Doing and suffering : memorials of Elizabeth and Frances, daughters of the late Rev. E. Bickersteth

Front matter

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BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY

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Preface

Tis little volume scarcely needs a Preface; it tells its own tale. It is composed chiefly of letters written by an elder to a younger sister, who was called for many years to endure much suffering of body and mind. These sisters were faithful disciples of Jesus on earth; both are now with him in glory.

The dealings of our heavenly Father with them were in some respects widely different. The une to whom these letters were written was afflicted to the eye of sense almost beyond measure. For many months her bodily pain, and sometimes her mental anguish, was severe beyond descriptivn. None who knew her well could doubt her union with Christ, so evident were the tokens of her fellowship with him; yet often she seemed to walk in darkness and had no light. Her faith was sorely tried; and at length it was only by slow and painful degrees the earthly tabernacle was taken down, that her immortal spirit might go free. It was not thus with the elder sister. She was ever radiant with joy and peace in believing. She appeared to live in the perpetual sunshine of her

Saviour’s loving smile. Yet she was emineutly i 5

6 PREFACE.

fitted to sympathize with her suffering sister, and to suggest thoughts to the afflicted one which enlivened many an hour of weariness and pain And when it pleased God to take her to himself she was spared the distress of a lingering illness ; the call to her to pass out of time into eternity came with a suddenness which would have been terrible indeed had it not found her ready at once to arise and depart hence.

We do not think that any who read the following letters will be tempted to ask, “Why have they been published?” Are there not many in the Church militant whom the Lord hath chosen in the furnace of affliction? Are there not numbers of his own children to whom his loving wisdom has appointed days of anguish and nights of weariness 7 May it not comfort some of these to know how other pilgrims along the way to Zion, who have gone before and reached the everlasting rest, suffered in like manner, and were upheld by the grace which flows from the fulness of Jesus ?

Should the publication of these letters contribute in any degree to this result, they will not have been published in vain. The comfort which was originally intended for one will overflow for the consolation of many, to the praise of Him who is the comforter of the cast down,—“a very present help in trouble.”

R. RIPON.

Chapter I. P

The Last Ramble— Elizabeth’s Marriage—Fanny’s Infancy and Childhood—The Sister-Friend—Letters on the Wedding Journey —Proposed Plan for the Winter.............. ehucecsasscnséuevedeseacan satsaeae

Chapter II

Journey to Torquay—A New Home and its Enjoyments—Letters on Song of Solomon—Fanny’s dangerous Illness—Mental Distress—- Letters from her Father.......... Bev ipee te cicesscsccsecasestesss: Mea cauecaseaeance

CHAPTER IIT.

tthe dreaded Journey—The altered Aspect of Life—God’s Training, and its Effects—Fanny’s Return Home—Parable of the Fisher-

The Summer of 1846—Almost at Home—The Mariner—The Spring

of 1847—Elizabeth’s first Child—The Baptismm......... Senerecenee nade“!

CHAPTER V.

Mrs. Bickersteth’s Deafness—Intercourse with her Father—The Portrait—The Rough and Smooth Handle—Shades of Feeling—The General Thanksgiving of 1847....... caches aad pradabape edehent sens saeveaeseeas

CHAPTER VI.

The Beginning of 1848—THer Brothers Ordination and Marriage— Her Personal Loss in these Changes—The Attractions of her Sick- Room—The Flexible Will—Again near Home—The Fountain and RIREEPOW DITO Dsnaeucscssersecsncescebesessece Bite ctperececes Bucciesensissuvtivedeses os

CHAPTER VII.

Division of Time—Work for God, tor the Poor, for Friends—Early Waking Hours— Preparation for the Communion— Spiritual

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Temptation—Hilda, or the Thwarted Wish.........ccccceseeseeseeseeseeee LOG

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIII.

PAGE

The Fellow-Sufferer—Nursery Letters—Children ina Sick-Room— The Foundations of Faith tested—A Word from her Father........ ;

CHAPTER IX.

Unreasonable Fears—Union for Prayer—Trial of Faith—Real Blessing gained—Letters—Close of 1848—Tedious Suffering—The Measure of God’s Gifts drawn from Himself...........secesesccsseseeceere ces oee

CHAPTER X,

Visits from Kelshall—Secret Burdens—Death of a beloved Aunt— Fanny’s Share in Parochial Work—Dr. M’Neile’s Visit ............ nase

CHAPTER XI.

