I never lost a dear friend when the remembrance of unkind expressions, and improper thoughts and feelings, and neglected opportunities of doing good did not roll over my sinking heart; and I have wished, as I stood beside the weeping mother in the silent chambers of death, and drew aside the curtain, and gazed upon the cold clay, that I could recall the dear departed for one moment, so that I might throw my arms around his warm neck, and with tears entreat forgiveness. I now stand, in effect, at the graves of many that I love. You may live; but in all probability you will be to me as dead. Our intercourse is about to cease, and we shall see each other's faces no more. In looking back, I have reason to mourn. I see many moments that I have misimproved-many unworthy examples that I have set before you; and although I have toiled with a feeble frame and a heavy heart, and wet my couch with tears, when no eye but that of God could see me, yet I fear that I have not labored for you, that I have not felt for you, that I have not prayed for you as I should have done. Think of these regrets, and may God grant that they may be sanctified to our mutual good! If I have misconstrued any action which was well intended, or formed a wrong opinion of any of you, or struck a single spirit an unnecessary blow, I confess with shame and sorrow, and pray that you will forgive me.

Alas! there are some to whom these acknowledgments come too late. Franklin B. Sain is no more. We saw him sicken and die. We have laid his body in the narrow house. May we not hope that angels have conveyed his soul to its rest in the bosom of God? And where is Ralph Johnson, the facetious, lively Ralph He lies beneath the waves of the Sandusky Bay. In a moment, joyous, heedless, alone, in the midnight storm, and longing to return to your society, the rude wind capsized his little bark, and he sunk to rise no more. Alas! in vain did the father, in his anguish, call for his dear Ralph-in vain did Leonard search along the shore for his only and well beloved brotherin vain did the mother look out upon the unconscious waters for her youngest and fondest son. Manning B. Seymour, where is he? He was to have been present, to walk through these aisles, to assist in spreading these carpets, to seat these ladies, to participate in your hilarity, and to listen to my voice. Alas! you dragged his body from those fatal waters with your own hands. In slow and solemn procession you followed him through those streets. One by one you gazed and wept upon his coffin, and saw him borne for ever from your sight. These instances admonish us to be also ready.

We part. We may never meet again on earth. We must meet amid the fires of the last day. May we meet at the right hand of the Judge, to whom commending you, I now bid you a final and affectionate farewell.

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SLEEP, the type of death, is also, like that which it typifies, restricted to the earth. It flies from hell, and is excluded from heaven.

Original.

YOUTHFUL PIETY.

BY THE EDITOR.

"By cool Siloam's shady rill

How sweet the lily grows!
How sweet the breath beneath the hill
Of Sharon's dewy rose!

Lo! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod;
Whose secret heart with influence sweet,

Is upward drawn to God."

THE Bible suits its admonitions to every age. It addresses not only the mature and the decrepid, but condescends to "little children," and proffers happiness to the young.

"Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth," is its solemn adjuration to those who are passing from the scenes of childhood to the graver periods of active life. The days of youth may be reckoned those which intervene between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. The former may be considered the limit of childhood and the latter of youth. The preacher's exhortation, therefore, applies in all its force during at least ten years of our probation.

God is mindful of the peculiar temptations which beset this period of life. He knows, too, that inexperience of the vanity of the world adds greatly to the dangers of the youthful. He is aware of the strong inclination of all unrenewed hearts to the delights of sense. He therefore addresses the young with kindness, and yet with authority. He points out to them the value of religion in its temporal uses, and then warns them, by the coming judgment, not to forget God.

What is it to remember our Creator? It is not an unimpressive notion of God. This is common to the most careless. To think of God as we think of stars in the day-time, both being out of sight, and pictured only by the imagination, is a vain service. The task to which the preacher invokes is far more serious. They who indulge such careless thoughts of Jehovah, insult his mercy and majesty. The remembrance of God here urged upon us must be a grave, purposed, and pains-taking labor.

