myself to a man upon his knees before the king, pleading for his life, or returning thanks for some great favour; in the midst of his speech he sees a butterfly; he immediately breaks off, leaves his speech unfinished, and runs away to catch the butterfly. Such a man would be thought mad; and my vile thoughts prove that I am not free from spiritual insanity. Is it so with you? I believe it is at some times, and in some degree, though I hope you are not so bad as I. As we all spring from one stock, though our features differ, depravity is the common family likeness which runs through the whole species; but Jesus came into the world to save sinners; he died for us, and "His hands infected nature cure, With sanctifying grace." We hope in a little time to see him as he is. Then, and not before, we shall be completely like him and while we are here, his precious blood cleanses us from all sin, and makes our defective services acceptable to God.-John Newton. the word Whosoever. If God had said that there was mercy for Richard Baxter, I am so vile a sinner that I would have thought He meant some other Richard Baxter; but when He says whosoever, I know that includes the worst of all Richard Baxters." TWO FATHERS TO BE PLEASED. THE following incident, related by Rev. Samuel Kilpin, a Baptist minister at Bedford, of his son, may be instructive to some of our young readers who are troubled when they have offended their earthly parents. Mr. Kilpin says:— On one occasion when he had offended me, I deemed it right to manifest displeasure; and when he asked a question about the business of the day, I was short and reserved in my answers to him. An hour or more elapsed. The time was nearly arrived when he was to repeat his lessons. He came into my study and said, Papa, I cannot learn my lessons except you are reconciled; I am very sorry I have offended you; I hope you will forgive me; I think I shall never offend again." 66 I replied, "All I want is to make you sensible of your fault; when you acknowledge it, you know I am easily reconciled with you." "Then, papa," said he, "give me the token of reconciliation, and seal it with a kiss." The hand was given, and the seal most heartily exchanged on each side. "Now," exclaimed the dear boy, "I will learn Greek and Latin with any body;" and was hastening to his study. "Stop, stop," I called after him; "have you not a heavenly Father? If what you have done has been evil, He is displeased, and you must apply to Him for forgiveness." With tears starting in his eyes, he said," Papa, I went to Him first; I knew that except He was reconciled I could do nothing." As the tears fast rolled down his cheek, he added, "I hope He has forgiven me; and now I am happy! I never had occasion to speak to him again in tones of disapprobation. Obituary. MRS. SARAH LORD, OF STACKSTEADS. THE subject of this brief sketch enjoyed in early life the advantages arising from the instructions and example of pious parents. Her father, the late Mr. D. Greenwood, (a notice of whose death appeared in the Primitive Church Magazine for January, 1867), was for several years a deacon of the church at Waterbarn; and her mother, who was a member of the same church, departed this life in holy peace and triumph, surrounded by a numerous family, in the month of July, 1863. As in many other instances, so in the case before us, the seed thus early deposited, watered by Divine influence, brought forth the fruits of early piety. On one occasion during her last illness, our friend referred with deep emotion and fervent gratitude to the spiritual benefits which she had derived from the efforts of her beloved mother and her maternal grandmother, to lead her while yet a little child to the feet of Jesus. While on a visit to the latter, she (the grandmother) had often taken her little grandchild by the hand and led her to her chamber, where simple but earnest prayers were offered on her behalf, and these prayers and the instructions which she had received had never been entirely forgotten. In 1851, shortly after the writer's settlement at Waterbarn, our dear young friend came forward with another to tell what great things God had done for her soul, and to seek admission to the fellowship of the church. On September 28th, when about seventeen years of age, she was baptised by the writer at Irwell Terrace Chapel, Bacup, the friends then meeting in that place, together with those at Waterbarn constituting at that time one church. From that day to the period of her decease, her conduct and conversation were such as to adorn her Christian profession. As a child she learned to shew "piety at home," endearing herself both to her family and to all who knew her by the meekness and gentleness of her character. In the month of November, 1856, she was united in marriage to Mr. David Lord, and her subsequent career both as a wife and as a mother afforded a beautiful illustration of the blessed influence of early piety in fitting its possessor for the duties and responsibilities of domestic life. The writer recalls with pleasure the happy seasons enjoyed in spiritual conversation and prayer with her and her family at the domestic hearth. Her chief delight was in speaking or hearing about spiritual things, and however busily engaged in the concerns of her household, she would never permit these interviews to close without prayer. Her love to the house of God and to the services of the sanctuary was most ardent. Often in delicate health, yet her place in the house of God was never vacant, except when circumstances compelled her absence from it. Her prevailing desire was that her dear little ones might be brought early to know and to love the Saviour. It was fondly hoped that her precious life might be spared until she had realised the fulfilment of her wishes.. But God in his mysterious but all wise Providence had decreed her early removal to another and a better world. In the early part of October, 1867, she gave birth to a twin son and daughter, and from the state of her health previously, great anxiety was felt by her friends as to the issue. Earnest prayers both in public and in private were offered for her recovery, and for a time we hoped, though almost against hope, that her life might yet be spared. At length, however, it became too evident that her life was drawing to a close; and though all the means which affection could dictate, or which medical skill could accomplish were unremittingly applied, her strength gradually but surely declined. It was under these circumstances that the gracious principles implanted in her heart by the Divine Spirit shone forth with resplendent lustre and beauty. From the very commencement of her illness she was enabled to repose with calm and holy confidence in the arms of her Saviour. At first there was a struggle in the maternal heart, and at times a pang of sorrow at the thought of leaving her two helpless babes and four other little ones bereft of the love and care which