Last Letters from her Father—Letters from Elizabeth—New Hopes of Relief disappointed—Christmas of 1849—Visit to the Library... wee

CHAPTER XII.

The Last Family Gathering—The first Hour of the New Year—Gathering Clouds—Her Father’s Il]Iness—His Intercourse with his sick Child—The Valley of the Shadow of Death—The Hallowed Room —Arrangements for the Future—Last Letters from Elizabeth— The two Sunsets.........+sewe ecaved eaktradsesesceteereane eoaeaaseetareeeee Seeds

CHAPTER XIII.

Leaving Watton — Drive through the Churchyard and Village — Fanny’s Life at Kelshall—Marriage of her youngest Sister—Outward Perishing and Inward Growth—Fanny’s Letters—Growing Unselfishness—Visit to the Church ......sccsccccsccssceeceeeen cee ees eee canoes

CHAPTER XIV.

Last Mlness—Its immediate Cause—Sunset-Clouds—Intercourse with her Brother and Sisters—Last Sacrament—Earthly Cares disposed of—Last Conversation—Death—The Weary One at rest.......-.see

CHAPTER XV.

Elizabeth’s Lettters to suffering Relatives—The Loss of her Babe— Her Life at Kelshall—Birth of Twins—Sudden Alarm—Visit of her Brother-in-Law—Day of Suspense—The Last Sleep—The Re- BUTTOCLION MOYTING........cercsccvecescecvecsevcccesascsersenscces cae sesnvecauves cases

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DOING AND SUFFERING.

CHAPTER I.

THE LAST RAMBLE—ELIZABETH’S MARRIAGE—FANNY’S IN- FANCY AND CHILDHOOD—THE SISTER-FRIEND—-LETTERS ON THE WEDDING-JOURNEY—PROPOSED PLAN FOR THE WINTER.

Ir was a bright Sabbath in early June; twice already the village chimes had called to prayer, and had been succeeded by that still hour in a summer afternoon, which conveys so insensibly repose and refreshment, to the frail human spirits which have somewhat wearied in their strivings after heavenly communion and things unseen. Elizabeth and Frances Bickersteth had sought the retreat of a favourite walk in the grounds of Watton Rectory, their lovely and happy home,—a grassy walk, shaded by fir-trees, and presenting here and there the leafy bower of a beech. - 9 in its wealth of summer verdure. Little of the gardener’s care was bestowed here; and for its wildness the sisters loved it, and marked how in God’s world there is room for all; how lovingly the bramble and the wild rose intertwine their branches, and leave ample space for the rich mosses to flourish beneath them ; while the tall trees, which had so lately been swept by wintry winds, now thrilled with the music of the woods.

The sisters wandered on more silently than usual; and yet heart beat to heart with a peculiar sympathy, and the unconfessed grief escaped at length from the younger: “Our last Sunday afternoon!” It was indeed so; the week had commenced which was to remove Elizabeth from a father’s to a husband’s roof, and, while it enriched the family band with a beloved brother, was to withdraw from the intimacies and the joys and the griefs of daily life, the sister on whom they were, each in their degree, leaning for guidance and sympathy. None, perhaps, had more reason to dread the separation than Fanny. :

Many circumstances concurred to make the bond between herself and her eldest sister a peculiarly tender one. From the age of eighteen

DCING AND SUFFERING. 11 months she had never known the buoyancy of vigorous health. In an unguarded moment, the eager child had climbed the back of a favourite chair, and a sudden fall upon her head placed her life, for several hours, in imminent peril. The first smile which indicated that consciousness was restored and immediate danger over, was reserved for her father on his return from his daily duties at the Church Missionary- House. The little one was given back to believing prayer; but the parents were henceforth to hold her with a light grasp, and to feel that a fragile treasure had been committed to their keeping. They could not, in after years, call the circumstance an accident which thus determined the colouring of their child’s whole future life, but rather saw in it the entrance-. gate to the special, and, in many respects, solitary, path of personal suffering, which a Father’s wisdom had marked out as the “right way” for her to a “city of habitation.”

It is not needful here to dwell upon her childhood. The nervous and physical irritability, the vague and undefined apprehensions incident to her stat2 of health, which (as she witerwards told her sister) she was powerless to overcome and too proud to confess, somewhat separated her from a share in the occupations and tastes of her more vigorous sisters and brother, and the circumstance became too usual to attract attention that there were pleasures and sports in which all could join but Fanny, and special indulgences, on the other hand, reserved for her alone. Her nurses had always a word of praise for the gentle child who was tempted by no excess of buoyancy into schemes of mischief. With governesses, too, she was ever the pupil who did thein credit, notwithstanding the serious interruptions of frequent illness. So years passed on, and developed a mind keenly alive to intellectual enjoyments and eager in its pursuit of knowledge. The extreme delicacy of her chest, on several occasions, made her a prisoner for the whole winter; but her daily walk was taken with undeviating regularity in her father’s library, with Milton for her companion, ard the oceasional refreshment of one of Beethoven’s favourite Sonatas. Her music is still a sweet household memory: the fingers always seemed taught by the heart, and awoke an answering symoathy. It might have been difficult, before the age of fifteen, to decide whether any deeper principle was at work than the influences of a happy religious home; at that period she made a public profession of religion, and shortly after more decided symptoms of pulmonary disease awoke the fear that her life might rot be prolonged beyond a few months. The solemn act of self-dedication, and her own uncertain tenure of life, led to a deeper and more earnest inquiry whether she had indeed taken her father’s God as the guide of her youth, and had for herself sought and found the Lord Jesus.

But there were difficulties here she had not foreseen. The enemy of souls had offered no barrier to her ardent pursuit of mental culture; but when the knowledge of Jesus was her aim, all his unholy skill was directed against its attainment, and many and sore were her spiritual struggles. Her instinctive aversion to speaking of her own feelings had almost deprived her of the able guidance she might have gained from her beloved father, already a hoary veteran under the Captain of our salvation. To his children indeed he was ever the friend as well as the parent; but there were dark thoughts and doubts, which she fancied it impossible even to whisper to one who appeared to be ever walking in the beams of the Sun

14 TOING AND SUFFERING.

of Righteousness. It was then that some easual word drew the attention of Elizabeth, and called forth a sympathizing note,* showing that her secret burden was both observed and

* «Dearest F. :—A few words you dropped this morning seemed to show me that your path heavenward lies now through a dark valley, whose gloomy windings I have had to trace; and, though the journey was very dreary, I shall not have taken it in vain, if it enables me to hold out any clue to guide your steps. Your path seems lonely, for perhaps you dare not breathe your feelings to any human ear; but you little know how many of your fellow-Christians are passing the same road, and how many fervent and effectual prayers may be ascending up to heaven, from the standard-bearers of the army, that God would strengthen and help the weak-hearted.. Are you not included among them? Shall these prayers ascend in vain to the Hearer and Answerer of prayer? Then you are not even without human sympathy, much less without His whose presence hovers specially over the scene of temptation. With regard to the trial itself, I know not whether it attacks reason in the form of argument; if so, do not argue, but repel,—not because you have not the best of the argument, but because you are now too much agitated to carry it on. Love, as well as faith, has a strong grasp of truth: cling fast, then, with the arms of love, and Satan will not persevere in a course which strengthens the power )f love.

“If they are thoughts of sin and blasphemy, which your inmost soul abhors, your course is plain and easy, You are suffering, not sinning: wait on the Lord, and the trial will be removed; but do not let your conscience understood, and that the most tender sisterly sympathy invited her confidence. Henceforth they had no concealments; and their chosen time of most familiar intercourse: was the Sunday afternoon. It was not, then, surprising that the prospect of separation should throw a cloud over the bright June Sabbath which has introduced her to the reader. But there is a silver lining to every cloud: the young wife was not the less a loving sister, and Fanny was to possess, in the more permanent form of correspondence, the thoughts which continued to be so fondly occupied with her. On her wedding-journey, she writes, ‘‘We have seemed as if by instinct to sympathize with each other’s wants and struggles; and to me it has been very delightful if an elder sister’s hand could help you over any stones which lie in our upward path, or encourage be defiled with the fear of guilt you have not contracted. Dearest Fanny, let us thwart our enemy by growth in grace. We have slept idly in the midst of privilege: it is high time we awoke out of sleep. If I have read your heart wrong, burn this note; you will not love me the less for having written it: if right, then take it, dearest, as God’s voice speaking comfort through ‘Your affectionate sister,

: “EK. S. BicKERSTETH.”’

you, even from the roughness of the way, to believe that it was just the narrow path so accurately described in our heavenly guidebook. This pleasant intercourse, dearest one, is not broken. The key once gained to the heart of a loved one is not soon lost. We will still try to support and cheer each other on; and if God will indeed give me his own rich blessing, with the thousand new and precious privileges he gives me with my dearest T., you know his gifts shall still be in common. Any strength he gives us shall still—shall it not ?—be used for each other in the blessed service of true sisterly love. This day three weeks, I suppose, we shall return to my new home. I hope God will give us his blessing there,—the blessing of a holy, happy, Christian household.”

And again, a fortnight later :—

“My owN DEAR Fan :—I think, by writing this morning, my note may reach you before the sacrament on Sunday. You will excuse a hasty line written on my knee for want of a table. Dearest love, if I have been any help to you, it has been both a relief and a joy te my own spirit. J am sure our own burdens are lightened when we strive to bear those of others. Would not intercessory prayer (that blessed path God has left open to those feeblest in body of his children) sometimes take off your thoughts from the conflict within, and cheer you with the feeling that, in the midst of your own weakness, God may be using you to impart strength to others? I think, dear one, it may be the enemy that harasses you with fears that you do not overcome your weakness enough in preparing for the sacrament. I know it is said, ‘The idle soul shall suffer want;’ but which of us, my Fan, would accuse you of idleness because you cannot join in our long walks? Is God less tender than your sisters? Does he know your weakness of spirit less than we do your bodily weakness? Throw yourself on him. We would not push you from us if you fainted and sunk on us fer support. Will he? “Your loving

ShnsoB. 2

Fanny was able to share this autumn in the pleasure of a few weeks at the sea-side; and the following letter was addressed to her there :—

18 DOING ANL SUFFERING.

“My own Precious Love :—If it is as cold and damp at Sandgate as it is here now, you will hardly get to church on Sunday, and, if you do, I know you will not quarrel with me for a letter. First, I must beg you to think of and pray for us as we draw near with our poor people to the table of the Lord. I think I told you how we all come up together in double row. It should remind us of the solemn duties we owe to these members of Christ’s body, and of the work he has given us here, to build up a living, united church to his glory. But, oh, my dearest love, such a little cloud will sometimes seem quite to blot out the Sun of Righteousness, and make such darkness in my soul! Is it so with you? I think one of God’s special ways of humbling spiritual pride and delighting in self is by permitting very small obstacles to make us stumble. When we are caught in the very cobwebs of the enemy, we see we are poor fecble insects ; and yet, wonderfully elastic, pride rises before the pressure is removed.

“T was looking at ‘Solomon’s Song’ this morning. Did it ever strike you what condescension is implied in the terms of relative love our Saviour appropriates to himself?

Love makes us necessary to each other; we are necessary to our beloved parents. I feel the gap it would now make to my own dear T. if I were removed from him; and yet He, in whom dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, calls himself our husband. Then we are necessary to his full joy. . . Our feeble efforts to love, to serve, are our Saviour’s delight: he rests in his love; he joys over us with singing. Dwell on these thoughts, my own love: there is nothing like the music of heaven for silencing those owls and bats and noisome creatures that Satan stirs up from the dark caverns within.

“TY look for real pleasure, my own sweet sister, In our winter correspondence. I do not wish to bind you by any promise, but I feel it would be better—it would be more like the happy hours when all were at church, and we talked together over the library-fire —if our letters were generally kept for each other’s eye only. Tell me if you do not feel it also.

“Your loving sister, Chitty S205 ‘‘September 25, 1845.” 2%

The following were written after her return to Watton :—

“Thad been thinking of you this morning, and what subject I should choose for my letter, when, opening accidentally my Bible at the ‘Proverbs,’ I met with this verse:—‘Man’s goings are of the Lord: how then can a man understand his own way?’ It struck me as such a sweet portion for you, love. How can we understand our own way? It is the plot of infinite wisdom, infinite love and tenderness: how can we fathom it? Its very perplexities are encouraging; and how perplexing it is when sickness seems, instead of purifying, to be crushing to the spirit,—when, attacking the head, it seems to deprive us of all power of thought and leave us defenceless to any assault of the enemy! ‘Then, indeed, our way is incomprehensible; because He who orders it is also incomprehensible! There is some deep plan of wisdom and love we cannot read. If we could read always, why God’s ways would be no more wonderful than our’s, and our all would be committed to one like unto ourselves. Let us, dearest F., take the perplexities of our path, whenever they come, as traces

DOING AND SUFFERING. oT of the finger of that God whose ways are past finding out. There will then be more rest in reposing in the simple confidence of faith and love in his guidance, even than in tracing the loving plans of earthly friends, whose schemes are within our comprehension. Being blind, we shall be content to be ied by a way we know not: our Father knows it; his eye is open; and he will guide us into no pitfalls, but even by the right way, unto a ‘city of habitation.’ Think of us at the sacrament to-morrow. I fear many, many lost sacraments will rise up in judgment against me. Now, when my cup overflows so with mercy, my heavenly Father may well expect some returns of gratitude. xk x * x x *

“Your very affectionate sister,

OM eedoan

‘sNovember 8, 1845.