To remember our Creator is not an occasional thinking about him. It is no virtue to have our uneasy minds, full as they are of change and wanderings, sometimes light upon God. No degree of stupidity, or aggravated sinfulness, can prevent this. We must blot God's name from our language, and the idea which it conveys from our minds, before we can wholly cease to think of God. The vilest transgressors have occasional meditations about the eternal and self-existentthe omnipresent and omniscient Creator.

To remember our Creator is not a fitful awe and dread of him, which soon passing away, leaves no savor of devotion-no high resolve of piety. The righteous are in awe of Jehovah; but theirs is habitual reverence, and is displayed in their words and actions.

YOUTHFUL PIETY,

The wicked may occasionally fear and quake when God comes in his wrathful providences, and overwhelms them with the conviction that he will sometime visit and consume his foes.

To remember our Creator is not an occasional misgiving of our worldly affections, or a momentary inclination of our feelings towards God. Such states of mind now and then unaccountably occur in the most depraved and obdurate. They are scarcely "states," as that implies fixedness. They probably owe their origin, for the most part, to the "drawings of the Father," or to a divine influence shed forth upon men, which softens their hearts, and strongly attracts them towards God. This influence is alluded to by our Savior when he says, "No man can come unto me, except the Father draw him." Some have mistaken these "drawings" for religion. Indeed, it is probable that a large number of those who "hope" they are the children of God, have experienced no more than these "drawings of the Father." Had they followed on to know the Lord, instead of the fears and hopes which attend their anxious, unconverted state, their light would have become as the noon-day.

359

will, with mighty force, send our thoughts in a spontaneous and joyful flow towards him.

Remembering God implies disregard of others-not

a positive, but a comparative disregard. We must loosen the mind and the heart from the world. And we can easily determine whether we remember God. If we spend more hours daily in thinking of him than we do of the world-of its business, its gains, and its delights; and if we do it with a free and gratified heart, then we do remember God. If our thoughts move in that current, and thus flow towards God, not by constraint, but as it were naturally, we may rejoice, for grace has gotten us the victory.

Remembering God implies a disregard of ourselves. A sense of God's glory will make us abhor ourselves. How can one be said to remember God who is full of himself. He that does not hate his friends and his "own life also," (that is, comparatively,) cannot, says Jesus, be my disciple.

Remembering God implies that he is our all. The soul that does not take him for its portion must forget him. God abhors every heart that does not thus receive him, and tears himself away from it. We must not It is time now to consider what positives are implied only prefer him to all things, but it must be a strong in remembering our Creator. It implies serious and and decided preference—we must be sick of every thing diligent meditation on his character and government. beside. We must be so charmed by his ineffable gloMeditation sometimes denotes a song. Indeed, this is ries, as to lothe all else. All creatures in comparison its original import. But we now use it to express a with him must look repulsive, so that the heart will, as continuous train of thought on some grave theme. To it were, fall sick at the sight of them. Then shall we assist our meditations on the divine character and gov-| feel the full force of those words, Whom have I in ernment, we may read, converse, sing, pray, hear the|| heaven but thee; and there is none upon the earth that Gospel preached, or dispensing with these aids, may sit I desire beside thee!" in solitary quiet, and revolve in our minds the character and attributes of God. We may, through grace, form a habit of dwelling on religious themes, and then employ most of our time in inquiries connected with our eternal salvation. If unconverted, these meditations will bring to our hearts a distressing conviction of our wickedness and danger-if converted, they will quicken us in our Christian journey, and increase our joy in God.

These are the several things implied in remembering our Creator. And now let us turn to another branch of the subject.

Ought we not to remember God? Is it an unreasonable service? Suppose God sustained no relation to us-that we were independent of him, in the origin and in the issues of our being, ought we not even then to remember him? So it seems to me. God is the most excellent being in the universe. All the beauty and

Remembering God implies a knowledge of him.glory of the creatures, are cyphers in comparison with What we never traced we cannot remember. Before memory can hold it the mind must acquire it. But serious and diligent thoughts of God will, by divine teaching, make us acquainted with him, and then we are called to remember him.

