from the burden of the flesh, are in joy and felicity; we give Thee hearty thanks, for that it hath pleased Thee to deliver this our brother out of the miseries of this sinful world; beseeching Thee, that it may please Thee, of thy gracious goodness, shortly to accomplish the number of thine elect, and to hasten thy kingdom; that we, with all those that are departed in the true faith of thy holy name, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in thy eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

How cheering are these words to survivors! We have just seen the coffin lowered; we have lost sight of the object of our heart's tenderest affections; the cold grave (so it seems) has got what we have possessed, and what we long to recover. But no! the words (and they are the clear, solemn, and unhesitating words of the Church) tell us that it is not so: our brother or our sister is not there. The dews shall distil, the showers shall fall, and the storms shall sweep over their coffined forms, but they themselves are far away; they are at home: they are in the presence of Christ; in the keeping of GOD; they rest, happy, happy spirits! in His presence, "in joy and felicity." No room, therefore, for

our pity: let us neither pity, nor—what we may be more tempted to do-too keenly envy them; let us bless GOD who has delivered them from the miseries of this sinful world; and while we earnestly strive to follow and patiently wait to meet them, let us constantly pray for "that perfect consummation in bliss, both of body and soul," for them as well as for ourselves, for which the Church directs us to supplicate.

But there is something peculiar in the expression of this same Apostle, "Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in GOD." The death here spoken of is the death to sin: he says, therefore, to true Christians, that they are already dead and buried; nay, more, that their life is even now in the company and keeping of Christ. But if this be the case, death natural can make no alteration in this respect. The life of a saint departed can only be with Christ: this is its enthunasia. But, it was with Him before: it is not therefore changed in locality; it remains where it was, in blessedness and in bliss.

SAINTS DEPARTED.

Weep not for me;—

Be blithe as wont, nor tinge with gloom The stream of love that circles home, Light hearts and free!

Joy in the gifts Heaven's bounty lends; Nor miss my face, dear friends!

I still am near ;

Watching the smiles I prized on earth,
Your converse mild, your blameless mirth;
Now, too I hear,

Of whispered sounds the tale complete,
Low prayers, and musings sweet.

A sea before

The Throne is spread; its pure, still glass Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass.

We, on its shore,

Share, in the bosom of our rest,

GOD'S knowledge, and are blest!

NEWMAN.

DEATH OF CHILDREN.

THERE are some persons who have been noted for excellence in their lives and passions, rarely innocent, and yet hugely penitent for indiscretions and harmless infirmities; such as was Paulina, one of the ghostly children of St. Jerome; and yet when any of her children died, she was arrested with a sorrow so great, as brought her to the margent of her grave. And the more tender our spirits are made by religion, the more easy we are to let in grief, if the cause be innocent, and be but in any sense twisted with piety and due affection. To cure which, we

may consider that all the world must die, and therefore to be impatient at the death of a person, concerning whom it was certain and know that he must die, is to mourn because thy friend or child was not born an angel; and, when thou hast awhile made thyself miserable by an importunate and useless grief, it may be thou shalt die thyself, and leave others to their choice, whether they will mourn for thee or no; but, by

that time it will appear how impertinent that grief was, which served no end of life, and ended in thy own funeral. But what great matter is it, if sparks fly upward, or a stone falls into a pit; if that which was combustible, be burned; or that which was liquid, be melted; or that which is mortal, to die? It is no more than a man does every day; for every night death hath gotten possession of that day, and we shall never live that day over again; and when the last day is come, there are no more days left for us to die. And what is sleeping and waking, but living and dying? what is spring and autumn, youth and old age, morning and evening, but real images of life and death, and really the same to many considerable effects and changes?

Untimely Death.

But it is not mere dying, that is pretended by some as the cause of their impatient mourning; but that the child died young, before he knew good and evil, his right hand from his left, and so lost all his portion of this world, and they know not of what excellency his portion in the