MR. SUMMERFIELD.

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Lord, but have never attained to that spiritual state of which St. Paul speaks, and which many Christians profess, namely, "rejoicing in tribulation."

MR. SUMMERFIELD. DEAR GERTRUDE,-I believe it is Rochfoucault who says that it is a sort of ingratitude to be in haste to At this time I knew nothing of Methodism. I had return an obligation; but I subscribe not to a senti- never been within the walls of one of their churches ment which would repress one of the best impulses of until I heard the sainted Summerfield in the city of our nature, and my heart thanked you kindly for your Baltimore, just before his ascension to glory. To say prompt and sympathetic "Response" to my poor lyric. that I was pleased with him would but faintly express And had I obeyed its first dictates, you would ere this my feelings. I went to hear him, impelled more, as it have received a written evidence of my gratitude. For were, by the current than by any better motive; for I as I laid aside the book, after the perusal of your lines, had no faith in popular preachers. I had generally found I said to myself, "To-morrow will I write to Gertrude,|| something artificial and unsound about them—some trick and thank her for her poetry, and seek to engage her of oratory that repelled me from the pulpit. But, O, in a correspondence." Alas, for this spirit of procras- how was I disappointed in Summerfield! The Methtination, when we know not what an hour may bring odist church in Light-street was filled to overflowing— forth! The promised morrow found me too indisposed not only the body of the house, but the galleries, the in body to arrange my thoughts, or wield my pen; and aisles, and the windows were full, and every little archithroughout the last week I have been suffering so se-tectural projection held a listener. Yet every thing verely with a sore throat as to incapacitate me for all was hush and orderly. Most of the multitude, I supmental exertion. And now, if I would communicate ||pose, had heard him before. Their hearts had felt the with you through the columns of the Repository, I have only time to offer you these few lines of explanation and apology, and to solicit of you the favor of a correspondence, not poetical, but rational and religious, embodying your own and the experience of others in their pilgrimage to Zion. And perchance my heart may become warmer, and my hopes more assured by communion with one whose spiritual lights have been so much greater than my own, and you may have the pure satisfaction of having aided me in my upward journey to that better land for which we are all striving, where the Christian warfare is ended, and where seraphic love glows in each bosom for evermore. O, for a heart to praise and pray,

Until the victory's won

That when we leave this house of clay,
We then may hear the Savior say,

"Enter ye in-well done!"

influence of his preaching, and they knew who they were expecting, and felt that it was good to wait his coming in silence. At length there was a gentle movement about the pulpit, and every eye was turned as he was put in at the window. He fell upon his knees, and for ten minutes a holy silence pervaded the house. When he arose, and a pale, delicate, fair-haired youth, of apparently not more than two or three and twenty, stood up to teach this vast multitude, I feared for his success; but my fears were unnecessary, and if I had known him before, I should have said unhallowed, for he had the preparation of the Spirit, and surely "he spake as never man spake" since the days of our Savior upon earth. To the most child-like simplicity he joined the zeal of the seraph. His text was, "Behold I stand at the door and knock;" and as he warmed with his subject his musical voice rose to a higher note, You know, my dear Gertrude, that I was educated his pale face became illuminated; and as he stretched an Episcopalian, and, all the early part of my life, forth his thin arms in his expostulation with his hearattended no other Church. Thither my mother's fam-ers, he looked not like a being of earth, but of heaven. ily went, and most of my friends and associates. I loved the pastor and people, and, in the language of the world, was happy. But when death entered our abode, and took away our dear mother, and I witnessed the composure with which she departed, leaning upon the arm of her Redeemer, I began to feel an awakened interest in the subject of religion-a desire to become fitted for a communion with those spirits in heaven, with whom I had never partaken of the cup of salvation upon earth; but while I was out of the Church a wall of partition seemed effectually to divide us, and I|| strove to make myself worthy of membership. I gave up all fashionable amusements, attended evening lectures, and soon joined myself to the people of the Lord, and felt comforted in having done what I considered my duty, but had no "joy in believing." And if this "joy" is the test of the true Christian, I am still in the "bonds of iniquity;" for in all my trials since and "God has given me my share"-I have often felt comforted in casting my burdens upon the

That day many hearts were opened at his call for the reception of the Holy Spirit. He was at this time in almost the last stage of consumption, fast ripening for glory, and was like the sun, which glows brighter at its setting. When I left the house, I thought if this be Methodist preaching, I desire often to hear it; but him I never heard again. It was his last sermon in Baltimore, and one of his latest upon earth.

Soon after this I removed to the southwest, where Methodism not only prevails, but has much talent and zeal enlisted in its support. But being myself a member of the Episcopal Church, and finding one of that denomination (a rare thing) in the village where I lived, I of course went there, reserving for myself the privilege of occasionally attending Methodist preaching. I soon became fond of their mode of worship, and preferred extemporary prayer to the Church service, which, beautiful as it is, has ever since appeared cold and formal in comparison. After vibrating between the two Churches for nearly a year, I felt it was

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THE MARYS AT THE CROSS.

