and usefulness increased day by day. On every side it ap peared blessing and blessed. The same God, who had given them grace sufficient in their day of adversity, now bestowed on them that double portion, which is needful to stand in prosperity. Though so many rich, so many noble, so many learned were called, still Port-Royal stood a bright example of unfeigned humility and self-abasement; of self-denial, charity, daily taking up the cross, and following a crucified Lord. At the end of this period, however, the persecution was resumed, unheard of cruelties practised; and at length its final destruction was agreed upon. The house was razed to the ground, and even the very foundations ploughed up; that not a vestige might be left to mark the spot where it had stood. Such was the end of Port-Royal! So terminated an establishment, which had so long shone a bright example of the union of piety and learning. It produced many eminent characters, such as Pascal, Nicolè, Arnauld, &c. who now rest from their labours, and their works do follow them. Verité.

June 24th, 1824.

A HYMN.

Child of man, whose seed below
Must fulfil their race of woe;
Heir of want, and doubt, and pain,
Does thy fainting heart complain?
Oh! in thought, one night recal;
The night of grief in Herod's hall:
Then I bore the vengeance due,
Freely bore it all for you.

Child of dust, corruption's son,
By pride deceived, by pride undone ;
Willing captive, yet be free,
Take my yoke, and learn of me.

1, of heaven and earth the Lord,
God with God, the Eternal Word,
I forsook my father's side,

Toiled, and wept, and bled, and died.

Child of doubt, does fear surprise?
Vexing thoughts within thee rise?
Wondering, murmuring, dost thou gaze
On evil men and evil days?
Oh! if darkness round thee lower,
Darker far my dying hour,

Which bade that fearful cry awake,
My God, my God, dost thou forsake?

Child of sin, by guilt oppressed,
Heaves at last thy throbbing breast ?
Hast thou felt the mourner's part?
Fear'st thou now thy failing heart?
Bear thee on, beloved of God,
Tread the path thy Saviour trod :
He the tempter's power hath known,
He hath poured the garden groan.

"Child of heaven, by me restored,
Love thy Saviour, serve thy Lord;
Sealed with that mysterious Name,
Bear the cross, and scorn the shame :
Then, like me, thy conflict o'er,
Thou shall rise, to sleep no more;
Partner of my purchased throne,
One in joy-in glory one,

EPITAPH.

My fellow sinner in a world of woe,

May mercy lead thee all thy journey through;
Thy sinful state may mercy make thee feel;

Christ's mercy pardon, and Christ's merey heal!

SCRUTATOR

Printed by A. Foster, Kirkby Lonsdale.

FRIENDLY VISITOR.

No. LXXIII.

OCTOBER, 1824.

VOL. VI.

THE JOURNEY.

It is pleasant to trace the guidance of God's hand in our steps through life; and to notice his gracious providence in every thing that befals us I often think, that a large portion of the happiness of human life consists in watching the dealings of our heavenly Father towards us; and I can fully enter into the saying of some old writer, "he that notices providences, shall never want a providence to notice."

These remarks suggest themselves to my mind, on reflecting upon the striking occurrences of a journey some years ago. I had gone from Cambridge to Buckden to get into a London Coach for the north; and was not a little disappointed, to see it drive up to the inn door full inside. It was in the depth of winter, and a cold, snowy night. I was anxious, however, to proceed; and having procured the loan of an extra coat from the guard, I got outside. Well provided as I was against the roughness of the weather, I could not help thinking, as we travelled along, how altogether unfounded are many of the evils of human life, which we so much dread. Sitting at home by the fireside on a winter's evening, and hearing the howling of the storm without, how terrible would a long midnight exposure on the top of a coach appear! But true it is, that very many of our evils are more frightful in idea than reality. The poor care-worn traveller, pursuing his weary course-his limbs scarcely covered from the cold-his frame failing for hunger and his spirits sinking in despair

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may well excite our pity, and call forth our gratitude for our own distinguishing mercies. And ah! such a dismal case I once knew; and glad should I be, if its memory stained not the history of the valley in which I live, and which I love; and fair would I bury the tale in forgetfulness, did I not hope that its mention might warn others concerned in the care of the poor, not to push their prudence and their parsimony to such a pitch, as to run the risk of hastening those into the grave, whom they are bound by their office to shelter from the ills of life.

There had long been disputes to whom it belonged, to relieve the wants of a poor unhappy Scotchman in a parish near to mine. He was willing to work when he could get work; and on all sides was allowed to be a quiet, decent man. But in the winter before last, he was reduced to the lowest state of poverty. Having made fruitless entreaties to the overseer of the parish for help, and having nothing for his family to satisfy the cravings of hunger, he sallied forth one morning to beg the interference of a magistrate. It was a cold, snowy morning; and he was compelled to leave his cottage without tasting a single morsel. He traversed the dreary moors to the magistrate's house. What befel him there, I know not; for he could not tell his tale. On his leaving the house, the storm increased. Enfeebled by hunger and melancholy, he could not withstand its violence: his family looked in vain for his return in the evening; and a few days after, he was found on the moors buried in a snow drift!

His want contending parishes survey'd;

And this disowned, and that refus'd him aid:
Awhile, who should not succour him they tried;
And in that while, their wretched victim died!

But I return to my history. I made myself as comfortable as I could on the outside of the coach; and while I really felt, that I had much reason for thankfulness, even in a situation which by my own fire-side I should have thought very dreadful; the sequel of my journey made me well content, to forego the comfort of an inside place. While changing horses at Stamford, I saw a soldier at the inn door, looking with an anxious eye into the inside: but being disappointed, he mounted behind: and as I was sitting at the front, and the night was dark, I saw no more of him until the morning. I then perceived that he was very ill; so ill, that he was unable to support himself. And as the outside passengers got down one after another, he was left alone, and in great danger of falling off the coach. I begged the coachman to stop, while the soldier crept over the top to the front; where he was most thankful for the support of my shoulder, and the shelter of my umbrella, until we reached the town to which we were both going. I was shocked with his deathly looks, and could not help feeling an anxious desire to be useful to him. He was a fine, tall grenadier; but his strength was fast failing him, and it was evident that he was near his end. He told me that he had long been ill in a consumption; that he had got leave of absence to try his native air a few miles beyond Leeds; and that though he dreaded the travelling outside all night, he longed to hasten to his home, aware that his days would not be many in this world. I was deeply affected with his statement, and still more so to find him wholly ignorant of all saving knowledge. But he was not without a concern for his soul. He felt that it was an awful thing to die. He wished to be prepared. He listened to what was said regarding his state as a sinner. He caught with eagerness at the