHER's word,
In meekness suffer, and in love obey,

Seek in his smile his rich, his full reward,

With patience labour, and with fervour pray,

Till life's last work be done, and dawns the eternal day.

Yet not alone, with calmly-patient toil,

These truths sublime the zealous preacher taught;
Nor studious, ling'ring o'er the midnight oil,

From wisdom's mine the stores of knowledge brought;
His useful life, with grace, with virtue fraught,

A living comment on those truths appear'd:

His words were utter'd, and his actions wrought,

As in His sight, whom more than all he fear'd,

Whose precepts were his rule, whose light his spirit cheer'd.

So preach'd, so liv'd,-the man whom Heav'n ordain'd
No orb of dubious, or bewildering light,

A star in the right-hand of CHRIST Sustain'd,
Diffusing o'er the Church a radiance bright:
Now, sunk beneath the' horizon,-on our sight
His lustre beams no longer,-yet the rays

By him emitted, in this world of night,

Have kindled many a spark, whose fires shall blaze In long-long shining streams, when time itself decays.

Yet, Zion! who thy genuine grief shall speak?

1 see the cypress on thy languid brow;
I see the glist'ning dew-drop on thy cheek,
And join with thee, in sympathetic woe:
Justly our tears should for a Father flow!
Justly our hearts should mourn a Prophet's flight,
Yet follow where the heavenly coursers go!
Oh rise! and on the empyrean height

O ertake his chariot-wheels, and dwell with him in light.

+

Yet while thy filial tears o'er BENSON's urn,
Tears not forbidden-not unsanction'd-flow,
Oh! lift thine heart to heaven! thy praise return
To HIM who guides and guards his church below :
From Jordan's banks a band of prophets go,
Whose wistful eyes have watch'd the' ascending car:
The smitten stream Elijah's Gon shall know,
Elijah's fallen mantle each shall wear,

And signs, in Israel wrought, the present Gop declare.
Though oft the rapid whirlwind, in its flight,
Thy valu'd sons hath from thy bosom torn,
Reclaim'd the burning zeal,-the shining light,-
And left thee desolate awhile to mourn,
Yet not despis'd, neglected, or forlorn,
Still faithful ministers thy charge maintain;
And though to heaven their elder friends be
gone,
Great, and not single names, e'en now remain,
Who lead Emmanuel's host the brightest prize to gain.

And oh! while onwards to the plains of light
Those warriors join'd in phalanx firm proceed,
While, more than conqu'rors in that fearful fight,
The foremost fall,-advancing in their stead
Who will receive their baptism! for the dead,
Fall'n in the field of glory, who will rise,

Stand in their ranks, their vacant columns lead,

Like them unconquerable! holy! wise!

Until, like them, they fall-and share with them the prize!

Zion belov'd! on whose maternal cares

Our weakness has repos'd,-we pray for thee!
Nurse of our hopes, kind soother of our fears,

Shall we not pray for thy prosperity!—

Pray, that the Lord thy light, thy strength, may be,
His cloud of glory on thy tents abide,—

That o'er thy pure, thy hallow'd ministry
May wave the banner of the CRUCIFIED,-

And that thy golden lamps be with fresh oil supplied.

Oh Thou! from whom proceeds that efluence sweet,
Which heals thy Church, and blesses, and restores,
Which makes thy bride for purest glory meet,
And fragrance sheds through heav'ns ambrosial bowers;
The light, the grace, thy quick'ning Spirit pours,
Oh! might they on our thirsty plains descend,
In genial dews, in fertilizing showers,
Till rich and ripe the waving harvest bend,

And thou, to bear it home, thy angel-reapers send.

Soon!-for the lapse of thousand, thousand years,
Are but a day to thy eternity!-

A moment!--and the glistening cloud appears,

Before whose brightness heaven and earth shall flee;
Then shall the saints their Saviour's glory see;
Rais'd and transform'd by energy Divine,
Sharers with CHRIST in immortality,

No night, no death, their radiance shall confine,
But, glorious as the sun, the just for ever shine.
February 27, 1821.

A. B.

MISSIONARY NOTICES,

Relating principally to the FOREIGN MISSIONS carried on under the direction of the METHODIST CONFERENCE.

CEYLON.

Extract of a Letter from Mr. CLOUGH, duted Colpetty, April 20, 1820. (Concluded from page 230.)

It has often been a source of regret to me, that for the last two or three years, so much of my time should have been occupied in other work than that which is truly dear to me. For I can indeed assure you, that those are the happiest moments I spend, when I have opportunities of travelling among the Natives, and of personally recommending to them JESUS the Saviour of men. Yet I am not conscious of being at all out of my providential way. On the contrary, as I never forced myself into any of the works I have in hand, I take it as one proof, that Providence has opened my way before me;-and it would have been, I conceive, a dereliction of duty to have withdrawn myself from what appeared to me to be an urgent call from God. On this account, I cannot consider that part of my time to be thrown away, which I spend in translating the word of God.

The translation of the Scriptures in a

state of great forwardness.

This work, I am happy to say, is going on well; and it often cheers a drooping feeling to reflect, that in a short time, the natives of Ceylon will have the whole of the word of life in their own language. After completing the Book of Genesis, the Psalms, and the Book of Proverbs, which was the order pointed out by the Bible Society, we began the Book of Exodus; this is now finished, and about half the Book of Leviticus. In this work, I find my old friend, Petrus Panditta, a

most useful and able co-adjutor; and
I am truly thankful, that a wise
and gracious Providence has placed
such a man under the influence of our
Mission. The other converted priest,
George Nadoris, continues faithful to
his work; and renders an essential
service in the translating-room. I
wish we had a few more such persons;
men of established character; well
known, and universally approved for
their learning, their abilities, and
general respectability. They would
be of incalculable advantage in our
Schools as Singhalese teachers.
Mr. Clough is employed in preparing
for the press a Singhalese Diction-

ary.

with the Dictionary, which I find At present my hands are pretty full both tedious and laborious. But even to this work my mind is quite reconciled, when I consider the circumstances under which I engaged in it, and the great probability that it will, when completed, afford facilities to Missionaries desirous of learning Singhalese, which no other work, hitherto devised, can possibly do.

My little retirement here has afforded me many precious opportunities of renewing my covenant with the LORD; and my approaches to the throne of grace have frequently been accompanied by the most joyful manifestations of his love to my soul. During the last quarter, my mind has been much more led out in prayer to Gon for you all.

Extract of a Letter from Mr. NEWSTEAD, dated Negombo, April 10, 1820. My letter has necessarily been de- to communicate, and for which I have layed by my journey to attend the waited with much anxiety. Book-Committee; but I do not regret the circumstance, as I have hereby Projected extension of the Negombo obtained a piece of information relative to our work, which I feel desirous VOL. XLIV. APRIL, 1821.

Circuit.

I allude to the occupation of Chilaw * 2 N*