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my duty to belong where I was most profited, and this || Jesus Christ. Many were there out of morbid curiosI knew to be under the ministration of the Methodists. ity. The fame of his mighty deeds and sinless life So I withdrew from the Protestant Episcopalians and were attractions to the crowd. Many were there out joined them. And surely there can be no higher order of hatred to the illustrious sufferer. They had long of Christian than a consistent, self-denying Methodist. thirsted for his life-now he was in their malignant And although I saw many, in the section of country power-no shield of protection around the Anointed where I united with them, that lived in violation of the of God while in the hands of sinful, cruel men. rules of the Discipline, yet it never unsettled my opin- These, his enemies, had falsified his reputation, proions. May I not hope, dear Gertrude, to hear from you claimed him a vile impostor, and now, with infernal through the pages of the next Repository? May you joy, they go to see his dying agony, crying, as they prosper, and be in health even as your soul prospereth!" hasten to Golgotha, "His blood be upon us, and upon AUGUSTA. our children." Many were there officially-the Roman soldiery-the officers that arranged the business of death, and the executioners with their hammers and their nails. But the Marys and the beloved John were there as his faithful and weeping friends. Their presence was the only bright gleam that flashed through the worse than Egyptian darkness that shrouded his dy"Now there stood by the cross of Jesus, his mother, and his ing hour. They had ascended Calvary, and were now mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magda-near the cross, to show how deeply they sympathized

Cincinnati, February, 1843.

Original.

THE MARYS AT THE CROSS.

lene."

with their Lord-that their love was unabated-their THE death of Jesus Christ is the most interesting attachment as great and as ardent as ever. When all and important event that ever transpired. His cross the universe seemed both to frown upon and to fight radiates light and life to a perishing world. His death against his person and mission, neither the cowardly is our life, our hope, and our salvation. After his mock flight of his professed friends, nor the reckless fury of trial and cruel scourging, in accordance with the clam- his inveterate enemies, moved the Marys. Amidst the orous demands of a frantic mob, he was delivered into midnight gloom that covered the earth, they gazed upon their hands to be crucified and slain. Amazing spec- the cross. When the solid rocks were rending, and the tacle! The Son of God, having voluntarily abdicated cross itself could scarcely stand on the quaking mount, his eternal throne in glory, encircled by all the holy they stood near. They left him not, though they intelligences of heaven, now, almost friendless and for-heard, with aching hearts, his plaintive, tremulous cry, saken, ascends the rugged steeps of Calvary. Peter "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" and the rest of the apostles, with one exception, all The Marys were by his cross as his public disciples. fled. But the Marys followed their Savior, and stood They were not prevented by cold expediency or pruby the cross. The shoutings of an infuriated multi-dence. As his soldiers, they were with the Captain of tude-the gleaming of Roman arms, and the fierce outbreakings of Jewish vengeance, daunted not these noble-these holy females. They, during the six dreadful hours, remained enchained to the sacred spot, witnessing the sorrows and death of the illustrious sufferer.

their salvation in the midst of his enemies, and in the thickest of the conflict. They stood by him, as he uncovered his bosom to receive the thunderbolts of his Father's wrath-as he encountered, in his own strength, the combined powers of darkness. They stood on the battle-field, when Bozrah's conqueror, with his vestments dipped in blood, carried trembling to the centre of the empire of hell, and bound the prince of darkness to the wheels of his victorious chariot.

It is probable that the Marys did not fully understand what the blessed Savior had foretold of his death and resurrection. But they had full confidence in his truth and grace, or they would not have followed him with tears to Calvary, or stood in the midst of appal- The Marys of Bethlehem, and Mary of Magdala, ling horrors so near his cross. It may be they did not were gloriously rewarded by being near the cross. recognize him as sealing their redemption with his They received his last look, big with boundless love blood; but they did see him sealing his gracious prom-and infinite benignity-heard his last words to the penises and his undoubted claims to Divinity. They may itent dying malefactor, and the solemn accents, "It is not have seen, while near his cross, the glittering sword finished," when he gave up the ghost. of divine justice piercing his heart, and the bursting phials of divine wrath overwhelming his soul; but after his glorious resurrection they understood it well. Yet there was something more than sympathy and ordinary gratitude that enchained the Marys to Calvary. It was unconquerable love for the sacred person of the bleeding sufferer, and its constraining power upon their hearts.

They were by his cross, as his faithful servants, to receive his instructions. Jesus publicly recognized them, notwithstanding the loud railing of the frantic mob, and the excrutiating agony he was enduring. He laid his last, his parting injunctions upon them, and doubtless they were faithfully observed. What a distinguishing exhibition of filial piety did Jesus exhibit! Behold, the Son of God, when dying for our sins

Multitudes attended the crucifixion of our Lord when performing the momentous work of our redemp

THE PEACE OF GOD.

THE METAPHYSICIAN.

Minister. "That must be an intricate game, judging them." from the deep attention you bestow on it."

L. (Slightly embarrassed,) "It is intricate; and per- timony of others, when you might have made your

L. "So it is accounted by many judicious persons." sume, stated facts."

L. "I suppose it is."

THE METAPHYSICIAN.

Min. "Then you have unwarrantably condemned us. I think, Mr. L., you should come to our meeting. We may surely claim that our trial, as the instigators and supporters of camp meetings, be according to the 'rules of evidence, which require' the best proof that the nature of the case admits."

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the horse and carriage to other hands, in a few minutes the "outer court" was passed, and the Doctor and his friend entered the area consecrated to the worship of Jehovah. In this was a very large assembly, standing in graceful order, and singing a hymn, which, after the manner of the Methodists, was "lined" by a minister who occupied a sheltered platform before them. The two thousand voices which made the music seemed like

L. "That is not unreasonable; and now I will either come to your meeting, or say no more on the subject || the spontaneous gushing forth of super-abounding joy. of disorder."

After dinner the clergymen departed. Mr. L. was surprised, not to say mortified, to find an "ignorant Methodist preacher" so well informed, and withal so shrewd in conversation, that even on topics concerning which he supposed clerical men knew very little, the argument was rather against himself.

"You caught a Tartar," said the Doctor, as the gentlemen withdrew, and left Mr. L. and his companion to trifle away another hour at chess.

The third day after this, as Mr. L. was walking in the yard, the Doctor rode up, and asked him if he would visit the camp ground.

L. "You are not serious?"

Prayer followed, and then those words,

"Content with beholding his face,

My all to his pleasure resigned,
No changes of season or place,

Can make any change in my mind,"

were poured out upon the depths around, and creation seemed to be hymning its thanksgivings to the great Author of life and its beatitudes.

The hymn closed. The congregation silently settled down into their seats, and the preacher who had so lately challenged the utility of chess, arose to address them. He named a familiar text, which, in its exposition and discussion, brought to view the depravity of the heart, and the necessity of an incarnate and cruci

Doctor. "Get into my carriage, and I will show fied Savior. He set forth man, in all his attributes, fair you."

and repulsive-in his guilt, shame, and misery, and in .L. "Then I answer no. I cannot ride in that direc- one other feature, which was almost new to Mr. L. tion. Any where else, if you please."

He represented this guilty being as absolutely helpless, Dr. "But they have got into difficulty with the row- unable to turn and do good works, "without the grace dies, and want your advice."

"Go, husband," said Mrs. L., who, overhearing the conversation, had come to the door, and was listening to the proposal with deep interest.

Mr. L. looked first at the Doctor and then at the door, as uncertain what to do, or whether either was in earnest.

L. "Doctor, you say they are in trouble."

Dr. "Yes; and they ought to be protected in their rights. I wish you would go over and help them."

L. "Well, this is the legitimate result of camp meetings. Yet, as you say, they have the right-that is, the legal right-to worship God, or Satan if they will, undisturbed. I will go with you in ten minutes."

of God by Christ preventing him, that he may have a good will, and working with him when he has that good will."

The discourse was not perfect. It had not that exact unity which is displayed in the sermons of Wesley, nor the inimitable simplicity which graces his masterly productions. Yet it was manly and convincing in thought and delivery, and so superior to Mr. L.'s ideas of "Methodist preaching," that he was taken wholly by surprise. He was compelled to acknowledge that not one written sermon in fifty from the trained theologians of the day possessed half the merit of this, what seemed to be, extempore discourse.

The preacher closed with a pathetic appeal to saints Mr. L. made a hasty preparation, took a seat in the and sinners, endeavoring to rouse the zeal of the forDoctor's carriage, and in one hour was, for the first mer and the fears of the latter. He was successful. time, in full audience of a camp ground. He had lived Amens, blessings, and halleluiahs, were intermixed with thirty-one years, much of the time in proximity to sighs, groans, and shrieks, until the voice of the preachsuch meetings; yet, though often urged, he had never er was drowned. Unable any longer to be heard, he fell before approached such a scene. As he neared the back from his station, and standing in the midst of ten encampment, his curiosity became intense. He leaned or twelve of his brethren, who had now risen to their forward in a listening attitude to catch the sound of feet, he remained, statue like, with his streaming eyes many voices which struck upon his ear. He expected and supplicating hands uplifted to heaven, and all the to witness the wildest disorder, and the most incoherent deep fervors of his soul beaming forth in his expressive ravings; but the distant voices which greeted him were features. In this posture there was nothing dramatic. all in concert and harmony. It was the sound of praise, It was evidently unpremeditated and spontaneous. Mr. swelling out from the midst of the forest in slow and L. felt it to be so. He had looked for greater extravawell distinguished measure, like pealing anthems from gances. But he expected to detect a fraud where he the groves of paradise. They stopped in the midst of now plainly perceived the convincing evidences of deep straggling parties of profane, vulgar men, whose ap- sincerity. He had never before witnessed a spectacle pearance almost justified Mr. L.'s pre-conceived no-to him so purely and movingly sublime. The holy tions of a camp meeting. But alighting, and leaving || man before him seemed gradually to be transformed in