Remembering God implies that we are deeply sensible of his being and his presence. We must not only see, but feel that there is a God. We must realize his perfections. We must have a strong assurance that his providence is over us-that not a sparrow falls to the ground without his notice. Without this deep sense of God's being and presence, we shall forget him. If the heart let God go, the head can keep no hold of him. But if the heart receive and retain him in its affections, to think of him will be natural, and in some sort, inevitable. Then our "meditation of him will be sweet." He will become the blessed object of our thankful and devout contemplation. Our affections

the excellence of God. To forget trifles is well enough. But whoever remembers creatures and forgets God, forgets all that is glorious, and is mindful only of the vile. We should abhor to see a man gathering weeds and casting away diamonds. How must angels abhor to see us gathering the filthy creatures into our hearts, and shutting out the all-glorious Creator—the infinitely blessed original and fountain of all beauty and all excellence. To love the saints who bear some faint resemblance to him, and to admire angels, the messengers of his love and the ministers of his beneficence, are reckoned virtues. How much more worthy of our warmest admiration is the Maker of both saints and angels! Assuming, then, that God is neither our Maker nor Preserver, we ought never to forget him. His infinite perfections alone challenge our supreme regard.

But how is this obligation strengthened by our relation to him. In the language of the preacher he is our

"Creator." To forget him as God is brutish, but to || in providence and in grace, to remind us of God. First, forget him as our Creator is devilish. Its flagrancy here is the machinery of the visible universe, in all its ! cannot be estimated. Let us suppose ourselves stand-grandeur, beauty and utility, which like the cunning ing by and witnessing a new creation. First, God workmanship of a master artist, should always serve to originates the chaotic elements. Then he divides the fix our minds on the adorable Maker. By the economy waters and produces the solid surface. Next he creates of our being we are every hour compelled to witness thousands of animated tribes, and dismisses them to the movements of nature, We dwell amidst the whirl expatiate all abroad. After a solemn pause, with a slow of its wheels, and receive each moment the products of deliberation, he proceeds to form a human body from its labor. We sow and reap the fields, whose waving the dust, framing it with a fearful and wonderful me- harvests spring from her elaborative, mysterious prochanism. Then he breathes into it the breath of life, cesses. Our bodies and souls reveal to us a God. and fills it with vigorous animation. Last of all, he Their fearful and wonderful construction, with which stamps its vital powers with a mental constitution, and we are of necessity so intimate, affords us constant and impresses on it the subtle energies of spiritual and convincing admonitions of the being and the goodness moral life. The new-made being glances around with of our Creator. O how can we forget God! While an eye of intelligence, and fixes his admiring gaze upon we are mindful that we live and move, how can we his all-glorious Creator, who addresses him thus: forget that we live, move and have our being in Him? "Child of my love, I have just now formed you from the dust on which you tread. I have given you these senses. I have animated your frame. I have bestowed upon you power to think, to love, and to act, that you may think of your origin, love your Creator, serve him, commune with him, and be blessed." This offspring of the Deity listens at first, and understands; but while God continues speaking, he turns away, and begins to amuse himself with the butterfly or flowret at his feet. God calls him in vain. He lays his hand upon him to divert him from his untimely amusement in vain. In vain he invokes him in the language of alternate love and anger. Thenceforth, the immortal child of Jehovah forgets his heavenly Parent, and while joyful in the beneficent ministrations of his providence, he has an eye, an ear, and a heart for every thing but God. This is a picture of indevotion. The sinner's image is reflected in this mirror. Whoever forgets God is the monster sketched in the above piece.

The benevolence of Divine providence should remind us of God. If the gift of a parent draws towards him the affectionate thoughts of his child, how ardently and unceasingly should our hearts incline to our eternal Benefactor. All our comforts drop from his hand. Those which our friends and parents minister flow from him as their ultimate source. Nay, he first bestows friends and parents, and inspires in their bosoms that regard for us which renders them watchful of our happiness, and munificent in their gifts of love. Shall we remember and admire the ministers of his mercy, and forget the gracious Power who sends them into the world, and commissions them to supply our wants from his own bounteous stores? Every thing we eat, drink and wear-our every breath should carry our adoring thoughts to God. "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."

