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And then it bade farewell to earth,
And took its flight to heaven.”
Could such a babe glorify God by its death? Ah! yes; there were strangers' forms standing by Marmaduke's little grave; they had never seen his baby face, but they trusted to meet him above. They loved to pause beside his grave, and were speaking even then of a certain season of Easter, when their pathway had been very dark and cheerless,—when their only hope of comfort was in the voice of God's Church,--and who then spoke the words of peace to their sorrowing minds? Was it not the same faithful Priest whom Cyril had seen and doubted ? The strangers recalled his joyful voice and manner, as he told the Easter tidings, “ He is risen,” and they prayed that those words which had so cheered them might be his own comfort when he thought of his baby boy sleeping among strangers, but not uncared for by them. How often they thanked God, and wished 10 glorify Him, as they visited the infant's tomb!
Quitting the solemn scene of death and decay, Cyril was carried to many a strange scene, ere he lost his shadowy form. At last he seemed to stand in the aisle of his loved Church, with an undefined feeling of awful beauty, as he gazed upon the glorious dyes of the stained window falling full upon the chancel pavement, and casting a quivering tint upon a small white coffin." He could not repress the thrilling eagerness with which he pressed nearer to it, and there read his own name and age inscribed ; yet there was no sense of fear. He saw the angel forms that stood round his bed at the first, once more hand in hand, ready to depart; he too took his place with them, and one glad burst of triumphant music wel. comed him as he rose to follow them; and, suddenly awaking, he found it was a dream.
Christmas day has once more passed, the Church bas again celebrated the feasts of SS. Stephen and John, the festiv i of the Holy Innocents has fallen on a day of Sunday stillness, and Cyril is laid in his little bed; it is very quiet there, and more cold and narrower than his former place of rest; but his sleep will never more be broken by dreams, or distant murmuring sounds. He has passed away to the spirit land; and surely never did a little child more glorify God in his death. How many have remembered the fearlessness with which he spoke of leaving all below, and meeting his SAVIOUR in heaven ! How often do they recall the few last months of his innocent life! and with melancholy satisfaction they think of the prayerful spirit in which he folded his hards, (when the finger of death had laid its icy touch upon him,) and repeating the simple, childish petitions he had been taught, closed his eyes in the last long sleep with those blessed words, “Suffer the little children to come unto Me," upon his lips.
O Almighty God, Who, out of the mouths of babes and suck. lings, hast ordained strength, and madest infants to glorify Thee by their deaths; mortify and kill all vices in us, and so strengthen us by Thy grace, that by the innocency of our lives,
constancy of our faith even unto death, we may glorify Thy holy Name; through Jesus Christ our LORD. Amen.
A COLONIAL BISHOP. Many years ago it was said by one much revered among us, that “the Colonial Bishops might some day become the strength of our Church," and truly the words seem to us now almost prophetical; for who can estimate the vigour and life imparted to us here at home by the accounts of the self-sacrifice, the holy and untiring zeal, the primitive and apostolical life of our Bishops in the Colonies, their missionary character and hard labours for the Church. Many remember most of our Colonial Bishops as patient, indefatigable parish Priests, and rejoice to think that the powers which fitted them for that sphere at home, have been brought into full play in the distant home of their adoption. The perusal of some private letters from one of our Colonies, has induced us to put together a short sketch, to enable our readers to realize and estimate somewhat more truly than they can from the mere details of visitations and charges, the life of one of these fellow-workers with us, though so far away; and in the hope also that we may learn muché from the life that we shall do well to practise at home; for the preaching of the Gospel, we must never forget, always is, and always will be, in some sort, a “missionary work."
The first great sacrifice must be the parting from all but their own wife and children - friends old and tried, and relations dear all are left, perhaps, for ever-the intercommunion with these in its frequency is withdrawn—the advantages of literature, science, and refinement, all of which we receive without a thought of the privilege—all these are given up, and he starts on a long and dangerous voyage, to a land unknown, except by name, which be must henceforth look upon as his home.
On his arrival he will inhabit a temporary dwelling, till he is able to build a college and residence house, in or near the capital town of his province, and mostly at the water side, where may be
Bishop's cutter, at her moorings, ready at a short notice to convey him by a perilous voyage to distant and almost inaccessible parts of his diocese. In the college he will place some native youths who are to have their own language kept up, and then sent out to Christianize their countrymen. Their love for their Bishop is wonderful, and it is often so even among the wild savages of his diocese. Many of them prove this by willingly and joyfully entrusting their children to his care. Nor is his influence confined to his own diocese, but is felt and appreciated over adjacent colonies.
In the course of time he becomes well known to all his people, and is thrown with them as well as with his clergy. He knows every township and its inhabitants, and all about every clergyman, their position and wants. His way of moving about is most simple, and much more satisfactory than in our country. He spares himself so little. Now he is willing to undertake a journey of fifty or sixty miles to confirm six people, if the parish Priest writes word they are prepared, and that, in point of labour, is far more than many times that distance at home. He has no set time for confirmațion. In most of the townships he confirms some time in every year. To visit some parts he must take a journey long and perilous, of six weeks from his own home-perhaps a part where ihere is nothing but whaler's stations. The plan of his journey will be accurately made out first; perhaps in the whole six weeks every day but two or three will be entirely occupied in fixed services, confirmations, consecrations, laying foundation stones, &c. &c., leaving but little time for rest. He is cheered in some parts of the year by the beauties of nature-sometinies a view of mountain wood and water, with a sky as blue as that of Italy, with a clear, bracing air and bright sunshine. He feels the mere looking forth on such scenery to be a blessing.
