"E. B. M." OF BIRMINGHAM.

WE once more insert a piece or two from the pen of this valued and now aged sister. Not only has she, by her poetic effusions, been made a helper to the people of God, but they, by purchasing her productions, have been helps to her now in her declining years. We are extremely glad to find that she has "many orders from the Continent, Australia, India, and New Zealand, and many very encouraging testimonies of the Lord's having blessed them to one and another of His dear children, and very signally so upon dying beds. Therefore, dear brother," our aged friend adds, "I go on as the Lord leads me, remembering that this is the only widow's mite' I now possess to cast into His treasury. I have sometimes wished to complete one hundred pieces, but the pins in this earthly tabernacle are so evidently loosening, that I desire to leave it with the Lord, and to know no will but His. How hard a lesson I find this to learn I need not tell you, dear brother. Oh, these struggles between flesh and Spirit, how they mar our happiness, and rob us of our peace! I am not left to doubt my personal interest in Christ, but so tormented with this bondage of corruption, and painfully learning, by daily experience, that in me (that is, in my flesh) dwelleth No good thing." We are quite sure it will afford pleasure and satisfaction to our readers in continuing to strengthen the hands by the circulation of these leaflets. Numbering, as they now do, upwards of ninety sorts, they furnish such a variety of sound and suitable material for distribution among the tried and soul-exercised of the one living family who are called personally to know the truth of the divine record, "It is through much tribulation ye must enter the kingdom."

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"This (says E. B. M.) is my present experience," under date Nov. 22, 1864 We believe there are many who, deeply feeling the plagues of their own hearts, will sympathize with her, both the one and the other knowing experimentally the meaning of the apostle's words, "We that are in this tabernable do groan, being burdened;" but what a mercy to be permitted to connect with 2 Cor. 4 ("For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life ") Rom viii. 26, ("Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered"). Here, tried and troubled reader, is our mercy.-ED.

V.

I.

THE BONDAGE OF CORRUPTION.

When press'd by sin and Satan, my heart gives way to fear,
Oh, God of my salvation, in mercy then appear!

Speak to my heart some promise in every time of need,

And chase away these gloomy fears, which cause my heart to bleed.
This "bondage of corruption " and this deceitful heart,
Combine with sin and Satan to act a treacherous part;
Subdue their hellish power, and help me yet to raise
A gladsome song of victory to my Redeemer's praise.

The sin that dwelleth in me oft makes me groan and sigh,
Lest in some time of weakness I should Thy power deny!
Oh, save me from this sinful self, which robs my soul of peace,
And in each trying moment my faith and hope increase.

Oh, Jesus, precious Jesus, mine eyes are unto Thee,
My helpless soul deliver, and set my spirit free;
That in Thy name rejoicing, and with Thy presence blest,
My heart may be in heaven, that land of peace and rest!
There shall no foes assail me, nor draw my feet aside,
Secure in Thy lov'd presence I ever shall abide,
Exchange these groans and sighs for songs of holy joy,
While everlasting praises shall be my sweet employ.

II.

REFLECTIONS UPON A BELOVED SISTER, NOW "ABSENT FROM
THE BODY, BUT PRESENT WITH THE LORD."

Dear saint! thou hast fled to the bosom of Jesus,
That haven of rest thou hast coveted long;
Releas'd from this wilderness of sorrow and sighing,
Now joining in heaven the glorified throng!
We would not be selfish, and wish to recall thee,
For long didst thou suffer in weakness and pain;
And now disencumbered from all that oppress'd thee,
We would not encumber thy spirit again.

How greatly we miss thee, my now sainted sister,
No words can express, and no heart can conceive,
For nature will linger o'er past recollections,
And weep over that which we cannot relieve:
But faith can arise from the ashes of sorrow,
And soar to yon kingdom of glory above,
Where thou art adoring the Triune-Jehovah,
And all is resplendent with glory and love.
Oh, holy, omnipotent, life-giving Saviour!
I turn unto Thee, the strong-hold of my
heart;
Oh, keep me amid all these struggles of nature,
Nor suffer me ever from Thee to depart;
But strengthen my spirit in sorrowful moments
To follow that lov'd one safe landed with Thee,
And then shall we warble Thy praises together,
From sorrow and sighing eternally free.

