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BRAND

THE OLD MAN AT SOUTHERY.

RAND CREEK is a pretty rural hamlet between Littleport and Southery, and on the morning of Tuesday, June 28th, I had an opportunity of looking at the scenery surrounding it, which, as a change, was very pleasant. But I did not feel well; and having to preach three times in the morning at Southery, and afterwards twice in the booth at Brand Creek, I preferred walking by myself to Southery, that I might meditate a little on high and holy things.

As soon as I started on my journey, the postman came to me and said, "Is it Mr. Banks ?" I said, "Yes." Then he handed me a letter, which our good brother, John Clark, of Downham Market, had sent to say he could not spend the day with us, as he was lame. This was a damper to my spirits, for I had quite an aching heart to see him, and hoped much to have had his company and his conversation during the interval of worship that day, for I have ever found him to be a tender-hearted and choice friend. No clouds have ever caused him to frown, or to slightly pass me by; but, whenever we have met together, our conversation has been pleasantly touching upon the great theme, the Saviour's greatness and glory in our salvation. But the enjoyment of his company was denied me. His letter, also, contained the tidings of the death of that long-tried friend to truth, Master Bailey, of Hull. This was no cheering note either. Beside all this, the weather looked gloomy, threatening, and likely to be wet; my mind was fast sinking, and I said to myself, "To preach three times to-day!"

Ah! many a sad hour have I spent previous to preaching. For years, many years, and many times in every year, during the last twenty years, have I been shut up in soul, beclouded in mind, wounded in feeling, and as destitute of light in the word as though I had never known anything of the teaching and power of the SPIRIT in me.

There are three classes of ministers who would only laugh at me in these gloomy seasons. The first is the methodical student, who has been trained to write all his sermons, and he goes to his

work to make a sermon, as a shoemaker goes to his seat to work a shoe, or as a lawyer sits down to draw up his client's brief. This class of parsons work hard mentally, but then they are always ready. Either from their book-shelves or from their brains they make up their sermons, and off they read them, and glad enough they are when their task is performed. I cannot tell what their end will be; of course I must leave that, but I do pity them.

The second class of ministers who would sneer at me are those who have very active minds and tongues to talk at any time, and on any subject. Many of these men get into the ministry; they love talking, they delight to hear themselves talk, they hardly think anyone else can talk at all; but their talk tendeth to poverty. I know some of these men to my deepest sorrow, but I have left them, and they have left me, and neither of us mourn our departure, at least I do not; only, I would be glad to see them, and hear them, really humbled, emptied, torn to pieces, bleeding to death, with sorrow of heart, and then raised up in the free and full grace and glory of the LORD GOD of Israel.

There is another class of good men who have such confidence in themselves, and so careless as to what or how they speak, that then they can go at any time, and into any place, and just talk any of all things, and of everything, just as it comes to hand. Some of these men are called great men, and perhaps they are great in themselves, if in no other. Of none of them shall I expect any sympathy, because, before I can venture into the pulpit, I must have a text given to me, that is, if I can get it; and by asking and seeking and waiting, I have received many; and then I want to think right through the text, and be myself comforted and edified by it, ere to others I go to speak. And, certainly, I may positively say here, many times have I enjoyed holy meditation on the Word of God, and when a Scripture has been given, when it has been opened, when other Scriptures have come in to expound and confirm it, then I have been solemnized, and to my work I have gone with thankfulness and prayer.

But I cannot write more this month.

THE VILLAGE PREACHER.

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THAT day of wrath! that dreadful day!
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall he meet the dreadful day?
When shrivelling, like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the loud trump that wakes the dead
O! on that day,-that wrathful day,-
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be Thou, O Lord! the sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall flee away.

THE

PRODIGAL'S

RETURN.

WHEN in the depths of vice and Against The only have I sinn'd;

sin,

The prodigal is found;
And his awakened ears begin,

To hear salvation's sound:

When by the Holy Spirit's power,
His eyes are made to see
The sad condition of his soul,

He cries, Ah, woe is me.

He sees himself estrang'd from God,
Deserving His just wrath;
And from the fulness of his heart,
Pours his confession forth.
Father! O, have I still the right
To call Thee by that name?
Or wilt Thou, justly, cast me off,
And leave me to my shame.