“This has been a busy day, dearest F., and you must forgive me if I send you a hurried letter: it is such a relief to my spirit to be busy; I can feel for you, my dearest love, under your present trial. Pray do not let the enemy take advantage of your disengaged bp DOING AND SUFFERING.

thoughts to turn them sadly inwards, amidst the shoals and quicksands of temptation. You are weak, and are therefore invited now to rest in your Saviour’s arms. He does not call on the feeble to march with the flock, but simply to submit to be carried. If the Tempter tries to goad you even there, do not turn round to look on him, but hide your head deeper in your Saviour’s bosom. I fear I can give you but little with reference to ‘Solomon’s Song;’ but, if it has been in any way a snare to you, perhaps a few of the bright thoughts connected with its glowing imagery may interest you: at any rate, you will take the will for the deed. Where Scripture is fiourative, it seems to call for the full use of the imagination,—to present most vividly before the mind’s eye the object used as an illustration; that, having received its fullest impression, we mz 7 understand the antitype more clearly. I will only to-day bring before you the comparison, (ch. i. 9,) ‘I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh’s chariots.’ Imagine to yourself, dearest, a company of noble steeds, full of ardour for the race: you cannot call what seems to them such delight, labour.

DOING AND SJFFERING. 23

They pant only for the signal to start; yet it is no headstrong, impetuous ardour. True, they need no touch of the spur, but they are obedient to the slightest motion of the reins. How full of grace and dignity are all their movements! It is a royal image, far removed from all the low drudgery of life. Now, compare the various images thus suggested to the mind with men’s false views of our Master’s service, or with our own most imperfect attainments. Contrast this image of joyful ardour with our heaviness and weariness,— this perfect submission, this regulated though unbroken energy, with the wild, irregular flights of enthusiasm,—‘his graceful dignity with the low vulgarity of cant,—and see whether in this one short sentence the Spirit hath not given us, with the touch of a master’s pencil, a sketch of the Church of Christ as he would have her to be. It is not a command: he speaks as if he already deemed her such, to allure her, as it were, not to deceive the hopes he might so justly form. Let us on this holy day, dear one, pray for more of this joyful ardour in our Master’s work, or, if it be the curb-rein he sees fit to use, let us remember

‘They also serve who only stand and wait.’

lt is growing late. ... | ‘Adieu, dearest. Your loving sister,

An allusion to Torquay in the following letter requires some explanatory notice. Fanny’s precarious health, and the short dry cough which told the tale of secret mischief, had attracted the attention of some dear and valued Christian friends of her father’s, who, for a similar reason in their own family, made Torquay their winter residenie. By these beloved friends, who seemed only half to enjoy their blessings till they had shared them with others, the kind proposal was made that Fanny should spend the winter with them; and, in tender consideration to the timid girl, a sister was included in the invitation. After some little delay, that the matter might be viewed on all sides, and counsel be taken of the best Friend, the parents gratefully accepted the hospitable ower, and, with the true unselfishness of parental love, were willing, for their children’s advantage, thus to extend the breach in the domestic circle which had been made a few months previously by Elizabeth’s marriage.

‘sNovember 28, 1845.

“My DEAREST SistER:—The close of the week reminds me that it is time again to hold communion with you. How pleasant it is that, although separated from each other, we can still do so! I think it will make Torquay seem much nearer. There is a peculiar feeling of comfort in looking forward to that journey; it is altogether such a work of Christian brotherly love, it seems as if a blessing was specially likely to attend it; and I think, my sweet sister, when you look back on the past, you will acknowledge how graciously He who appointed weakness as your earthly portion has often given you a double portion of love, so that you have never been called on to stand alone. Surely, dearest, you can trust him for this winter. The stream of love may run in a different channel, but it will be the same stream which has so often refreshed you. We little know the issues of each change we pass through, for we cannot tell the end from the beginning; but when we consider all that happens to us on earth as germs of eternal things, how many blessed combinations of heavenly love and intimacy in the world above may arise from passing intercourse! Journeys from which we may have shrunk may prove to have been the beginning of eternal friendships; strangers whom we may have feared to encounter may be a source of eternal joy. Eternity, if we could but realize it, throws a wondrous glow over time. Carlyle caught some glimpse of the grandeur and poetry it might impart even to the poor nineteenth century; but it is only the Christian can dwell in the future, because he alone can people it with images of true and real blessedness,—well-known and well-loved forms, whose new glories and increasing beauty may, indeed, task his imagination to the utmost, but which are not new to his heart :—

‘Jesus, my Saviour, dwells therein, In glorious majesty; And him through every stormy scene I onward press to see.’