[To be had post-free of Mrs. Moens, 47, Bath Row, Birmingham, 6d. per doz., or 3s. 6d. per 100.]

GREETINGS FROM AFAR.

To the "OLD PILGRIM," Bedminster.

MY DEAR BROTHER IN THE LORD JESUS,-You will excuse the liberty I have taken in addressing you, but in reading your piece in this month's Gospel Magazine, it so drew forth my soul to praise God that He ever raised up for the defence and proclamation of His truth, SAMUEL EYLES PIERCE. You, it appears, had the privilege of hearing him proclaim when living the fulness that there is in the blessed Jesus, and the Holy Spirit blessed the same to you. I never enjoyed that privilege; but I can truly say that the same Spirit made his writings the power of God to enlighten my dark and benighted mind. His letters have been particularly blessed to me; truly they are full of Christ, and I have said many times that I esteem them greater than any other book-next to the Bible, I believe. I have most of his works, and I do esteem them very highly, for the simple reason that they exalt the blessed Redeemer, and abase the sinner. It

is a lamentable fact that the greater part of the preaching in this country is the very opposite to that set forth in the word of God, and which our beloved brother, PIERCE, delighted to proclaim; it is but a "yea and nay gospel at best." But what a mercy it is that you and I have been taught to appreciate the fulness that there is in Jesus; that He is our "all and in all;" that "He is made of God unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption;" that we may glory alone in Him; that we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace; that" He was made sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him;' and that He hath put away all our sins by the sacrifice of Himself; and, to use the language of dear PIERCE," Christ's blood is our everlasting purity, and His righteousness our eternal perfection: and all this is secured by faith; and, when Christ dwells in our hearts by faith, how little do we esteem all things else— 'Jesus only '-precious, precious truth!"

It is a lamentable fact, that from many (from whom we should expect better things) we hear so much about depravity and corruption, and so little of Jesus. It is a blessed truth that there is infinitely more in my blessed Redeemer to save me, than there is in my sins (awful and heinous though they are) to condemn me; and, as I am enabled to receive this blessed truth into my renewed mind, I live above sin and all my corruptions. If a knowledge of Jesus as taught in the blessed word, and revealed or applied to us by the Spirit, does not lead us to hate sin, and live above the world, surely nothing will; but I bless God that I know this will. My dear brother, farewell; I never expect to see your face in the flesh, but I do expect to see you in glory, and, with dear PIERCE and all the redeemed, to sing the song to Him that hath washed and redeemed us by His own most precious blood.

Baltimore, U. S., March 26, 1864.

THE DEPTHS OF SATAN.

C. W.

ONE of the most remarkable instances, perhaps, to be found in history of the cruel craft and subtilty of the great enemy of souls, is that narrated by D'Aubigné regarding the introduction of Catherine de Medicis into France.

The Reformation had in a great measure triumphed in Germany; England was about separating from the crushing thraldom of Rome; and the light of truth and faith's bright star were breaking through Europe's dark horizon. Francis the First, of France, was restrained in the exercise of impetuous cruelty against the preachers of the truth by one of the most loving-hearted Christian women who ever breathed-Margaret of Valois, his own sister. Calvin was commencing his career, many hearts had received heaven's truth with heavenly love; the old foundations of Popish delusion were shaken as with an earthquake. The vulture's eye with keen, malignant sagacity was watching all this; a girl of about fourteen years of age is brought forward on the scene. Clement, the Pope of Rome, is the satanic instrument who brings her over to France. She is given to the king's son—a deadly gift, and instrument of hell—to wring the hearts of the children yet unborn. St. Bartholomew's massacre already existed in the germ.

D'Aubigné says:

"Death-death, who was always her faithful follower, who served her even when she would have averted his dart; who, by striking the dauphin, was to make her the

wife of the heir to the crown; by striking her father-in-law, to make her queen; and by striking down successively her husband and all her sons, to render her supreme controller of the destinies of France. In gratitude, therefore, towards her mysterious and sinister ally, the Florentine woman was, forty years later, and in a night of August, to give him a magnificent entertainment in the streets of Paris, to fill a lake with blood that he might bathe therein, and organize the most terrible festival that had ever been held in honour of Death."

