The Church of England Magazine

mented that there is little care given by these masters to the spiritual welfare of those who live under them, and with whom they have influence to guide in the right way. Ye masters, this is not well: this thing ought not to be so.

We say, then, to all, give your diligence to promote the piety of the people. Masters, teach your servants the knowledge of God and of Christ. Parents, teach your children; teach your family; teach your household; so that none may be wanting in contributing their labour for the national prosperiety by promoting the national piety. Let each become a minor channel for spreading throughout the land those waters of life which are poured forth among us through the primary channels of the church and her ministry. Then may we hope for national prosperity; then may we hope that the wars and rumours of wars may still be heard, only heard in the distance, and England may never be the object of the fearful expostulation of Jehovah: "Shall I not visit for these things?" Far be from us the day when our state shall cast away her church from her councils: never may our queen cease to be the nursing mother of her people in Christianity! Not that we fear for the church; for we know who has said that the gates of hell shall not prevail against her. But we should fear for the state: we should feel that the state had thrown from her the only anchor she could trust in; and we shall then begin to fear that England will fall, as nations and people have fallen before her, when she has shut up her bible, and pulled down her church, and rejected her Christianity.

Give, then, your diligence to advance the gospel in this land, by lending your helping hand to its advancement in your own neigh bourhood. Look to your children, your servants, your dependents, your schools. See that where ye have influence ye exercise that influence, lest ye be hereafter called to account. Let us not be among those inhabitants of the world, who learn righteousness only when the judgments of God are in the earth. And, if it should be among the purposes of Jehovah to visit us for the stubbornness of our people, if our swearers and our sabbath-breakers and our thieves and our murderers should call down upon this nation the vengeance of heaven, then let us learn from the judgments of God the piety they are designed to teach, submit with patience to the hand of him who judgeth righteously, rejoice in the tribulation which raised our thoughts from this world to hereafter, and thus glorify God in the day of visitation.

DECEMBER.

BY MARY ROBERTS.

"There is who deems all climes, all seasons fair: There is who knows no restless passion's strife; Contentment, smiling at each idle care;

Contentment, thankful for the gift of life.

"She finds in winter many a scene to please-
The morning landscape, fring'd with frost-work gay;
The sun at noon, seen through the leafless trees;
The clear, calm ether at the close of day."

SCOTT.

THE wind was high last month, visiting all nooks and sheltered places, and bearing forth both seeds and leaves; now chasing the thistle's beard over moors and uplands, and now driving with resistvalleys, and are often planted by a tempest on less fury such heavy seeds as ripen in woods and distant hills.

But snow has fallen; and the trees are covered with hoar-frost. Let us go forth; for a winter walk has much to interest. The sun is bright; and magnificent masses of rolling clouds are passing The fierce east wind of athwart the heavens. hollow gusts through the valley, making the heart yesterday is still it sweeps no longer with its sad, and bringing up visions of wrecks on the wild sea-beach, or of travellers who journey through the night, in loneliness and peril. This day is one of those bright, cheerful, spirit-stirring days, which occasionally visit us in December, when it seems as if some new power for enjoyment or achievement suddenly awoke within us. A few large flies have come forth from their hiding-places, to warm themselves in the sun, and the winter-gnat (trichocera hiemalis), with his companions, is footing it as merrily on the soft air air as during the bright evenings of summer. They seem all life and glee: they heed not that snow has made crisp every leaf and blade of grass. lies deep upon the ground, and that the hoar-frost Yesterday the fierce wind kept them in their winter-haunts to-day the sun is bright; and myriads of these active little beings are rejoicing in his beams. Here, too, are moths, sunning themselves on the furrowed trunk of the old beech. Who may look upon them without some degree of sympathy in their enjoyments? without putting aside, though it may be for only a few moments, that strange alchemy which conjures up sad haunting images of coming ill? The world of nature teaches much in this respect. Methinks on every leaf and flower, bird and insect, characters of light are indelibly engraven; he who rightly reads them may learn concerning gladness and contentment.

Last week the heavens were dark with clouds:

the rain fell in torrents; and the wind howled fearfully among the bare branches and tops of trees. Now the wide landscape is covered with snow; and trees and bushes bend beneath its weight: broad sheets and reaches of ice extend along the bed of the ample stream that flowed its scant waters now gurgle among the beds of murmuring along the meadows; but scarcely may rushes and lichen-dotted stones, over which they used to bound, as if in triumph. Yet the scene is beautiful; and, when the heart is filled with gra

of trees and bushes from the severity of frost, and shielding such scattered seeds as are designed to re-clothe the earth with verdure, and such perennials as emerge from out the ground.

Scarlet berries still remain upon the trees, and are eagerly resorted to by the small birds that continue stationary through the winter. The thrush kind search out the warm and pungent roots of the cuckoo-plant, when growing in open places, throwing aside the snow with their feet, and using their bills to bore the earth: they also feed on the ripe berries of the wild briar, which

titude and filial love, every object becomes associated with thoughts of unspeakable tenderness and peace and joy. Far as the eye can reach extends a pure and beautiful expanse of dazzling whiteness; and beside our path the coarsest herbage with withered leaves, and dead and brittle branches broken by the wind, look as if covered with strings of pearls, that reflect the colours of the rainbow. Even those old water-gates, which keep back the stream in rainy weather, rusty and tar-trickled, black and weedy though they be, look as if garnished for a holiday. A change, too, has passed over the green, slimy, dripping pond-hang late upon the leafless branches. Chickweed weed, that clings to the huge timbers, and the broad-leaved docks that spring from out the cracks, and dip into the black, sullen-looking, and cooped-up waters: the one resembles icy feathers; the other is fringed at every point of its serrated leaves with frozen particles that glitter in the sunbeams.

But the holly bushes, with their polished leaves and red berries, that mantle the rocky bank, and | climb by aid of the huge stones far above our heads, how gracefully they are varied with spiders'-webs! Those creatures worked while men slept; and the effect is beautiful. Long strings of pearls seem stretched from one leaf-point to another, as if innumerable spiders, proud to display their skill, had spun and interlaced the glittering webs. An exquisite effect is thus produced in the winter landscape, so new and beautiful, though annually recurring, that few can regard it without admiration.

Consider for a moment the complex machinery by means of which these small threads are spun, and stretched from leaf to leaf; how quickly and yet accurately the webs are formed; with what taste and skill each thread is arranged and braided together! Observe also the seeming pearls with which they are apparently inwoven; for those pearls, equally with all flakes of snow, are composed of crystals, which have each some peculiar beauty. Here are mimic wheels and leaves, stars and pyramids, heraldic-looking devices and icy flowers: here, too, is a perfect triangle, formed of small stars, and a hexagon inclosing a minute trefoil.

The clear calm ether of the heavens, the ramifications presented by leafless branches against a cloudless sky, the hoary appearance of the woods, and the dazzling covering which often suddenly invests all nature, characterizes a winter landscape: its silence too, and the effect produced by shadows on the snow, are not less striking. There is neither voice nor sound where streams and winds and birds awoke the universal chorus. The ear listens to the accustomed thrill of birds among the bushes, or the soaring song of the skylark; but all are gone-some to distant lands, others to the shelter of woods, where grow the holly and wild privet.

But the change is needful; and good it is for the soil to be thus frozen and enwrapped. Frost and snow perform important services. The first breaks the hard clods into smaller parts, and thus prepares it for the labours of the husbandman, and the reception of seeds and plants: it also purifies the atmosphere and stagnant waters. The second silently descends, and covers the earth as with a mantle, protecting the branches and trunks

and common groundsel afford in like manner a
constant supply. Even when the weather is most
severe they are often found in sheltered places,
beneath the shade of trees.
The first grows
wherever its slender roots can penetrate the earth;
and that degree of damp which proves injurious
to every other kind of esculent but slightly affects
the common groundsel. The chickweed flourishes
in places the most dissimilar-beside bogs, and on
dry walls it produces ripe seeds within eight
weeks of its first appearance, and is consequently
renovated seven or eight times during the course
of the season. The seeds are curiously con-
tained within a six-leaved capsule; and this, when
its contents are fully ripe, suddenly reverses, and
lets them fall upon the ground.
Some are
carried by the wind, and sown at a distance:
others sink into the soft mould, from whence they
rapidly emerge with stems and leaves, adapted to
all the purposes of vegetable life. This small
plant is an excellent thermometer. When its
white petals open in the morning, no rain falls for
some hours: when half expanded, the country
people expect showery weather; but, when shut
up, it is well to remain at home.

The readiness with which all such plants endure
cold can only be attributed to their power
of re-
taining heat; a power which the fiercest winds
may not diminish, nor yet the utmost extremity
of cold. From this inexplicable faculty they de-
rive their preservation, as well as increase; and
very curious is the fact that every plant possesses
a latent heat, greater by some degrees than the
atmospheric air. Hence it is that, when flowers
disappear from off the earth, a succession of singu-
lar productions vary the most sterile places; that
the proliferous fringe-moss uprears its fruit-stalk
to the height of two or three inches, with pale
orange capsules, in the depth of winter; and that
the scorpion feather-moss braves the sleet and
hail on Snowdon and Cader Idris, when the ther-
mometer is below the freezing-point. Strong
within them dwells that life which resists the
effects of cold, which gives strength and energy
to many a minute vegetable, causing them to
throw forth leaves, nay, even to perfect seeds,
when all around is one wide waste of snow, and
scarcely may the Alpine traveller, though clad in
fur, resist the violence of the cold. A purpose is
given them to accomplish, a place to fill up in the
creation. Linnæus mentions many such in his
Lapland tour: they are in general rather curious
than attractive; but the solaanella Alpina pro-
duces flowers of considerable beauty. A recent
traveller noticed this plant in the glaciers of the
lower Alps. He observed, while passing a vast
sheet of snow in that desolate region, a slender,

pensive, fragile-looking flower, emerged from out a small round opening in the snow. This delicate flower, with its small, dark purple bell, seemed to look down, and shudder over the icy cleft, which it had formed, as if fatigued and wondering. The lines and gradations of unsullied snow, descending in vast drifts from regions into which no one might penetrate and live, pure though they were, and possessing a character of indescribable sublimity, were yet looked upon by that traveller with awe and wonder; but the sight of a lone flower, where nought else either lived or breathed, awakened different feelings in his breast. The small still voice heard amid the profound stillness of those vast regions spoke in language audible to the mind it told concerning the goodness of its Creator, and bade even the most desponding not to fear.

with the woodcock and Royston crow. Myriads of these birds find their way amid storms and over raging seas, without chart or compass, by aid of that inexplicable instinct which no one can define: they arrived in small companies about the seventh of October, and then in larger troops, and continue coming till the end of December, but uniformly after sunset.

The sheep and cattle, which we observed last month sheltering themselves in warm corners of the fields, or looking wistfully over the gates for their accustomed provender, are there no longer. Hard frost is set in; and they are either penned or housed for the winter. The barn and sheds of farmer Drayton, beside the road, are covered with snow; and on either side of the broad icy path, which leads to the open door, appear the stump ends of a quantity of logs, hung with icicles. What an assemblage of fowls are waiting for the farmer's wife! the old turkey struts and gobbles, and the peacock opens his beautiful tail, in contrast with the dazzling surface. The long range of pigsties are scarcely visible; but many a grunting occupant pushes his brown nose through the snowy railing; while the demure-looking cow suns herself in the sheltered corner, thinking apparently whether she had best enjoy the reflected heat, or move away, on account of the frequent drops that trickle at intervals upon her back from the eaves above."

There is a crispy roughness in the surface of the snow, which seems to help our steps; an elasticity and rebound, which render the going on delightful. Branches droop on every side, and form a sparkling arcade of intermingling boughs, and from among them the contented robin bursts into a song, as if his heart was full of gladness. The trees are leafless, and insect food is scarce; yet he neither doubts nor fears. He has learned, though we know not how, to trust his Maker; and, when ever the whole country is covered with snow, and the fields are hidden from his sight, he chants as cheerfully on the frozen branches in December as Years have passed away since I first described in May. And with him, as if seeking to enliven much that I had seen and felt among the bills and the dull woods, or cheer the hearts of those who valleys of my own sweet village; and perhaps, in pass, it may be, wearily along the snowy lanes, closing the present series of my pleasant labours, the thrush and blackbird bid welcome to the I may be allowed to avail myself of thoughts that sunny gleam. But, if the cold increases, and snow then arose within me; thoughts of joy, or gladlies deep and long, if the chickweed and ground-ness, or of sober feeling, as seasons came and sel cannot struggle forth, troops of confiding little birds assemble in the farmers' yard, or hop before the cottage-door, watching those who come and go, and waiting patiently till some crumbs or grain are thrown out. Sparrows troop as they are wont at all seasons, and gray wrens seek a warm corner in the thatch or hayrick; chaffinches fly in crowds around the habitations of men, while the lark takes shelter among the stubble; blackbirds and thrushes peep from the snowy hedges; and fieldfares, migrating from the arctic regions, settle in the neighbourhood of towns. But the bird that finds a most ready welcome is honest robin, which,

"Half afraid at first
Against the window beats; then brisk alights
On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor,
Eyes all the smiling family askance,

And pecks and starts, and wonders where he is!
Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs
Attract his slender feet."

Winter birds still resort to the shores of Britain: jacks and common snipes; green, dusky, and red-legged sanderlings; oyster-catchers dotterels, and dunlins arrive in troops: they spread along the sides of heathy mountains, or resort to sandy shores, and inlets of the sea, where insect food abounds, and the snow soon melts. The tempest-loving curlew, companion of storms and winds, is here with the common woodcock. The redwing arrived a short time before, in company Author of "Modern Painters."

went, and months in their distinctive character had each some ministry of blessing to fulfil.

Beautiful they are in spring, in summer, and in autumn: even now, that winter has wrapt them in snow, they are still beautiful; and I have thought them so when not a leaf was heard to rustle on the trees, and when the heavens were gray with clouds; for then, amid the deep beech woods, and on the common, I have seen such traces of love, beneficence, and wisdom, that my heart bas glowed within me; and among them I have often listened to that small still voice, which seems to speak throughout the universe. It spake to Adam in the earliest spring-tide of the world: it speaks to you, reader, of whatever rank you are, whether among the great ones of the earth, or among those who assimilate in outward station to him who had not where to lay his head. It tells somewhat of the laws by which myriads are regulated, of the instincts by which they are impelled; con cerning that Almighty Being who has placed you in this fair world to contemplate and adore his greatness. Happy are you, if you confess him in his works, the Creator in things created; yet even these are but a little portion of his wonders. We now see them as through a darkened glass; and hardly with searching can we comprehend a few of the most obvious; but a period will arrive when the veil shall be removed, when the understanding shall be opened to comprehend the glories and the wonders of creation, when the redeemed ones will know even as they are known.

you

Obtain, dear reader, a foretaste of these plea

sures: endeavour to know something of his works, who has created and sustains you. Listen not to the narrow counsels of those who unthinkingly assert that a taste for them will militate against such knowledge as alone can make you wise unto salvation. Patriarchs and prophets rejoiced in the works of nature. David spoke of them in strains of gratitude and adoration: your Lord has told you to observe the flowers of the fieid, the birds that fly along the heavens: he illustrates many an important truth by referring to a grain of corn, a vine, a mustard-seed; and will you disregard him? Let it be daily your delight to trace his beneficence in the visible creation, to adore and to acknowledge him in all his works; but stop not here: there are greater things than these, even that love to fallen man, of which the driving shower and loud wind in this dull season, the bright flowers of advancing spring, summer's cloudless skies, and the rich fields of autumn may forcibly remind you*.

