amongst them. He has not said to the seeking seed of Israel, Seek ye my face in vain. How pleasing it is to the Lord when we are enabled, in spite of an ensnaring world, to erect an altar to Him in our house, and say with Joshua, As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. Call the servants together, read a portion of Scripture, and go to prayer. If you have not yet been able to do this, I hope you will do it. Let the wicked laugh; let them call you by what names they may; be not afraid, for more are they who are for you, than those who are against you. You have all the saints on earth, and all the saints in glory, and all the angels in heaven, and best of all, God Himself on your side. And if God be for you, who can be against you? You fight under a good Captain, the Captain of your salvation, who will make you more than conqueror. I would earnestly recommend to you extempore prayer. Lay aside your forms of prayer, and the Lord Himself will teach you to pray from the heart. The blessed Spirit has promised to help our infirmities in prayer."

Among the first general objects which enlisted her Christian sympathies and efforts, was the spiritual condition of her own native isle. In St. George, the metropolis of the Bermudas-a beautiful group of islands bestudding the bosom of the Atlantic ocean-there still resided her mother, and a wide circle of kindred and friends. God had done much, in point of natural scenery and salubrity of climate, for the Bermudas. Few spots in this beautiful, though fallen creation, concentrate so much varied loveliness, and of so high a tone, as do these isles of the sea. Poetry, in some of her sweetest, if not her most truthful strains, has often sung their praises; while history, with perhaps more stern fidelity, has awarded them an honourable page in its no less interesting annals. Nor to poetry and history alone are the Bermudas indebted for their fame. Invalids from distant climes, attenuated by disease, and abandoned by hope, who have repaired to these islands, seeking but to eke out an enfeebled existence yet a little longer, and to meet death with mitigated suffering, have, beneath their soft skies, and fanned by their balmy breezes, been restored to perfect health; and lived, either to settle permanently in the island, or to return to the homes they expected to have quitted for ever. Nor were the Bermudas less renowned for the gener ous kindness and boundless hospitality of their native inhabitants, than for the romantic loveliness of their scenery. No

consumptive ever landed upon their shores in quest of health —no tourist ever came to explore their beauties—no wayfaring mariner was ever stranded upon their rocks, who met not here a friend, and found not here a home. The only rivalry that existed was,-who should show most kindness to the stranger.*

But lovely and fertile as these fairy islands were, and still more attractive the native character of their inhabitants, the early history of the Bermudas does not appear to furnish any clear or authentic evidence that evangelical religion had ever very extensively prevailed. And yet, if we may credit Andrew Marvel, of the Commonweath-one of the greatest wits and statesmen of his age, and a Christian poet, too, of no mean worth-it would seem that the Bermuda islands afforded an asylum to some of the Puritans from the tyranny which drove so many to seek in other lands the liberty of conscience denied them in their own. But, if this be true, the piety which

* Waller, in his "Summer Islands," a poem of exquisite beauty, thus portrays this salubrious clime:—

"For the kind spring (which but salutes us here)
Inhabits these, and courts them all the year;
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live,
At once they promise, and at once they give.

So sweet the air, so moderate the clime,

None sickly lives, or dies before his time.

Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncursed,
To show how all things were created first."

+ This historical fact is embodied in the following poem, entitled Bermudas," composed by Andrew Marvel, and published about the year 1661. It is supposed to be a chant of the Puritans who fled to these islands:

"Where the remote Bermudas ride

In the ocean's bosom, unespied,
From a small boat that rowed along,
The list'ning winds received this song:
"What should we do but sing His praise,
That led us through the wat'ry maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?

Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks,

That lift the deep upon their backs,

He lands us on a grassy stage,

Safe from the storm's and prelates' rage;

He gave us this eternal spring,
Which here enamels everything;

these holy refugees enkindled, in course of time, either expired altogether, or lived only in the smouldering embers which faintly glowed beneath the cold, deadening forms of a prevalent but lifeless religion. Yet God had purposes of mercy towards these islands, which He was about now to unfold.

It was on the 15th of March, 1748, that the Rev. GEORGE

And sends the fowls to us in care,
On daily visits through the air;
He hangs in shades the orange bright,
Like golden lamps in a green night;
And does in the pomegranate close
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.
He makes the figs our mouths to meet,
And throws the melons at our feet:
But apple plants of such a price,
No tree could ever bear them twice.
With cedars, chosen by His hand,
From Lebanon, he stores the land,
And makes the hollow seas that roar,
Proclaim the ambergrease on shore.
He cast (of which we rather boast)
The gospel's pearl upon this coast,
And in their rocks for us did frame
A temple where to sound His name.
Oh! let our voice His praise exalt,
Till it arise at heaven's vault,
Which, then (perhaps) rebounding, may
Echo beyond the Mexique Bay.'

"Thus sang they in the English boat,
An holy and a cheerful note;

And all the way, to guide their chime,

With falling oars they kept the time."

Works of Andrew Marvel, by Captain Edmund Thompson, 3 vols. 1776.