In the early period of Christianity, when "the prince of this world" stirred up heathen Rome against believers, and caused them to be slaughtered in the Colosseum, it was a common saying, "Christianos ad leones;" which is a specimen of the venomous malice which this deceiver of nations constantly maintains against believers. Papal Rome was then raised by the craft and subtilty of this cruel foe of man to wage persecution against the true-hearted lovers of the truth. In all this there is a far-seeing malignant knowledge of human nature and human depravity, and a terribly fierce determination to stir up on every side instruments of hell against the good of man; but there is a path which this vulture's eye hath not seen, and the persecuted and slayed passed through this path to the bright regions of eternal joy and everlasting peace and bliss.

66

How little is this malignant being of cruel malice regarded by men generally as "the prince of this world," and as the chief of numerous spiritual powers of the air which surround our globe! What little practical regard is given to these malignant powers, who are the rulers of the darkness," ignorance, blindness, and unbelief, so prevalent, shutting out the high and heavenly harmonies of truth and wisdom. If another planet besides our own was partially under the malignant influence of such "rulers of darkness," should we not think it a subject of deep interest, and fully worthy our keenest investigation?

Let it never be forgotten that this same cruel foe endeavours to rule in the little world of Mansoul with the same malignant subtilty as he does in the great globe which we inhabit; and none but the pitiful, most merciful, and gracious Saviour of sinners can fully understand his depth of malice, read all his hellish designs, and confound them, with all his cruel devices: Infinite Wisdom bringing infinite good out of finite malice.

OBITUARY.

THE LATE MRS. GOWLAND, OF BIRMINGHAM.

OUR dear departed sister was one of the sweetest Christians we ever knew: so tender, so loving, so amiable. She had been no stranger to trial. A few years since she was called to surrender a dear son, who was taken away in consumption; but oh, how sweetly mellowed and meekened was her spirit under the stroke! The whole tenor of her mind, and the general bearing of her character, was such as to remind us most forcibly of one whom it was the privilege of the writer to call " Mother;" and a mother indeed she was, in the truest and best sense of the word. Both of these, we repeat, were mothers in Israel, and ornaments indeed to their profession; so loving-so unselfish-yea, so entirely forgetful of themselves, in the intensity of their desire to contribute to the well-being of others.

In reference to our dear departed friend, "E. B. M." writes:

"47, Bath Row, Birmingham,
"Nov. 7th, 1864.

"MY DEAR BROTHER IN JESUS,-I was greatly cheered by once more receiving a letter from you this morning, although deeply grieved at the sorrowful circumstance which called forth your sympathizing inquiries. Yes, dear brother, our dear sister Gowland has been summoned hence before her poor paralyzed husband, after all; and a very mysterious providence it seems to our poor finite view. She had been anxiously nursing her dear husband for a long time, night and day, which at last seemed to be so undermining her constitution that she was persuaded, after much entreaty, to give up her post to a practical nurse. Soon after doing so she went to Solihull, to be with her daughter for a few days, thinking change of air might refresh her. But the journey of a few miles was too much for her; she became gradually worse, and in a few weeks sunk under the attack. The lungs being very seriously affected, she was scarcely able to articulate, and not allowed to see any one but just those around her, therefore I have heard no particulars at present.

"Yours in covenant union,

In a subsequent note Mrs. MOENS adds:

E. B. MOENS."

"Mrs. Gowland will be greatly missed here in many ways; her motherly care over me and many of God's dear children was marvellous; but her happy spirit is now freed from all the cares and entanglements of this time-state. I little expected her to be removed before me, but all our Father does is well. Oh, for faith to leave all the future in His dear hands!"

In contemplating the passing away "one by one" of those who

"Once were mourners here below,

And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With sins, and doubts, and fears;"

well, we say, may we adopt the touching lines of (to us) an unknown writer: