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Righteousness, murmurs, as it glides, of an heavenly origin, are the still depths which have no other name than "Perfect peace." They are the water which the Saviour gives, and in the christian soldier they were "a well of water, springing up into everlasting life." Christ in making his will forgot not the weakest believer; and the soldier had discovered in it a clause which bequeathed to him a parting, a precious legacy, “Peace I leave with you." The life which he lived was by faith in the Son of God; and though "in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ," while longing still further to glorify Him on the earth, he could with patience wait and say, "All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change comes." His letters home breathe the same "cheerful, manly, and pious" spirit; and as true religion will vindicate its worth in spite of all opposition, and the surpassing excellency of the christian character be admired and honoured, so the consistent course of this christian soldier failed not to witness for Christ, and to excite in the breasts of all, esteem—of some, emulation.

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"Fear not for me," he writes, "I am safe in my Saviour's arms; I know it; I feel it; for life or for death." Nor was this an idle boast. Awful were the times for the unconverted, the undecided, the unregenerate! Nothing" was there (to use his own words) "but death, death on every side." Hourly, like another hell, did the gloomy hospitals enlarge themselves to receive the suffering body, often too sure a prelude to intenser torments. O what mingled feelings must have centered in that soldier's breast, as he beheld the fast-multiplying victims of disease and war, and laboured prayerfully, "if by any means he might save some." An hospital of patients! O what a field for Christ-like devotedness! What an arena on which to confront Satan, and to win souls! Souls for whom Christ died! Here lay the irresistible attraction of these priceless purchases! Could aught then avail to deter the labour of love? could the utmost power of the evil one stay the flow of holy comfort and "strong consolation"? Nay, though with some it was "the hour and power of darkness;" though ten-fold strong seemed the iron yoke of the god of this world, there were those whose hearts throbbed and eyes wept, as they heard tell of "the balm in Gilead," and the "Physician there," and who gently fell asleep murmuring the life-restoring name of Jesus. The prayer of faith hallows the chamber of death, and many a bleeding heart becomes the Spirit's temple. But the strong and healthy were his constant care. Grouped within that frail tent -their eyes fixed upon one who reads aloud his message from heaven-are an earnest, likeminded officer band. Sweet, they

feel, is the communion of saints on earth, foretaste of an eternal intercourse!

Nor were the cold picket nights, and the gloomy trenches, void of all pleasurable reminiscences. When thus alone, his Saviour had often been very near, and the bright stars in the sky above led him, as he tells us, to contemplate the babe at Bethlehem and the crucified at Calvary. Who shall measure the amount of comfort and edification drawn in the dead of night from the word of his heavenly Father, as its precious promises shone forth in the lurid light of the watch-fire?

Who shall set a limit to the valuable agency of those silent messengers, which he daily distributed in large numberstheir burthen, "Come to Jesus;" their aim, the eternal happiness, the everlasting well-being of immortal man? Reader, is the chain of evidence complete, or want you further proof? Another link shall be added; it shall witness to the firmness of his faith, the confidence of his hope, and the warmth of his love; it shall speak in the closing words of his last letter on earth. "Jesus is near, and very precious to my heart and soul."

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"The battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood."

"The battle is set in array;" "the host goeth forth to the fight;" obstinate is the dreadful struggle, and the slain fall fast and thick. How fares it with our soldier? Shrinks he from that death which he had faced unflinchingly, when presented to him in the more lingering forms of fever and disease? No; little recks he how the warfare close, and the battle of a life-time end! "Sudden death" he feels to be "sudden glory." Is he to live ?-it is Christ! Is he to die?—it is gain! He has no will but God's; the issue he refers to him. Is it fancy, or is there in truth the thrilling echo of the home-call; yes, it comes nearer; it speaks of a finished strife—a fought fighta victory won; it tells of dismissal-promotion; it promises a rest-a haven-a crown! Death has seized its prey; yet "in death the glazing eye is illumined by that better hope." "The stricken warrior" falls; his death is glorious and devoted; his life is lost in saving the lives of his countrymen. But the heavenly call has reached him; he hears, and with joy acknowledges the summons. 'Cry unto him that his warfare

is accomplished!"

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Unconverted reader! Anxiety about your eternal state prompts me to add a parting word. You have read, perhaps with some pleasure, this slight sketch of one of the Lord's servants. You have watched the bedside of holy faith, and mar

velled at the scene which met you-a soldier not only calm amid hospital horrors, but pointing the dying to the only Saviour, bidding them "keep the crimson cross full in view." You have been astonished, as fresh incidents in his self-denying life testified to the reality of his religion. You might have looked in upon "the memorable guard-room," and where oaths and profanity were once fearfully common, have heard "the rustling of tracts," and the words of life, and the voice of prayer. You have marked the blaze of the watch-fire light up the sacred page; and, though howling winds in stormy gusts assailed the lowly tent, you have heard, above all, converse of man with man, such as you could not understand, for it was "in heaven." Lastly, you have shuddered at the final tragedy, and marvelled at the man who could glory in the immediate prospect of death! I will tell you of