There is, perhaps, no man whose name deserves to be held in more sacred veneration, by those to whom the memory of the Puritans is dear, than ANDREW MARVEL. He occupied an illustrious niche in the history of his times. His father was a clergyman of great learning and of high repute. He met an affecting and untimely death. Crossing a river with a bridal party, for whom he was about to officiate, a sudden squall arose, and the entire group, including the young and beautiful bride, perished. The son, Andrew, who appeared to inherit much of his father's gifts, was educated at Cambridge, and afterwards represented Forkingtonupon-Hull in Parliament, was secretary to the English Embassy at Constantinople, and Assistant Latin Secretary to Milton, under Cromwell. To him the blind bard was indebted for the early popularity of his sublimo poem. Finding "Paradise Lost," the copyright of which Milton

WHITFIELD, the great apostle of his age, landed in Bermuda. He had arrived from New York, with impaired health, borne down with anxiety and toil, seeking amidst the loveliness and tranquillity of these enchanting isles a few weeks' bodily and mental rest from his exhausting labours. An entire stranger, ill, and depressed, his reception was worthy of the people, and soothing to his lone feelings; it was kind, sympathizing, and hospitable. Whitfield was pleased with the beauties of the place, and charmed with the simplicity and friendship of the inhabitants. A rapid survey of the spiritual condition of the population was sufficient to convince this zealous minister of Christ that an extended field of evangelical labour, white to the harvest, was spread out before him. Enfeebled by illness, and oppressed by care, though he was, his mighty soul was stirred within him, and he yearned to proclaim throughout that lovely group the unsearchable riches of Christ. Scarcely allowing himself a week's repose, he commenced his mission. The pulpits of the parish churches being closed against him by a law of the island, which required a license from home, and which the Governor would fain have relaxed in his favour, he preached to large, attentive, and affected auditors in the Presbyterian pulpit, in the Town-house of St. George's, in private dwellings, and in the open air. The immediate result was what might have been anticipated from the ministry of Whitfield. Everywhere from the highest to the lowest,-from the Executive to the most ignorant slave in the island,—society was moved to its centre, as by one mighty impulse, on the subject of religion. A general and powerful awakening transpired. Crowds were attracted to his ministry—his word was with power--and multitudes were profoundly impressed, and not a few hopefully converted. Such an outpouring of God's Spirit, such a revival of evangelical religion, those

had just sold for fifteen pounds, remained unhonoured and unknown, Marvel wrote a complimentary poem on its publication, which at once unveiled its beauties to the undiscerning eye of the public, and brought it into notice. He was a man of great integrity of principle, and of extraordinary moral courage. Of him it was said by an historian of his day, "He had the courage to attack arbitrary government in the reign of a tyrant, and to attempt to defend the Protestant church when the head of it died a Papist." Some poet thus refers to two of the greatest men of his day:

"'Tis Marvel braves the wicked acts of kings;
But what the Muses dictate-Milton sings.'

islands had, perhaps, never before witnessed. Amongst the first to welcome Mr. Whitfield to Bermuda, and to offer the hospitality of his house, was Dr. GEORGE FORBES, the grandfather of the subject of this memoir. He received the interesting stranger to his home, paid him the most courteous attention, and employed his influence in obtaining the Council Chamber for his use, in which the Governor, several of the council, the clergymen of the parish, and a number of the townspeople assembled in the most devout order to hear the message of salvation from his lips. The reader will gather a better idea of the remarkable success of Mr. Whitfield's labours in Bermuda, during which he preached generally twice a day for a month, from the extracts given below, selected from his own private journal.*

* "Wednesday, April 6. After sermon Dr. FORBES and Mr. P, the Collector, desired me to favour them and the gentlemen of the town with my company to dine with them. I accepted the invitation. The Governor, the President, and Judge Bascombe were there. All wondered at my speaking so freely and fluently without notes. At table his Excellency introduced something of religion, by asking me the meaning of the word hades.' Several other things were started about free will, Adam's fall, predestination, &c., to all which God enabled me to answer so pertinently, and taught me to mix the utile and dulce so together, that all at table seemed highly pleased, shook me by the hand, and invited me to their respective houses. The Governor, in particular, asked me to dine with him on the morrow; and Dr. Forbes, one of his particular intimates, invited me to drink tea in the afternoon. I thanked all, returned proper respects, and went to my lodgings with some degree of thankfulness for the assistance afforded me, but awed before God at the consideration of my unspeakable unworthiness. In the afternoon, about five o'clock, I expounded the parable of the prodigal son to many people at a private house, and in the evening had liberty to speak freely and closely to those that supped with me. Oh, that this may be the beginning of good gospel times to the inhabitants of this town! Lord, teach me to deal prudently with them, and cause them to melt under Thy word.

"Sunday, 17. God still magnifies His power and goodness more and more. This morning we had a pleasing sight in Mr. Paul's meetinghouse. I began to preach, and the people to be affected as in days of old at home. Indeed, the prospect is encouraging. 'Praise the Lord, O my soul.'

May 7. In my conversation, these two days, with some of my friends, I was diverted much in hearing several things that passed among the poor negroes since my preaching to them last Sunday.

"One of the number, it seems, said, that if the book I preached out of was the best book that was ever bought, and came out of London, she was sure it had never all that in it which I spoke to the negroes.' Tho