GOD'S WAYS VINDICATED IN THE RE-
MOVAL OF A FAITHFUL SERVANT.
A DIFFICULTY to be cleared. And it is done by
regarding God acting as a sovereign. True, the
faithful teacher is cut off in the verdure of his life:
John Baptist was but thirty years of age. True,
he was able and very willing to call sinners to
repentance: All men counted John that he was
a prophet indeed." And oftentimes the faithful
and true Witness spake honourably of him,com-
paring him to a bright and benignant star, dis-
pensing by his preaching light around, and lead-
ing by his holy life his hearers in the way of
holiness. Your minister was only forty-two.
He was able and very willing to point his fellow-
sinners to the Lamb. The Spirit has sealed the
truths he preached: some now bend with him
before the throne; and many, in remembrance of
his doctrine and manner of life, are on the path-
way to the better country. And alas! “ I am
distressed for thee, my brother: very pleasant
hast thou been unto me." Too close is the resem-
blance here: your lips are closed in silence, and
your warm heart is chilled by the hand of death:
your voice, which filled this spacious building, is
hushed: your lamp is broken; and in the church-
yard, close by your garden-gate, you lie

"Disarm'd, disabled, like a wretch that's gagg'd,
And cannot tell his ills to passers by."

But, my beloved, perplexing as this dispensation is, is there no solution to the difficulty! Whose hand hath done it? I gather a sufficient answer in the silent, mourning congregation falling down, and seeming to say, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away blessed be the name of the Lord."

Yes, herein God has acted as a sovereign: we

are absolutely and entirely his; and he has a right to do what he will with his own: "Behold, he taketh away; who can hinder him? Who will say unto him, What doest thou?" But we should be careful not to confound the sovereignty of God with mere wilfulness. Whatever he does, he does it because it seemeth good in his sight. He forms no design but such as infinite benevolence approves. Your dear pastor's death is an act of counsel and prudence in the blessed God: his decease has happened at the fittest juncture for his church's good and his own glory; and, far from impeaching his goodness or his wisdom, far from daring to arraign his spotless sovereignty, we feel the difficulty altogether lessened as we join in the language of our Lord: "Even so, Father; for so it seemeth good in thy sight."

Again, the difficulty is cleared by regarding God interposing for his servant's good. He may have escaped impending evils. The great adversary may have been long employed in preparing a net for his feet; and, to escape the meshes of that fatal snare, the " prey is delivered," and placed far from the power of temptation. Our God, who is wise in heart as well as mighty in strength, saw afar the rising tempest, and has moored the endangered vessel in tranquil waters: the husbandman foresaw the coming blast, and hastened to house his pleasant plant. "The righteous is taken away from the evil to come." Weep ye not for the dead, nor bemoan him;" but weep for him that escapeth death, and is still exposed to the snares and sorrows of an evil world.

"O think that all his pains are fled,

His toils and sorrows closed for ever; While he, whose blood for man was shed, Has placed upon his servant's head A crown that fadeth never."

Say not, then, the faithful servant's death is premature. His Master has seen his labours; "labours more abundant" in the sanctuary, the schools, the cottage lecture, and from house to house; labours which have been so ceaseless, that for seven years he has known no single sabbath's rest; and from the out-door labour of the field his considerate Lord has taken him to in-door service. And not only so: those only live who live to good purpose; and no man, looking on this church and congregation, this Sunday-school, and number of devout communicants, will say of the now dead minister, he lived not balf his days. The servant who has done the work assigned him by his Muster has lived long enough: "I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do," said the great Servant of the covenant (who died in the bloom of perfect manhood); " and now I am no more in the world, but I come to thee;" member it is enough for the disciple that he be and, verily, the difficulty is cleared when we reas his Master, and the servant as his Lord."

