working under the abiding impression of the truth, "Without me ye can do nothing."

The author has now developed the principle which induced him to undertake the composition of the following pages. He is not without hope that Christian sympathy will be seen in active operation, and that its influence will be felt, in the advices which are offered, and the consolations which are administered. The book has for its object, a numerous class of sufferers, whose sorrows are usually intense, and often long-continued. Other losses may be repaired. The wealth that is lost by a hazardous speculation, may be recovered by a more cautious and successful enterprise. Reputation that is tainted by an act of indiscretion, or by the surprise of some powerful temptation, may be regained by a course of prudence and good conduct. Health may be restored by the prompt adoption of medical advice, change of air, and society. The desertion of one friend may be supplied by another, more worthy of the hallowed name. But Who shall restore the dead? "He that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more: he shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more." What shall fill up the void that has been made by the stroke of mortality? Who can enter into our views, carry on our plans, bear with our weaknesses, reciprocate our affection, share our burden, and participate in our joy, like the once interesting companion whom the grave has shut out from our

sight? Other trials fall lightly on the spirits; or if they strongly affect us by the suddenness of their attack, we soon rise above the depression. But the trial of bereavement is severe and poignant; it strikes at the root of all our enjoyments, and throws a cloud over all our prospects. It is the dissolving of bonds, and the cutting asunder of ties, which had connected us with whatever was pleasant and endearing in life, and which had closely entwined themselves with the fibres of the heart. We feel as if we had parted with another self; as if the chief ingredient in our cup of happiness was gone; and as if the domestic circle had lost its brightest ornament. If it were right in any part of the human family to adopt the language of the weeping prophet,

Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow," it would be the class of bereaved mourners. The trial may overtake them uninstructed in the momentous concern of their soul's salvation, and unprepared to hear these distant footsteps of their coming Judge. They may never have been humbled for sin, and directed by faith to the atonement of Christ for pardon; they may be alike unacquainted with the requirements of the law, and the consolations of the gospel; and they may be in a state of fond attachment to the world, and in the full pursuit of its advantages. This moral estrangement from God, from holiness, and from happiness, will embitter the affliction, and give to it a poignant sting. And never will the mourner derive comfort

until he has felt his absolute need of the Saviour, and been brought to submit to the righteousness which is of God by faith.

The author has written under this conviction; and in "showing pity to his friend," he has warned him against false refuges, directed him to the only ground of hope, and urged the exercise of those principles, and the adoption of those means, which are most likely to secure established peace. There

is another class of mourners, whom he would ever view with peculiar tenderness, and to the encouragement of whom a great part of the work is addressed; -those sincere, anxious, troubled disciples, who are apt to view every trial in the light of judicial visitatation. He has tasted their cup of sorrow, and has known its bitterness; and until the relief of the gospel was brought home, by faith, to his heart, he was a stranger to settled peace and joy. In reference to each of these classes of character, he can most sincerely adopt the language of ROBERT BOLTON, a clergyman of the seventeenth century, the praise of whose zeal and usefulness will descend to distant generations. "As I dare not, on penalty of answering for the blood of their souls, cry, Peace, peace, to unholy men, were they gods upon earth; or promise pardon and pleasure in another world to any that nurses himself sensually and securely in an earthly paradise, were he an angel of heaven: so I earnestly desire to convey the warmest blood that ever heated the heart of Christ; the sweetest balm

that ever dropt from the pen of the blessed Spirit upon the sacred leaves of the book of life; the dearest mercies that ever rolled together the relenting bowels of God's tenderest compassion; into every broken and wounded heart. For as promises of salvation to a worldling are like honour to a fool, so terrors of the law, to a truly humble penitent, are as snow in summer and rain in harvest, both alike unseemly and unseasonable."

CHAPTER I.

THE MOURNER'S SORROWS.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown;
No traveller e'er reached that blessed abode,
Who found not thorns and briars in his road.

-He who knew what human hearts would prove,
How slow to learn the dictates of his love;
That, hard by nature and of stubborn will,

A life of ease would make them harder still;

In pity to the souls his grace design'd

To rescue from the ruins of mankind,
Call'd for a cloud to darken all their years,
And said, "Go spend them in the vale of tears."

CowPER.

Ir is impossible to look round on the world which we inhabit, without perceiving that "the misery of man is great upon him." Sorrow is the inseparable companion of depravity and sin; the fruit and evidence of our alienation from God, and wilful transgression of his laws. Adam, in a state of innocence, was not only a stranger to guilt and remorse, but to all those natural evils which form bitter ingredients