male laborers in the vineyard of the Lord Jesus, who, being themselves devoted to his service, desire, above all things, to bring many other souls to him.

7th. For the youth, that God may preserve them from the seducing influence of bad example, and lead them to the knowledge of our gracious Redeemer.

"THIRDLY. Every Saturday evening all the members shall ask God to bless the preaching of his Holy Word on the morrow."

CHAPTER V.

Death of Mrs. Oberlin-Its effect upon Oberlin's mindLouisa Schepler becomes his housekeeper-Letter from the latter-Letter, taken from a German Magazine printed at Tubingen, containing an account of Oberlin and his family, in the year 1793-Death of his eldest son Frederic.*

ANIMATED by desires of usefulness, habitually relying on the goodness of their heavenly Father, and stimulating each other to active exertion in the performance of every Christian

* The editor regrets that she has not been able to procure any particular documents relative to Oberlin's proceedings, in the interval between the death of his wife, in 1784, and that of his son Frederic, in 1793. That his exertions for the good of his flock were, however, carried forward with unrelaxed energy, the improved appearance of the Ban de la Roche, and the extraordinary change effected amongst the young people there, during that period, bear ample testimony. Since writing the above lines, the editor has had the gratification of receiving a corroboration of her statement, from Mr. Heisch. "It was during this period," he writes, "that I mostly visited

duty, Oberlin and his beloved Madeleine passed sixteen years in a union cemented by the ties of the strongest affection. Their family now consisted of seven children, Frederic, Fidelité Caroline, Charles Conservé, Henry Gottfried, Louisa Charité, Henrietta, and Frederica Bienvenue, all of whom were brought up under the paternal roof.*

On the 18th of January, 1784, it pleased God that an event should take place, which had a most powerful influence both upon the cast of his mind and the whole of his future life. This was the loss of his wife. She died rather suddenly, about ten weeks after her last confinement. No unfavorable symptoms, no incipient disease had prepared Oberlin for this distressing separation. When first informed of it, he was so much overpowered as to remain for some moments plunged in the deepest silence, and unable to give utterance to his feelings. At length, after this interval of melan

the Ban de la Roche once a year for a few weeks. I found the different intellectual, religious, and moral engines always at work, with more or less energy; and practical alterations and improvements always going forwards."

* "I knew Oberlin," says Mr. Heisch, "as the playfellow and instructor of his children when they were young, and as their friend and counsellor when they arrived at years of maturity. In the character of instructor, he so well knew how to mingle affection with earnestness, and even with severity when requisite, that his children both loved and respected him; and in that of a friend, there was an endearing tenderness that not only constituted their happiness, but formed also a constant stimulus to their exertions."

choly stupor, he was observed suddenly to fall on his knees and return thanks to God, that the object of his tenderest solicitude was now beyond the reach or the need of prayer, and that he had crowned the abundance of his mercies towards her, by giving her so easy and gentle a dismissal. He has himself commemorated, in a written fragment, which will be inserted in a future part of this memoir, the emotions by which he was agitated in these moments of bitter suffering. "Upon this occasion," says he, 66 as upon a thousand others in the course of my life, notwithstanding my overwhelming affliction, I was upheld, by God's gracious assistance, in a remarkable manner."

From that time the passive graces shone as conspicuously in his character as the active virtues had hitherto done. Neither complaint nor murmur escaped his lips. It might be said that he had not ceased to live in the society of the Christian wife whom he had lost. Every day he devoted whole hours to holding communion with her in those elevated frames of mind, which require not the aid of superstition to make us conscious of the presence of those whom we love. A speedy reunion, in the mansions of our Father's house, was, nevertheless, one of his most cherished desires. "I hope," he would often say, " that the world in which God will reunite me to my beloved wife will soon open to me."

This desire had nothing of a transitory character; it was not the mere result of acute grief, nor the effect of any habitual melancholy. Although his sorrows might have contributed

to strengthen it, it had its origin in a religious feeling. Like St. Paul, he desired to depart to be with Christ, which to him was far better. He longed to be able to unite his voice with hers he had lost, in singing the song of the Lamb, and to participate in that "fullness of joy" which "God hath prepared for those who love him." "I have had all my life," he says, in the paper to which allusion has been already made, and which was written the very year he lost his wife, "a desire, occasionally a very strong one, to die, owing, in some degree, to the consciousness of my moral infirmities, and of my frequent derelictions. My affection for my wife and children, and my attachment to my parish, have sometimes checked this desire, though for short intervals only."

These few words seem to lay open the very secret of his soul. While he was blasting rocks, levelling roads, building bridges, fertil izing fields, improving the morals and promoting the happiness of his flock, the expressions just cited, prove what was the moving principle by which he was actuated. That which induced him to become the benefactor of these districts -that which led him to devote so much time to the prosecution of his plans, was the everpresent thought of death and eternity; and the habitual remembrance of the responsibility attached to talents, and to opportunities of usefulness. He knew that his soul would be required of him; he desired that it might be so speedily; and, in order that he might hear the joyful sound, "Well done, good and faithful servant," he dedicated every faculty he pos

sessed to the interests of others, living himself by faith in the Son of God, and resting entirely on his propitiation.

His patience and resignation not only under this, but under every other affliction that it pleased God to award to him during the whole course of his life, was striking and exemplary. After the first bitterness of grief was over, his soul always seemed "to be girding itself up," and, as it were, "stretching its wings" in expectation of that joyful period when it should leave mortality behind, and soar to the regions of everlasting blessedness-to join "the innumerable company of angels, and the general assembly and church of the first-born." "Millions of times," he continues, in the paper mentioned above," have I besought God to enable me to surrender myself with entire and filial submission to his will, either to live or to die : and to bring me into such a state of resignation, as neither to wish, nor to say, nor to do, nor to undertake any thing, but what He, who only is wise and good, sees to be best."

The following extract from a letter which he wrote to a lady, who had been tried by many successive bereavements, in the hope of convincing her that such dispensations are permitted, to strengthen our graces, and to promote our spiritual refinement, will illustrate his lively faith and fervent piety, as well as the simple and original mode in which he was accustomed to pour out the language of his heart in epistolary converse. "I have before me two stones, which are in imitation of precious stones. They are both perfectly alike in color; I