And also the difficulty is cleared by regarding God searching the hearts of the congregation. This afflictive dispensation is meant to try, among other graces, your faith, your love to Christ, your weanedness from human helps, your patience, resignation. It should lead to that needful, but constantly neglected, work-self-examination. Say, has a fervid preacher been run

after for his boldness? Has the warm and energetic sermon been listened to with delight, and yet no saving change wrought in the life, no real impression sealed upon the heart? Ah, it was said to the prophet who seeth not as man seeth : "Lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument; for they hear thy words, but they do them not." Has a vigilant and faithful monitor been unheeded, undervalued? O, if the remark of one of our divines be just, that "a faithful minister being taken away before the age of three-score is taken in judgment," it may well cause deep searchings of heart among those who hear me. The faithful steward has gone in with his accounts, his calls from this pulpit, his warnings, his invitations, his exhortations, given as a friend, as a watchman, as a father. Širs, there is yet a voice that cries it makes use of my yet articulating tongue. Hark! it is a voice that speaks from the churchyard; and it calls upon you to commune with your hearts. "What answer," says your silent minister, "what answer will you give to him that sent me? Have I not with wisdom and faithfulness preached Christ, proclaiming him in the dignity of his person, in the glory of his character, in the condescension of his grace? Have I not set before you the wonders of his love, the efficacy of his sufferings, the prevalency of his intercession? told you his ability to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him?" Who retired from the church to reflect, to pray over the sermon? Who turned to God? embraced his Son? obeyed the gospel? O infinite mercy! if by any means, yea, even by the early death of the faithful teacher, God will enter a congregation with a heart-searching light like this! How shall we escape," let every conscience say, "if we neglect so great salvation?"

Thus, then, regarding God acting as a Sovereign, interposing for his servant's good, searching the hearts of the congregation, the difficulty has been cleared.

The Cabinet.

THE BELIEVER'S RESORT IN TROUBLE.-In the world's eye that man is the wisest who has the most expedients. But the believer is taught far differently he runs to the throne of grace, and gets, like Habakkuk, upon his watch-tower. He goes to God with the promise in his hand, as one goes to the bank for payment, saying, "This has been by me some time; but now it is due. Thou saidst, Call upon me in the time of trouble; and I will deliver thee.'"-Rev. R. Cecil.

Poetry.

HYMN

FOR A SUNDAY-SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY.

(For the Church of England Magazine.)

IN mercy, heavenly Father,

Thy children deign to hear, While round thy throne they gather, With hymns of praise and prayer:

For mercies past they bless thee,

And now for time to come
In humble prayer address thee:
Lord, hear in this thy dome.
We come to thee, confessing

How oft we've gone astray,
How much we need thy blessing
To keep us in thy way.

O, then, vouchsafe to guide us,
With all a shepherd's care,
Where ill shall ne'er betide us
Nor sin our hearts ensnare.
Amid those pastures feed us,
Which ever verdant grow;
And homeward gently lead us,
By the still waters' flow:
Our fainting spirits cheering
With the accents of thy voice,
That we, no danger fearing,
May in thy fold rejoice.

Thy presence thus attending,
And shelt'ring us from harm;
Like little lambs depending

Upon their shepherd's arm,
We shall at last be guided

To a better fold above, Find all we need provided, And rest, no more to rove. O gathered then before thee,

A bright and happy throng, With angels we'll adore thee

In a nobler, sweeter song! We'll praise the love which sought us, When in sin we loved to roam, And through the desert brought us To Canaan's happy home.

St. Augustine's, Liverpool.

SACRED SONNETS.

No. XVIII.

J. H. J.

(For the Church of England Magazine.) "In the Lord put I my trust. Now say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain."-PSALM XI. 1. Far o'er the mountain's towering peak, along Thro' the rich sky, mid floating clouds of light, Filling the air with thy sweet burst of song, Ilow glorious and how joyous is thy flight! How glad thy boundless track yon heavens among! Thy voice, O skylark! seems to seek alone To pour its music near Jehovah's throne. Gazing on thee, ennobling thoughts and strong Fill with resistless might the sinking breast, Bidding it, fearless, seek those regions blest, Wherein no darkening powers oppress with gloom, And while on earth to place all trust above, And fix unswerving hope on Jesu's love, Thro' whom alone our daily blessings come.

Llangynwyd Vicarage.

M. C. L.

London: Published for the Proprietors by EDWARDS and HUGHES, 12, Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.

PRINTED BY JOSEPH ROGERSON,

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