"I am surprised at that. She has been helpless for a fortnight, and, you know, is very poor."

"Well, I believe you go about doing good. The bell will ring at the appointed hour. You had better go to chapel."

"Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only," was the exhortation which forced itself upon my mind.

Our benevolent visitor ascended to the apartment of the invalid, who was one of those fatherless ones which are especially commended to the care and kindness of God's people. She was alone. The chamber of sickness was also the chamber of solitude. A smile irradiated her sunken features when Mrs. Harlowe entered.

"You come like an angel of light to me," said she," to comfort my poor frail body, and to sustain my sinking spirit. It is desolate to be here, hour after hour, alone. I feel like a prisoner, upon whom the jailor looks three or four times a day, when he hands him his solitary meal."

"But the compassionate Jesus is with you?" said the pitying Mrs. Harlowe.

I

"Oh yes! I love, though, to look upon a human face-to hear the soft accents of the human voice. cannot read, and nature has become so feeble, that I cannot think. I want some one to speak to me of the promises, to tell me of my Saviour. The neighbours are generally very kind; but I have sometimes feared that I might die alone."

"I may be absent from home two or three hours, and I will stay with you," said Mrs. Harlowe. "Thank you! thank you! Thank God for sending you."

The pious lady, who thus endeavoured to manifest the Spirit of her Lord, sat by the poor victim of consumption, adjusted her pillow, administered to her wants, repeated the promises of God as she could

bear them, and when she was disposed to sleep, held a hand between the gentle pressure of her own, to give assurance of her wakeful presence as the tender and protecting mother soothes her timid and trembling child.

The invalid slept long and sweetly, and when she awoke, opened her eyes with an inquiring look. "I am here," said Mrs. Harlowe.

"Oh, I have been in heaven!" exclaimed the dying girl," and I heard the music of angelic harps

Holy! holy! holy!' And I tried to imitate their harmony, but could not. In my despair and agony you came to me, clothed in white, and singing a new song'-the song of the redeemed. I caught it from your lips. My spirit seemed to expand and grow as I gave utterance to the notes of praise and blessing; my whole soul was bathed in melody. I hear it still! I breathe the heavenly air! Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever.'"

A more than mortal joy irradiated the face of the invalid, as, with a strong and clear voice, she poured forth the rapture of her spirit; and then, in notes musical as if they had been born in heaven, she commenced that beautiful hymn of Pope's-The dying Christian to his soul.

Mrs. Harlowe stood spell-bound: she dared not interrupt her. She felt as if the poor sufferer was about to be translated from earth to heaven-the last journey, so short, but so full of meaning and mystery. It was a solemn thought. She was alone amid the imposing, secret, and appalling terrors of death! She was alone with one who was about to exchange her mortal drapery for the wings and habiliments of an angel, and experience that most sudden and inscrutable transition from a human to a heavenly nature!

She sunk upon her knees, and commended the departing soul unto Him who gave it. The song was finished, and the spirit ascended, breathing forth, like the fabled swan, the music of its own requiem. C. W. B.

THIS very splendid and commodious chapel was built a few years since for the Rev. Alexander Fletcher, M.A., who had been previously the minister of Albion Chapel, in the same vicinity of Finsbury Square. We had hoped to have given a brief sketch of the history of this beautiful building, and of the congregation worshipping within its walls, from the pen most qualified to give it; but after waiting for it in vain till the latest possible moment, we are obliged to ask our friends to accept this imperfect account. May the zealous pastor of this large congregation long continue to labour among them with constantly increasing success.

SCRAPS FROM THE EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO.

CLOSET DEVOTION." This day my new closet was consecrated with this prayer :-'That all the prayers that ever should be made in it, according to the will of God, morning, evening, and at noon, ordinary or extraordinary, might be accepted of God, and obtain a gracious answer. Amen and Amen."" It was a caution and advice which he frequently gave to his children and friends "Be sure you look to your secret duty; keep that up whatever you do; the soul cannot prosper in the neglect of it." He observed, that "apostacy generally begins at the closet door. Secret prayer is first neglected and carelessly performed, then frequently omitted, and after a while, wholly cast off, and then farewell God, and Christ, and all religion."-Life of P. Henry.