You know we shall pray much for you when you leave dear Watton.

“Your loving sister, H. 8S. B.”

DOING AND SUFFERING. oT One more letter still found her at home:—

“My DEAREST Fanny:—As these are expressly Sunday letters, I will turn at once to the beautiful verse I have chosen for our portion:—‘As an apple-tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.’ Flowers convey the ideas of grace, innocence, freshness and beauty, a sweet familiar joy, but not the impression of dignity or protection. They are suitable as emblems of Him who humbled himself to become even as one of us, a brother sharing fully in all our joys and sorrows, a familiar friend; but they are not adequate to convey any full conception of our divine Protector. He who is the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley is immediately after reckoned among the trees of the wood; yet, by an exquisite touch of poetry, it is a flower-bearing tree to which he is compared,—a flower, too, distinguished for the peculiar delicacy of its bloom. Do you not catch the image of delicate tenderness united to full protection? The traveller is weary; an Eastern sun has been beating down upon him, and the fatigue of travelling, joined to the burning heat, has produced complete exhaustion; a spreading tree offers its cool shade, and from its branches hangs luscious fruit ready for his immediate use. What an image of rest and refreshment! Do you wish to see the original of the picture here presented to your view? Where can you look for it but in Him who says, ‘Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and | will give you rest’? Dearest Fanny, our heavenly Friend would have us at rest. Would he delude us with such an image of repose as that I have just brought before you, if he did not mean us to enjoy it? Rest, too, blended with enjoyment; fragrant fruit combined with pleasant shade; a rest that would strengthen and invigorate the traveller to pursue his way rejoicing. This is the rest Jesus gives; these are the hours of refreshing we must seek from him. And let us ask in faith, nothing wavering. He is faithful that has promised. “Your loving sister,

OBR. daet

CHAPTER II.

JOURNEY TO TORQUAY—A NEW HOME, AND ITS ENJOYMENTS —LETTERS ON SONG OF SOLOMON—FANNY’S DANGER- OUS ILLNESS—MENTAL DISTRESS—LETTERS FROM HER FATHER.

SHORTLY before Christmas, under the escort of their kind friend, Fanny and her sister removed to Devonshire, to make the experiment whether a winter in its mild and healing air might prove effectual in arresting the progress of disease. If the cherished home-bird had lett the nest with some misgivings, they were soon dispelled by the truly parental kindness with which she was received; and she learned that her own privileged home was not the only happy Christian household where the law of love was recognised as the ruling and animating principle. Her letters could not but reflect some of the varied enjoyments in her new home, and with reference to them Elizabeth writes, Jan. 9, “I think we should extract as it were the essence of every moment of earthly happiness, and view it as a pledge and earnest of better things to come. The glowing delight of being beloved, and . loving warmly in return,—the keen intellectual pleasure of striking and eloquent thoughts,—the swelling, half-undefined emotions excited by lofty music or magnificent scenery,—will they not all find a prototype in ‘ that sober certainty of waking bliss’ purchased for us by the blood of the Lamb? How very, very blessed our Redeemer, the Fountain of all this bliss, will be throughout all eternity! And when we look back on our little journey through life, how reasonable all its trials and temptations and conflicts will appear! Shall we not wonder that, when such a height was to be attained, ‘we had so little up-hill in our course? We shall feel that we did not climb the steep ascent ourselves: there was One who bore us on eagle’s wings, only now and then leaving us to try for a few steps the difficulty of the road, that we might know how much we owed him, and have the honour of some fellowship in his sufferings. His sufferings were mainly in inward conflict, and, though we are not called to bear the scourge, the nails, or even the cruel jeer, surely we have fellowship with ~ him when we are led into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil. There are hours when we too feel the power of darkness, we too sometimes feel forsaken. How well, then, he knows how to sympathize with us as only a sufferer could! You must have enjoyed a New- Year’s sacrament.” ...