The following is a description of the storms which are not unfrequent: “We were about eight miles from the township to which we were going, when we saw the sky towards the north-west darkening; but though the day had been sultry, it had not seemed unusual, so we still rode slowly; by the time we got to the government domain, four miles nearer, the whole sky was overcast, and there was a heavy, dark feeling in the air, with most perfect stillness-not a leaf stirred, the horses seemed awe struck, and every now and then we heard a long low growl of thunder. We rode as fast as we could, lest the storm should overtake us, over such places, such stones ! we bowed down to the horses' necks to keep out of the way of boughs. We emerged from the domain about a mile from the house, on such a piece of broken ground and all down hill; but though it seemed like madness we galloped on, feeling now blasts of hot wind full of gravel blowing on us, and it so dark—a crimson sort of darkness-we could scarcely see; the horses almost refused once or twice to face the storm. All this time the thunder was very distant; the lurid darkness at six o'clock made us think it would burst upon us most awfully. Just before we got to the gate such a hurricane commenced! The sky turned orange, every: thing you looked on seemed yellow, no thunder came, the waves lashed the shore, and the wind was burning as from a fiery furnace. Most thankful were we to find ourselves housed, and it seemed as if an earthquake must be coming on. However, the hot wind went on blowing until far in the night, and was not followed by rain, a thing unknown before. The Bishop's cutter was thrown from her moorings among the rocks on the beach, but happily we found her not so much injured as we expected.”
But these storms do not terrify our Bishop, who soon resumes his journey, and this time we will pictore him on his way (and a long and tedious way it was) to meet his brethren in solemn Synod at the chief town in the Colony, to reaffirm with prayer the true faith of the Church on the holy Sacrament of Baptism, and then to hold meetings, at which the best means of prosecuting their missionary labours are discussed, and where many cheering signs attend him. At one of the meetings a merchant proposed we should all subscribe for purchasing a sea-worthy schooner for the use of the good Bishop, whose diocese chiefly lay among the perilous navigation of the South Seas, and at once six or seven hundred pounds were raised, that that good man's life should not be risked by venturing out in bis small culter.
Shortly after Easter the Clergy come to meet their Bishop at his residence, and to receive his solemn charge-important no doubt it would be in the trying times there have been for the Church; when she has been in peril through the desertion of her own sons and daughters. Our Colonial Bishop, though anxious and depressed thereby, is not cast down, even when the names of dear friends are told him as having deserted the holy work, for which he so earnestly strives and prays. He exhorts his clergy to patience and perseverance, and to trust in Him to whom we must attribute the great revival of religion that has taken place, and we may be thankful that so many more now think about religion at all than formerly. He gives them practical rules for their guidance, more frequent services, prayers and praises, and holy Sacraments, to draw men to God their SAVIOUR. 'In a new Colony, or comparatively new, our Bishop will meet with few that sympathize with him and understand him; but even these few are a great help to him. The Colonists forget their Bishop sometimes in their eagerness for selflegislation or governing themselves, which, when they obtain it, may do more harm than good. What would it advantage Birmingham or Manchester to have a legislative assembly? Our Bishop, when at home, rises about half-past five or six. At eight the daily prayers are said, and after that is the family breakfast. The College takes the morning, except on Litany and Saints' Days, when the service is attended, and mostly assisted by the Bishop. Visiting and preparing lectures, and catechising, and plans for visitations occupy the remainder of the day. Our Bishop's only recreations are with his family in the evening, and consist chiefly of music, chess, or drawing; the former he cultivates much, and thus spreads a taste for the music of the Sanctuary. He has an organ in his house, the building of which he superintended himself, nobody in the Colony understanding it; and, after the labour and anxieties of the day, it is a great comfort and solace to him. Of his household and their regard for him, we can repeat
very words of one of them : “Daily do I bless God for leading me hither, our good Bishop makes me feel so completely at home; he treats me as a sister; bestows on me confidence and love; a great mercy it is to be so placed in this far away land. A great, great privilege it is to be placed under such a man, and one of the talents to be accounted for."
Thus our Colonial Bishop spends his days, and if this short sketch will help any of our readers to understand better the life of those, whom we may now say do form a great strength to our Church, our task will have been accomplished.
FOOTSTEPS OF SAINTS.
A TALE OF THE LAST DAYS OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
“For Thy Life is our Way; ... [made] by Thy example, and the footsteps of Thy saints, more bright and clear." --De Imitatione Christi.
On a beautiful morning in the Ides of May, A.v. 403, about three weeks after the battle of Pollentia, a monk might be seen traversing with hurried steps one of the principal streets of Rome. He appeared to be about thirty years of age, and his long, black, woollen robe fell in graceful folds around his tall and noble figure. His face was entirely colourless, but the features were perfect in their outline ; and his calm, pure brow spoke of the intellect and goodness within. He was proceeding with a quick step, and evidently lost in thought, when he was suddenly aroused by a friendly hand laid on his shoulder, and looking up, he saw before him a young man in the dress of a Roman officer, whose whole appearance marked him as a patrician of the highest rank. The monk immediately recognised him as a son of the great General Stilicho, who was now, from his valour and skill, become the chief support of the empire. The joy of this meeting was great to both, for Adrian had been the monk's earliest friend; and although the fortune of war had of late necessitated the frequent absence of the young soldier, the separation had not served to weaken their mutual affection.