On the Lord's Supper.

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Lord's Supper, and having mentioned some of the benefits which you may expect to derive from receiving it aright, it remains that you consider the pleasure and comfort attending the right reception of this sacra

ment.

Our Church calls it the most 66 comfortable" sacrament of the body and blood of Christ: and those who, being duly prepared, have eaten the bread and drunk the wine in remembrance of their Master and Redeemer, will bear witness that there is great comfort in so doing.

Good children take delight in doing the will of their parents; good servants find satisfaction in obeying their master; and we, as the children and servants of God, are sure to feel both comfort and satisfaction in keeping God's commands. Besides, think what affecting words those are which were spoken by our Lord: "Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you." Would you not wish to be the friends of the Lord Jesus? Would you not anxiously desire to be beloved by Him? If you would desire this, and this we hope you do desire, then be careful to do his will; take pleasure in fulfilling his commands.

It is also a comfortable thing to receive the sacrament, because it brings to our remembrance, the great, the never-ending love of our gracious Lord. When we eat of that bread and drink of that cup, we have represented before our eyes the body and blood of Christ. And, when we remember why that body was broken and that blood shed; when we reflect that all this was done for us men and for our salvation, it strongly brings to our minds the unspeakable blessing which the love of Christ has procured us. Well might we say, when we approach his table, "Behold how he loved us." Behold how good, how merciful he has been to those who little deserved such lovingkindness at his hands. The sight of the bread and wine should bring to our remembrance his infinite regard for us for what are we, that he should leave

the heavens to visit us; what were we, that he should so have loved us, as to give himself to death for us? Is there no comfort in the thought, that we are beloved by one so great, so good, as the Lord our Redeemer? And is not this thought brought forcibly to our minds at the holy sacrament? There is comfort, there is joy in remembering the mercy of our Saviour; a joy and comfort far more pleasing than all the noisy mirth of an unthinking world.

Again, it is comfortable to do what our Lord bids us in remembrance of him, not only because it assures us of his love, but also because it shows to us the many and great advantages which he by his bloodshedding hath obtained for us. The forgiveness of sins; reconciliation with God; adoption into his family; hope in his promises; and an entrance into heaven: these are the blessings which the blood of Jesus has purchased for us: and they are blessings the remembrance of which should be a refreshment to our souls, when we come to the holy communion.

It is also comfortable to be at peace with all the world; and to magnify the name of our Redeemer, with his true disciples; with saints and angels, and all the company of heaven. With them to thank, with grateful hearts, the Lord of glory, and the Saviour of the world. Surely our hearts must be cold and unfeeling, if they find no happiness in this. If we love our Redeemer, we shall find, with David," what a joyful and pleasant thing it is to be thankful;" and as the Church invites us to do, we shall draw near with faith and take this holy sacrament to our comfort.

You have now seen what your Lord requires of you, when he says, "this do," namely, to eat bread and drink wine; you have seen also for what end he requires you to do this; namely, in "remembrance of him." You have seen that so to do, is your duty, and that it is profitable to you, and that it is a joyful and pleasant thing to the true of heart.

Come, then, and commemorate his dying love;

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The best and the fairest of the Lambs. pray that you may have faith to know that he is present at the holy feast; pray that your love to him may be increased, and your obedience to his will be made more perfect; that so, when this life is ended, you may come to his eternal joy; and that when heaven's gates lift up again their heads to receive the Lord of glory, you may follow him to his Father's house, and be with him for ever, where he is.

I. M.

THE BEST AND THE FAIREST OF THE LAMBS. MR. EDITOR,

THE name of the excellent and lamented Heber, Bishop of Calcutta, must be known to your readers, from the various pieces of his beautiful poetry, which you have already inserted in your little work. Perhaps you will find a place in some future Number, for the following short extract from a Memoir of his "Last Days," written by Archdeacon Robinson, who, as his lordship's domestic chaplain, while in India, was, in some degree, a sharer of his labours, and who appears not only to have sincerely loved and revered his admirable character, but also to have duly appreciated the value of his confidence and friendship.

I remain, Sir, yours faithfully, C. L. H.

"In the month of February, 1826, during the Bishop's voyage from Calcutta to Madras, on his first and last visit to the southern part of his extensive diocese; among the passengers on board the Bussorah Merchant, was a lady in very weak health, who was going to England with a sickly infant of two months old, and leaving her husband in Calcutta. The child was suddenly seized with convulsions, and, after lingering through the day, in the evening breathed its last sigh. The Bishop spent much time in the cabin of the poor bereaved mother, comforting and praying with her; and while she was bitterly lamenting her

loss. Instead of checking her expressions of impatience, and prescribing to her the duty of submission, he told her the following beautiful apologue, as one with which he had himself been affected.

"A shepherd was mourning over the death of his favourite child, and in the passionate and rebellious feeling of his heart, was bitterly complaining that what he loved most tenderly, and was in itself most lovely, had been taken from him. Suddenly a stranger of grave and venerable appearance stood before him, and beckoned him forth into the field. It was night, and not a word was spoken till they arrived at the fold, when the stranger thus addressed him: When you select one of these lambs from the flock you choose the best and most beautiful among them; why should you murmur, because I, the good shepherd of the sheep, have selected from those which you have nourished for me, the one which was most fitted for my eternal fold?' The mysterious stranger was seen no more, and the father's heart was comforted."

EXTRACT FROM THE MEMOIRS OF PASTOR OBERLIN.

MR. OBERLIN, the excellent Pastor of the Steinthal, was greatly assisted in all his labours of love by a poor orphan, whose situation in his family was originally only that of a servant, but who, by her piety, fidelity, and usefulness, became his confidential friend and fellow-labourer. She was taken into the family by Mrs. Oberlin, at the age of fifteen, and even then, began to render herself useful by her talents, activity, and industry. She was treated with the greatest kindness, and received the best instruction; and the whole of her subsequent life proved her gratitude for the one, and her attention to the other. She considered Mr. and Mrs. Oberlin as parents, and devoted herself

Extract from the Memoirs of Pastor Oberlin. 163

entirely to their service, not from any views of worldly advantage, but because she knew that, in so doing, she was performing the will of her Master and Father in heaven. From this motive, she was always ready to assist to the utmost of her power, not only in the concerns of the family, but in all the good works that her master was carrying on in his parish, and this, without regarding any labour, hardship, or bodily suffering she might have to endure. She would go about to the different villages, through dreadful roads, and often in the most inclement weather, chiefly for the purpose of assembling the children, in order to impart to them all the good instruction she had herself received from her master and mistress. She taught them to read, and pray, and sing hymns, and was indefatigable in overcoming the difficulties she had to contend with, from the wildness and frowardness of the children, and their ignorance of French, (the proper language of their country, and of their books,) instead of which they could only speak a rude sort of mixed jargon called patois. After days spent in this manner, and in crossing roads where the snow sometimes lay so deep that she was almost lost in it, this self-devoted being would, on her return late in the evening, regardless of wet, cold, and weariness, set herself immediately to the care of the children, or to some household business. When she was about three-andtwenty, her excellent mistress died, and, from that time, Louisa became housekeeper to Mr. Oberlin, and a second mother to his children. Her health was already seriously injured by the effects of over fatigue, and frequent exposure to the extremes of heat and cold; but this did not prevent her from devoting herself to the new duties she now undertook. She managed all the concerns of the household with the most perfect care and fidelity; she had assisted in bringing up the children, and had now the entire care of them. In sickness she was the nurse, and in affliction, the comforter, of the whole family. She was, besides, ready for any