only a mother can bestow. But the sustaining and consoling grace of God enabled her to triumph even over this difficulty, and to say from her very heart, "Father, not my will, but Thine be done." In one of the frequent interviews which her pastor had with her she said, "I have felt it very hard work to leave my dear husband and children, but God has made me quite willing now to give them up into his hands. As for myself I have no fear of death; my path for some time past has been somewhat rough, but HE is making it smooth for me now." She then added with great emphasis, "But do not think that I am boasting of myself-I am nothing, nothing but a poor sinner saved by grace. I have nothing to rest upon but the precious blood and righteousness of Jesus Christ." As in health, so in sickness, her chief delight was in reading and hearing the word of God and in prayer. After every exercise of this kind she expressed her gratitude for our visits, and the holy pleasure and consolation which she derived from these precious seasons of communion with God. Tuesday, November 19th, was a day never to be forgotten by those who were privileged to visit her sick chamber. To all human appearance she was rapidly sinking in the arms of death. She herself also thought that her end was near at hand. In the possession of all her mental faculties (which continued unimpaired even to the last moment) she called her family around her. First she gave to each of her six little ones a mother's dying blessing, accompanied with a farewell present. Then she bid adieu to her beloved partner and her dear brothers and sisters, addressing them one by one in the most solemn and affectionate manner and expressing her hope that she might meet them all in heaven. Having thus "set her house in order," she 66 addressed herself to the solemn work before her. At times she appeared as if entirely absorbed in silent communion with God, giving expression occasionally to ejaculations such as these, "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." "Open, open the gates, and let a poor sinner in.' Then at intervals she would engage in brief conversation with her pastor and other friends, and request prayer to be offered on her behalf. On asking her if she felt quite happy and comfortable in the prospect of death, she replied, "There is no sting at all in it; it is all taken away." Thus the day passed, and towards midnight, to the surprise of all she appeared to rally a little. On the next day she enabled to converse with great freedom, and on referring to the blessed experience of the previous day she exclaimed, "I really thought that I was close by the gate of heaven, and waiting for it to be opened that I might enter in." A few more days however of toil and conflict were allotted her, and then the end came. As the outward man decayed, the inner man grew stronger and stronger. It was a privilege to sit by her bedside, to witness the holy joy, peace, and triumph, depicted in her very countenance, and to hear the expressions of joyous hope and lively confidence which fell from her lips. was On Friday, November 29th, 1867, the long expected day of deliverance dawned upon her soul. In answer to the enquiry of a beloved Christian friend, our senior deacon, who visited her during the morning, she expressed herself as being very comfortable and requested him to pray with her. In the afternoon one of her sisters heard her repeating the lines: "So fades a summer cloud away, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, Her remains were interred in the Bacup Cemetery, on December 4th. Her pastor, who had enjoyed her friendship upwards of sixteen years, and who feels a mournful pleasure in bearing this testimony to her Christian character, officiated on the solemn occasion. He also improved her death by a discourse founded on a passage selected by herself from 1 Cor. xv. 55-57. The sermon was preached first of all at Waterbarn (where our sister regularly worshipped) in the evening of Lord's Day, December 8th, and by special request was repeated on the two following Lord's Day evenings at Zion Chapel, Bacup, and at Waterfoot. On each occasion a large and deeply affected congregation attended. We earnestly pray that this brief record of her life and death may be blessed by the Holy Spirit of God to the conversion and salvation of others, and that our dear young friends especially may be constrained by the love of Christ to devote themselves, their all, to his service and praise. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth, yea, saith the spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them." Poetry. Waterbarn. JOHN HOWE. LYRICS FOR THE HEART.-" OUTSIDE THE DOOR." BY W. POOLE BALFERN. "Without are Dogs."-Rev. xxii. 15. THE night was dark, the winds blew cold, My feet were worn, my back was bare, I said, "O Jesus take me in, O shield me from the blast, Though I have oft thy mercy spurned, I heard a voice say, "take him in," My fears were gone, I shelter found, I saw His eyes-soft beaming love, He raised me and He healed my wound, I looked at Him, my heart was furled, I thought of all my sins and fears Outside that dreadful door; But now that He has smiled on me, I hope to live to make Him known,— VOL. XXV.-NO. CCXCI. WISHING FOR GRANDFATHER'S EYES. NEVER was little Myra better pleased than when going a walk with her grandfather; for he was so kind and gentle, and talked to her about the things they saw in so pleasant and cheerful a manner, that it was quite a treat to her. If they saw any ants at work, "Oh! oh!" he would say, "what makes you so busy, when none of you have any rent or tax to pay? But I see how it is; you are at work for one another. Remember, Myra, we must not be idle; for when we have nothing to do for ourselves, we may always help other people." If they saw a bee winging his way from flower to flower, he was almost sure to speak of it. "Well, Mr. Buzzabout, will you tell us what you are doing? But we understand it very well, and will learn a lessson from you. Mind, Myra, that as the bee gets honey from every flower, you and I get good from everything.” In this way Myra used to be entertained by her grandfather, who likened her to a fresh bud that would soon burst into a flower, and himself to a faded leaf which was almost ready to fall from the tree. One day, after Myra had been a pleasant walk with her grandfather, she sat down to do a little sewing with her mother, and then they talked together in the following manner :— “I wish I had grandfather's eyes, mother." "Do you, dear? I hardly think that he could spare them. But what can you possibly want with the eyes of your grandfather, Myra?" 66 Oh, if I had his eyes, I should see all that he sees when we are walking together; but now I cannot see half so much as he does." "No!-that is very strange, when you are young and he is old. He often says that his sight is not what it used to be; and then, you know, though the Bible is in large print, |