"But God commendeth his love toward us in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." No other token of divine regard is worthy to be mentioned in comparison with this. O to live in a world, and be one of a race of beings for whom God gave his Son, and for whom the Son gave his ease and his honors and his life! It is enough to burst the graves, and bring up the dead, with halleluiahs on their lips. And can a

But God has, if possible, a still higher claim to our regard—a claim founded on his redeeming acts and sufferings. Here mortals stand alone. No other beings are drawn towards God by any such attraction, or are bound to him by any such ties. Jehovah became incarnate for man alone. For others he acted; for man he suffered. For others he lived; for man he died Let angels forget him, but man never-no, never. Let us close with a few reflections on the means of mortal thus redeemed forget Almighty God, the author remembering God. of this unfathomable bounty? Be astonished, ye heavens!

Our acts of recollection depend on what philosophers call association. The more numerous and obvious the points of ideal connection between existing and possible themes of thought, the more easily do we pass from the former to the latter. A curious machine reminds us of the inventor. A beneficent deed leads us to inquire for its benevolent author. The gift of a friend or a parent, brings before us the image of the kind and beloved donor. Not to extend the notice of these obvious and numerous principles of association, let us turn and inquire whether they are found in connection with our relations to God, and the dealings of his providence with us.

Now consider how many things there are in nature,

Let the youthful reader turn and remember God. Take God into your heart and you will remember him. Memory clings to those we love. O let your young affections embrace your Creator and Redeemer. Seek his love-seck till his love is shed abroad in your heart. You must seck-you must obtain-you must be changed in your affections till you love God with all your heart, or you must be a demon for ever. If you have been renewed, and have received the Savior, beware how you wander in affection. Shut out the world from your heart. Be sober-watch unto prayer; and remember,

"He who in his statutes treads,
Shall meet him in the skies."

THE INDIAN CONVERT.

361

Original.

THE INDIAN CONVERT.

The following letter was addressed to Bishop Morris, fn his late tour to the northern conferences. It is worthy of a place in the Repository. The reader will recollect it is from an Indian. The original letter is before us, and is written in a remarkably neat style of penmanship. Not one in ten of our business men can write as well. The orthography and punctuation are more defective. We present it, except in these particulars, just as it appears in the manuscript.-ED.

want of living bread. And one missionary ask me (his
name was John Clark) that if I was willing to follow
him in his missionary labor. I told him I was willing
to go. Then I told my father and mother what I
heard from the missionary. As soon as I had made an
end of speaking, they say, "My son, you cannot go
away, because you are too young to leave us, and you
cannot take care of yourself well; and if you are sick
no body will take care of you." Then I told them,
"My dear parents, is God too unkind to take care of me
wherever I go-to give me favor in my young days, or
is God too thoughtless to forget me: if I fall in sick-
ness, will he not take good care of me? Surely he
will show me his great kindness even on my dying
bed." And my mother told me again, "My son, how
can your father and myself let you go?
You are
younger than the rest of my family. We love you.
Why will you forsake us? We are getting old, thou
knowest. We shall die soon; then you will go
wherever you please." And I told my mother, "O,
dear parent, I know you cannot let me go; but God
knows that how he can let me go. O, the God of
heaven and earth will bless you. I command you to
trust in God; then we shall see each other in heaven
before the dazzling throne of God." Then my mother
wept, and she beheld me weeping, tears on her
cheek, and said, "My dear son, the Lord will bless
you. I let you go, for God calls you into the ministry.
Be faithful."