something far more wonderful, far more unaccountable, far more terrible than anything which has as yet arrested you. Listen! In one short half-hour, perhaps in less, the remembrance of the fearful truths of death and eternity will have vanished, I fear, from your mind; all better feelings which may have arisen will be stifled; you will forget the Christian in the soldier-the man of God in the model of humanity; and all the effect produced, by the life of this servant of Christ, will be powerless. Powerless, did I say? Alas! sinner, would that it did not embitter the dregs of your cup! But it will! It will double your guilt before God that you have slighted his Spirit, speaking through the life of his servant-that you reject Him and the blood of His Son-that for " one morsel of meat," one moment of earth, you are mad enough to sell your heavenly "birthright," and for one hour of "the pleasures of sin" to barter your never-dying soul! Awful delusion! Reader, call not this interference. Can I see you going down quick into hell, and not warn you? I cannot! God in his mercy awaken you, or you are lost! Rouse yourself and cry mightily to Him! But now! Still may the door of mercy stand open! Still may the blood of the Lamb wash you! Still may the Spirit of truth sanctify you! But cry now! So death, whenever it comes, wherever it strikes you—in the house, in the fight, in the field—may but set free the waiting spirit and speed you to your rest!

J. F. SHAW, BOOKSELLER, SOUTHAMPTON ROW, AND
PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON; AND

W. INNES, Bookseller, SOUTH HANOVER STREET, EDINBURGH.

J. & W. RIDER, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close, London.

SCARCELY anything is more obvious, or the subject of more frequent remark, than the intensity of men's desire for gain. Wealth is regarded by multitudes as the supreme good, for the attainment of which they are willing to endure all imaginable toil, and to make the greatest sacrifices of convenience and ease. Too frequently its pursuit is permitted to absorb the mind to such a degree, that the claims of duty are slighted, salvation is neglected, and the soul is left to perish.

Our Lord observed this tendency in his own day, and knew that it would be the tendency of men in every age. He therefore, on one occasion, placed in the balance a soul and a world, and supposing a man to acquire the whole world-a thing absolutely impossible-he asked, what better he would be if his soul were lost:-"WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT A MAN, IF HE SHALL GAIN THE WHOLE WORLD, AND LOSE HIS OWN SOUL?"

The first thing which this solemn question implies is, that the soul is of unspeakable worth. That must be inconceivably precious for which the whole world can furnish no equivalent. A few considerations may serve to illustrate this momentous truth.

Think of its vast capabilities of enjoyment. It is capable of three kinds of enjoyment-the intellectual, the emotional, and the religious. Formed in the image of its Maker, it is capable of knowledge, and reason, and thought. Communicating with the external world by means of the senses, it can secure an extensive acquaintance with the works of God. It can count the stars which bespangle the firmament, can estimate their distances and their magnitude, and can ascertain the laws by which the regularity and harmony of their revolutions are maintained; it can make itself acquainted with the various forms of sentient and vegetable existence which exist on this globe of ours; it can descend into the bowels of the earth, and read in successive strata the history of changes successively undergone; it can ponder the records of the past, and derive from them instruction and delight; and, besides, it can elaborate for itself mighty thoughts, the product of comparison and reflection, and revel in the beautiful creations of imagination and fancy. Then, too, the soul is

capable of affection; and who has not felt the happiness which springs from pure and rightly regulated love? Besides, it is capable of religion. It is in that service, indeed, that both its intellectual powers and its affections were intended to find their highest exercise, and therefore it is from religion that there proceeds the highest enjoyment. No language can describe the present happiness which springs from that source. But it is revealed in the word of God, that beyond the present and the earthly there is a world where the facilities of happiness will be inconceivably enlarged; where knowledge will be perfect; where the affections will be all centred on what is truly worthy; whilst religion, including alike love, contemplation, obedience, worship, will be the grand employment of all, and the spring of continual progress and unutterable joy. What a precious thing that soul must be which is endowed with such capabilities, and for which there is provided a sphere in which those capabilities will find such full and perfect exercise !

But whilst it is susceptible of so large a measure of enjoyment, it is, on the other hand, susceptible of a large amount of misery. So intolerable have men felt the pressure of mental suffering, that, in some cases, reason has been dethroned; whilst, in others, rather than endure it, they have rushed unbidden into the presence of their Judge. "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear?" And who can conceive the anguish of the spirit when it is not only wounded by remorse, but also exposed to the direct and terrible visitations of the wrath of God?

And then the soul is immortal. We need not insist, in proof of the soul's immortality, on the argument from analogy, though the fact that nothing material is, properly speaking, destroyed, furnishes a strong presumption that the thinking spirit will survive the dissolution of the bodily frame; nor do we dwell on the fact that the persuasion has been cherished by almost every nation, and throughout all time;-we come at once to the Bible. It is unquestionably the doctrine of revelation, that, for weal or woe, the soul must live for ever. The doctrine is not so much affirmed, as implied. It is blended with the promises of future blessedness and the threatenings of future woe. Both are alike declared to be, in every case, everlasting, and of course the inference of the soul's immortality is irresistible. Now it is its immortality, taken in connection with its capabilities of enjoyment, that especially stamps its worth. It would be unspeakably precious if it were to live only for a few brief ages, and then to sink into

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