And broke Thy righteous law;
A suppliant at thy feet I fall,
Thy mercy to implore.
Forgive, or punish, as Thou wilt,
Blest Jesus, intercede;

guilt,
Tho' great my sin, tho' vast my
Thy love is great indeed.
Deserving nothing at Thy hands,
I throw me at Thy feet;
But, O! with one forgiving word,
My waiting spirit greet.

Pardon, my Father, pardon me,

And clasp me in Thine arm; There let me stay-close, close to Thee,

Where none my soul can harm.

Post free to any address for thirteen stamps,

T. G. C. A.

A Carte de Visite Portrait of "The Village Preacher." Robert Banks, 9, Crane Court, Fleet Street, London.

London: Printed by ROBERT BANKS, 9, Crane-court, Fleet-street, E.C. Published by G. J. Stevenson, 54, Paternoster-row, E.C; sold by mos t Booksellers.-Price One Halfpenny.

VOL. XIV.

OCTOBER, 1864.

No. 156.

A

CUT DOWN BY LIGHTNING IN LONDON.

"Behold this dreamer cometh."-Gen. xxxvii. 19.

BOUT twenty-four years ago a young friend of mine (one who feared the Lord) had a peculiar dream concerning me. When we met in the morning, she said,

you;

"I have dreamed a very peculiar dream concerning and I hope in twelve months I may be able to tell it to you.'

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But

Oh, then," said I, in my then careless manner, "if I have to wait as long as that, I would not give you a penny to know it." Time passed, and I thought little of her peculiar dream. it was not so with her as she informed me afterwards, for with that dream came an impression of the greatest importance, even my eternal salvation. Month after month passed, and alas! no change. Her mind was very much exercised concerning me. I became more trifling and vain than ever. Her hopes at times were almost gone; in fact her friends admonished her for being so friendly with me. I used to walk home with her from business daily; and how she endured my company I have since wondered. She would frequently admonish me, and endeavour to take her arm from mine, to walk from me; but it was no use, I was not to be put off. I would turn her admonitions into humour and laughter, and so quaint and curious were my remarks, that at times she found it impossible not to laugh at me. All this time there was a secret something told me she was right and I wrong. A circumstance which transpired about this time I cannot omit.

ONE HALFPENNY.

I could not imagine how she could rise early enough on Sunday mornings to attend seven o'clock prayer-meetings, and after that teach in the Sunday school, and so on all the day and every Sunday, while I could indulge myself in bed, and have my breakfast brought to me, and do just as I pleased all day. Supposing it must be very tedious and irksome, to lead her sort of life, speaking to her in this sort of fashion one day, she related to me this circumstance:

One Sunday morning, just as she was about to leave home for her beloved Grafton street prayer-meeting, a storm arose; she hesitated, but afterwards resolved to venture through, saying, What had Jesus done for her? When she had got part of the way, the lightning became terrific; she took refuge under a doorway. She said, it appeared to sweep through the street: after a time it abated, and she arrived safely at the prayermeeting. The next day she heard that a man and his wife were burned to death in the very street she had passed through. She was led to see the blessedness and safety in serving the Lord; and I was unable to say anything to the contrary.

At length her expectations were realized, the Lord in mercy was pleased to convince me of my fearful state as a lost sinner; and indeed I felt like the publican of old; I could not so much as lift up my eyes to heaven, lest the Lord should kill me for my presumption; and I also felt I could not communicate my exercises to my friend, I was ashamed of myself. I therefore came to the conclusion to say nothing to anyone; but the change was not long hid from her; I could not sing my favourite songs, nor jest at things Divine.

Some time after this, she invited me to go with her to the Friday evening lecture she usually attended. I consented, and went with her. The minister read for his text (Psalm cxii. 8, 9)," He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill, that he may set him with princes, even the princes of His people." I was truly astonished at the sermon. Had I told my exercises of mind to my friend, I should have believed she had communicated the whole to him, but as it was that was impossible. The whole appeared for me, and I had faith to believe it, and was amazed at the wonderful compassion of our blessed

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