MY DEAR BROTHER,-I write a few lines to you to tell you the salvation of God towards me since I cast away my blanket from my body, and my images, or gods, before mine eyes, whom I worshiped many days, and served them with much prayer and fasting. While I set in darkness, and in the shadow of death, I heard a voice, saying, "Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy!" Then I beheld the man. Be hold, he points to heaven, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Then I repent of my sins. It was a bitter medicine I ever tasted. Then I cried out before the man of God the language of every poor sinner, "O Lord, what must I do to be saved?" || The good man told me, saying, "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Then I believed in the Lord Jesus, my Savior. As soon as I believed, my sorrowful heart was turned into great joy. I went home rejoicing and praising God on the way. I took my images, the gods of my father, and I did burn and destroy them; and I said, "I know now I have been traveling since that time from place to my Redeemer liveth." My poor soul was happy in|| place, and along the shore of Lake Superior, calling God-my heart was filled with the love of God. Then my fellow men to come to Christ by faith, and be saved. I had a clear evidence that I was a child of God. IO how often I have a glorious time! My poor soul felt to tell all men what great things God has done for praised the Lord-my poor heart was filled with the me; but I was too young to leave my parents. How-love of God. O what a glorious cause! although I ever, I put my trust in God, knowing that he is an often have been tired, not only in preaching but in eternal being. O, God, thou art from everlasting to foot traveling. When the snow is deep in the winter everlasting! I could not help of thinking that it was time, when I walked so many days that my feet bled, I my duty to go and tell my fellow men to come to was very tired, hungry, and cold. Sometimes I am Christ, that they may have a new heart, and saved thinking of brethren's house, if I could stay to-night, from their sins by the blood of the Lamb. The Spirit how comfortably I will be; but I must dig the snow, of God told my poor heart to ask God, through Jesus and make my nest in a cold place to lodge in during Christ, that the favor of God might fill my heart. night. It was a cold night. Ah! "the foxes have While I prayed to the God of heaven and earth, he holes, and the fowls of the air have nests, but the Son blessed me. My vessel filled with the love of God- of man had no place to lay his head." O, ye missionit run over. O, what a glorious feeling was this! aries, be not discouraged, but "rather rejoice, because Then I arose from the bosom of my dear parents, and your names are written in heaven." O what encourfelt willing "go into all the world, and preach the Gos-agement is this: "Be thou faithful unto death, and I pel to every creature," and point sinners to "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world."

O, my brother, while I am writing, the missionary spirit burns in my poor heart. O, how can we be idle, while the wide field is opened before us! My fellow laborer in the Gospel, how do you feel about the glorious work of God? Ah, brother, I know you are happy in God. Your heart is filled with the love of God. I tell you, my brother, what I feel when the missionary spirit burns in my poor heart. O, some times makes me to jump out of my chair. What is it for? Why, I see so many poor souls who starve for

will give thee a crown of life." O, what a glorious company will that be; when all faithful missionaries cease from their labor, we shall wear the dazzling crown upon our own heads!

And when I came down from the Lake Superior to my appointment this year, I took a small birch bark canoe from Iron river to Kah-ke-wa-oo-naun mission, because I could not find any passage; but by the help of God I determined to come down by myself; and when I started coming down, I had little provision for my journey; and the chief at the place where I started gave me old tomahawk and one paddle. That day I

362

THE INDIAN CONVERT.

