LINES,

WRITTEN BY A MISSIONARY, ON THE DEATH OF HIS BELOVED WIFE.

YES, I observ'd the pang

Which almost rent thy heart; I saw thy tears,
When, for the cause of Christ and lost mankind,
Thou bad'st adieu to friends and kindred dear,
And travers'd sea and land at His behest.
Thy bosom was not steel'd against the claims
Of friendship sweet: no dark misanthropy
Had turn'd to gall the bliss of social life.
But, though encircled by pure mortal loves,—
And though soft friendship clain'd thee for her own,
And had united thee in strongest bonds

To friends of kindred minds,-thou wast content
To burst those ties;-or to suspend their force,
Till the bright hour which faith anticipates,
When souls cemented by the love of Christ
Shall reunite in endless amity.

But 'twas the love of Jesus, which at once
Constrain'd thee, and afforded sweet support.
When Jesus gave command, well pleas'd thou wert
Friends dearest to relinquish, and exchange
The social band for the drear wilderness;—
Dreary in view of nature, but more dismal far
In moral barrenness. There no congenial minds
(Save of the few who form'd the Christian band)
Would pour the tide of their affections forth,
To solace thine, or fill the dreary void,
Which of thy own accord had been produced.

There hast thou labour'd, borne, and patience kept,
By faith in Jesus for the good of men ;—

Of men who are enslav'd by Satan's chain,
Deceiv'd, besotted by idolatry.

Oft did thy bosom sigh for heathen wo:
Oft did thine eye, for them affect thy heart:
Oft did the starting, trembling tear betray
Thine inward sympathy. Oft didst thou pour
For them the fervent prayer at mercy's seat,
And supplicate despised, rejected grace.-

And are thy prayers unheeded? Is the ear Divine
Closed against praying breath, no more propitious?
Nay: they're recorded there, whence Love divine
Shall henceforth scatter down the blessings sought.
There hast thou suffer'd, too: many a trial
Has been allotted thee;-many a bitter cup,
Mix'd and dispens'd by Him who cannot err.
But the dear cause which call'd thee forth-the cause
Of Christ, of heaven, of never-dying souls-
Afforded thee sweet solace. The Everlasting arms
Were placed beneath thee, yielding full support
And triumph too. Thou didst not once regret
The lot assign'd, nor think thy suff'rings hard:
By strength and grace divine wast faithful kept,
Even to death: and now thou hast receiv'd
The crown of life which fadeth not away.-
And now thy struggling's o'er ;-
Thy toilsome race is run ;—

The glorious victory's won ;

And conflict is no more ;

For thou hast reach'd thy goal,-hast gained thy prize,
And I am left to mourn. I feel myself

A lonely pilgrim in this vale of tears.
(Yet not alone: He who in Patmos isle,
To his beloved disciple did appear

Is near to me; and ofttimes condescends
To cheer my heart with tokens of His love.)
Thou hast outstripp'd me in the course, and gone
Before to heaven. I mourn, but murmur not:
I would not wish thee back; nor dispossess
Thee of thy crown; but rather urge my steps
To follow with accelerated pace,

Thee to rejoin where parting is no more.
And while I bide a sojourner below,

By faith I'll pierce the veil which hangs between
And solace gain by gazing on thy bliss.

I'll view thee clothed in white before the throne;Bright emblem of thy happy, perfect state.

I'll see thee harping midst the blissful throng, (Brought like thyself from tribulation great,) Glory to Jesus' name;—chanting the song, "To Him who lov'd and wash'd us in His blood, "And made us kings and priests unto our God "Dominion, honour, majesty, and power "Be evermore ascrib'd." I'll trace thy steps To the fair pastures, where the Lamb shall lead His heavenly flock; and to the living streams, Where all thy thirst and heat shall be allay'd:Where God shall wipe away thine every tear, And grief no more be inmate of thy breast. There to go out no more-remain! And I'll fulfil My few remaining days or years below;

And then, through grace, will join the glorious train,
And in thy perfect joy participate,—

Perhaps enhance thy bliss, and help thee swell
The song of praise to Christ's adored name.

Siberia, 1833.

E. S.

THE FIRST ANGLO-SAXON MISSION.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE TRADITIONS OF
LANCASHIRE."

A FEW bright streaks of burning cloud shewed the sun's recent departure behind the low undulating hills of Kent. One pale star-pale in contrast with the opposing glory-hung like a gem over the broad and restless deep, while the sandy beach hissed and frothed as the retiring waves were fast ebbing from the shore.

On this memorable evening, a many-oared galley bedecked with gallant streamers, fluttering joyously and free towards the misty north, ran in, immedidiately under a little wooden platform of rude construction, then dignified with the office and functions of the pier at Ebbs Fleet, or, as it was then called, "Hypwines-fleote," in the eastern part of the Isle of

Thanet.

At the period in which we commence our narrative, the year of our Redemption, 596, this harbour was a place of no little importance, being one of the usual points of landing from the continental ports. Here the Saxon chiefs, Hengist and Horsa, disembarked with their troops in the fifth century, when Vortigern implored their help; and here also St. Augustine and his company first touched British ground, on their mission to convert the descendants of those treacherous Saxons to Christianity.

Each of these periods was an epoch-each event was destined, in the great drama that is yet unfolding, to overthrow existing dynasties, and make way

for the mighty march of Him whose dominion is from everlasting, and of whose kingdom there shall be no end.

And yet the sun went down calmly in the west. The stars gave out their usual radiance. The earth shook not, neither was the sky troubled, and every ripple and every wave, as aforetime, broke and died upon the shore. when these holy men, touched with pity for this benighted, this idolatrous land, first entered into the little haven we have described. No portents filled the air, no tokens were abroad of that mighty revolution which these weak instruments were destined to accomplish. Their future triumphs were not revealed by throes or convulsions in the moral or physical world. The most powerful agents, either for renovation or decay, are not usually distinguished but by their effects. That goodly prow we have just noticed, was lifted and chafed by the rude billows, those frail masts were bowed and buffeted by the winds, even as though its freight were but the common adjuncts of our existence, or the rude coracle of some ruder fisherman.

Kent, at that period the chief kingdom of the Saxon Heptarchy, was governed by Ethelbert; his residence being at Cant-wara-byrg, or the Kentishman's city; the Dorovernum of the Romans. The whole population, with few exceptions, were but little removed from a state of barbarism, and addicted to the most gross and revolting superstitions. Thor and Woden, their warrior, blood-quaffing deities, were almost universally worshipped. It is true, the Saxons, on their arrival, found a mixture of Christianity and Druidism prevalent over the greater part of the native population, and the British clergy. exhibiting a mixture of vice, ignorance, and super