started, it was very pleasant; and in the evening began
to be stormy weather; and when I could not go any
farther, so stormy, thundering and lightning, me just
kah-e-zhe-ah-gwha-bah-e-wa-yaun; that is, I did run to
the land. And I stayed all night on the sand beach,
and in the morning it was very heavy wind; so I stayed
about two days in that place. But, thank God, I was
not comfortless-I had the good Book, the words of
eternal life. Our Savior says, "I will not leave you
comfortless; I will come unto you;" another word, "I
am with you even unto the end of the world." It come!
to my mind, while I stayed in that place, to make me
two ah-zha-bwe-yah-nun; that is, back sitting paddles;
but I had nothing to make them with, only a small
penknife and old tomahawk, and I thought to try it. I
took my old tomahawk-it was very dull-and I hewed
one of the small logs. Took me a great while to finish
them. As soon as I was done hewing, I set down on
the ground, and work it out all day with poor penknife.
Just about to finish my oars, I broke my penknife.
Then I said, "Thank the good Lord that I finished my
oars!" And in the evening I determined to go on all
night, because the wind fail; and I thought it would
be calm all night. So I pushed out my little canoe,
and rowing until twelve o'clock. As I go along on the
top of the waves, I sung some good hymns with joy
toward my Savior. And about two o'clock the wind
blew very hard. Just about half an hour the waves
made a terrible noise. I could not land, it so rocky
and steep place along the shore. The waves made
fearful noise, beating against the shore, and I could not
see, it was so dark; but I must try to run to the shore.
I thought surely will lose either of my life or my little
canoe. In a moment I started head toward the shore,
and one of the largest waves coming, and opening his
large mouth like a great whale, I thought, "Old fellow,
you will swallow me up." Good old fellow cast me
on his back, then he runs very fast toward the shore.
I thought my poor canoe will go to pieces. He cast || doo Mun-ze-nuh-e-gun, signifies benevolent God's Book.
me on the dry ground. Then I jump out and look
back. I could not see my old horse-where is he gone
to? I lift up my heart to the almighty God with praise
and thanksgiving, preserving my life out of the mouth
of mighty waves to put my feet on the dry land. I
remember the words of our Lord and Master, saying,
"The hairs of your head are all numbered, and none
of them falleth to the ground without notice of your
heavenly Father; and are you not of more value than
the fowls? O, ye of little faith!" And the next
morning was a little calm; then I started ahead. About
noon the wind changed. I had a sideway wind. I did
sail some; but it was very heavy rain; and after sunset
I saw a good harbor; then I stopped in that place to
stay all night. The next morning was very fair wind,
but most too hard wind for me to sail. I was halting
for awhile whether I should go on or not; finally, my I was willing to leave my native country and come
mind fixed to go on, because so fair wind for sailing. down to the place where I was appointed, knowing
And when I was farther out of the lake I found it was that God sending his unworthy servant where he may
too heavy sea for me to be out of the lake. I thought be useful. God forbid that I ever feel to make my
I missed the mark for this time. I tried to turn back-choice of the place where I shall labor! My brethren,

I could not make out. The hard wind was as a whip
snapping against my canoe, and I found no way to get
shore again. It was better for me to put up sail. So I
did; then I sailed very fast; and about nine o'clock the
wind began to blow very hard, the waves rolling as the
rocks rushing down from the steep place; and I thought
every wave will swallow me up; but I sung a good
missionary hymn; then my poor soul rejoiced in God
my Savior. I praised my God for his goodness towards
me while the walls of water round about me; and as I
was sailing, I saw at a great distance a good harbor. If
I could get there, then I might possibly get the shore;
but I doubt whether I shall get there or not. By the
providence of God I got the shore; and there was a
high bluff close to that place when I landed; and I
went upon the top of the bluff, and when I got there I
turned my face toward the lake, and I said, "Ah! ye
mighty waves, I conquered you-I stand above you-
ye are under my feet-the place where I am now you
will never be able to come up!" Then I lift up my eyes
to God, and said, “O, blessed God, by thy mighty
strength I got in this place; while I come up here I
have passed through fearful waves, who try to swallow
me up. O, thou hast put my little canoe in the hollow
of thy hand!" And while I said this, I immediately
remember when I shall cease my labor here below, and
get up there on the mount of God in eternal day, to
wear the dazzling crown the Lord Jesus prepared for
us by his precious blood. Halleluiah! I began to
rejoice; and again I remember the words of our blessed
Savior, saying, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I
will give thee a crown of life." And the next day it
was very pleasant; and about nine o'clock I crossed
one portage, and I did carry my canoe and things on
my back. After sunset I come to the place where I
spent the Sabbath. I was really tired out that evening.
And the next day, being Sabbath, I rest, and reading
the good Book of God. What we called Ke-zha-mun-e-

Conversing with our heavenly Father all the day long, he did bless me. Monday morning I started again; and about four o'clock I got home at the Kah-ke-wa-oo-naun mission.

I was half sick. And after I spent number of days at the mission, we started, brother John Kahbege and myself and three other Indian brethren at the mission, coming down to Sault de St. Marie mission. We got a very large canoe; and I thought I had quite good company this time. And after we got at Sault de St. Marie mission, I stayed a few days in that place, waiting for the arrival of brother Wm. H. Brockway from conference, the superintendent at Sault de St. Marie and Kah-kewa-oo-naun missions; and he told me that I was appointed by the conference to Lakeville mission, where I am now.