done for my soul. If you think it worth a place in your repository, if convenient, I have no objection to its appearing. I confess I set about it with reluctance, yet when I consider the infinite mercy and goodness of God to me, I blush at my own diffidence. But as I am encouraged to hope that what I have experienced may be of use, I desire to be enabled to overcome my objections, and to lay aside every consideration, but that of giving God the glory of my salvation, and of being of benefit to believers, who labour under desertion, despondency, and deep distress of soul, similar to what I have endured. I am under a necessity of beginning my narrative at an early period, as one occurrence is connected with another. At about three years of age I was taken by my parents to visit some relatives in the country, where I was to stay a few weeks; my mother was in a bad state of health, which terminated in her death, and I continued with them seven years; my uncle and aunt, with whom I resided, had no child, and they indulged me to a fault: my aunt was a pleasing woman, but too irresolute to manage a child properly; my uncle, from every part of his conduct which I recollect, was one that feared God, and was naturally of a humane tender disposition; his behaviour was so judicious, that I respected him, and at the same time felt no restraint in his company. I frequently read the bible to him; and when any passage struck me, I asked him the meaning. One day I was reading Heb. vi. where it is expressed, that there were persons that crucified to themselves the Son of God afresh. Uncle, said I, how can they crucify our Saviour again? He made a pause, and then replied, If you tell untruths, if you take God's name in vain, or are undutiful to your parents, or to those who have the care of you, that is crucifying our Lord afresh. It was not long after this I committed some fault, which my aunt reproved me for. I was exceedingly impertinent to her at which she was greatly affected, and shed tears: this cut me to the heart; yet my abominable pride was such, I could not ask pardon, although I was more wretched than I am able to describe, both from my natural feelings, and the sense I had of the sin I had committed. Then came to my mind the crucifying of the Lord afresh; and my convictions were so strong, that I thought there was but a step between me and hell. I wished from my inmost soul, that I had never been born. How long these convictions lasted, or how they wore off, I cannot remember. At the age of ten years my friends sent for me to London; from this time till twenty I experienced many convictions; often determining to become religious; and sensibly feeling, that if I were to die, I was lost; however, these impressions, like the former, soon wore off. From this time, till I arrived at the age of twenty-one, nothing material occurred, when. I married, which was a time that I had fixed in my own mind for having done with vanity and becoming serious; but alas! I was just the same; and to outward appearance worse; when I was single, I went to church regularly twice on Sunday, but now I for went to no place of worship: I either loitered my time away, or spent it in vanity. I cannot say that I went on in this way without checks of conscience, for it was almost constantly in my mind that I was living without God in the world. I wished to talk with my husband upon the subject; but it was but seldom that I had courage to speak about religion, and when I did, we always clashed in our opinions, for he was an antinomian, and my ideas were altogether legal. If I talked of going to church, he would say he would rather go to a play, for that our minister knew nothing about religion. I could not agree with him, and I was thoroughly dissatisfied with our way of living; it was a burden to me; I had a de sire after religion, but had not courage to be singular; I wished my husband to be serious; he seemed to be the bar; but this hindrance was soon removed. When we had been married something more than four years, my husband died; and the day following my child, a boy three years old; so that in a few days I was deprived of all outward comforts, and every earthly tie. As I was left without excuse, so I did indeed sit loose to the world; every thing on earth appeared transitory and uncertain; and I felt the force of a line or two of Dr. Young's, where he says, 66 All, all on earth is shadow, All beyond is substance." I began now to read the Bible, with a sincere desire to know what I must do to be saved. But how shall I express the goodness of the Lord to me? he chose me in the furnace of affliction, and drew me with the cords of love. The Scriptures were made so sweet and comfortable to me, that I read them day and night; they were all my delight, and all my consolation. While I was reading the Bible, I forgot my trouble, and in some measure anticipated future happiness. The Lord was so gracious to me, that my eyes were open to see that grace was free, all was to be had without money, and that none that came to him should in any wise be cast out. I may truly say, that I was taught of God, for I had no serious person to speak to, and sat under legal preaching; it was twelve months before I heard a gospel sermon; when I was pro videntially asked by an acquaintance to go to meeting; Mr. W. preached from Isa. lxiii. 1. I never heard so sweet a sermon before: every thing he said about the Saviour agreed exactly with what the Lord had taught me: every sentiment that he delivered was my own. As I came out of the meeting I expressed my satisfaction, and said I should be glad to go there again, which I accordingly did, and I do not know that I ever went to my old church any more, for I had a seat taken for me at the meeting, and I continued to go there for near three years. I sometimes went to other places of worship where the gospel was preached; in short, I took every opportunity of hearing; for I found the oftener I attended the means, and the closer I kept to God in prayer, the more peace, comfort and communion I had with him. The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him. No one can tell what the presence of the Lord imports, but those who have enjoyed it. some I From what I have said, perhaps it may be supposed that I had sunshine all the way; but the sequel will prove the contrary: indeed, thus far the road was tolerably smooth, yet was not without my conflicts: the old and the new nature struggled, and I often groaned, being burdened; sometimes I found sin a load intolerable, but still the promises of God were brought to my mind, and applied with power: and I experienced great nearness to God. One evening, when in prayer, I was so carried out of myself, that whether in the body or out of the body I could hardly tell; when I came to myself, I was astonished. At another time, when I awoke in the morning, it was rather early, and in the summer, the Lord manifested himself to me in such a manner, and gave me such a foretaste of heaven, that the joy and happiness I felt was so great I could hardly sustain it. It was really an exceeding weight of bliss. It is now about twelve years since I was favoured in this manner, but it is quite fresh upon my memory, and I trust it will never be erased. From this time I enjoyed great consolations for near four years. Some little time after this I had the following remarkable dream. I thought I was alone in a very wide handsome street; the pavement was exceeding good, the pathway broad, and the sun shone delightfully pleasant; but of a sudden the sun drew in, and by degrees it clouded over, till at last it was quite dark. I thought at first that it was an eclipse, and expected it would be light again; but I was disappointed in my expectation; for instead of growing light, it grew darker and darker, till it appeared to be night. I knew not what to make of it, for I had an idea that it was morning. I was rather frightened, and hurried on, but went a very little way before my head turned giddy, and I fell with great force against some bulk, which gave me violent pain. Several persons came to my assistance; some had lanthorns, some had candles, and others had torches; by the light of these I examined myself to see whether I was hurt, but could not see that I was in the least; I also expected that these people would light me home, but in a few minutes the light all disappeared, and I was instantaneously out of the street before mentioned, into a high-road, and was in the greatest terror of mind; for I was alone, and did not know what might happen to me: while I was reflecting on my unhappy situation, it grew still darker, till the darkness was so weighty it crushed me to the ground. I cannot describe the sensations that I then felt, but was as miserable as can be conceived: I thought to myself, this is like the Egyptian darkness, a dark ness that may be felt; I tried to step with my feet, and to feel with my hands, but could not stir hand or foot, I stood sighing and groaning under this weight, my mind being in great distress and embarrassment. I continued there so long, that I thought I should never see light again; but after having given up all hopes, I felt the darkness not quite so heavy, and it gradually grew lighter, until the weight was removed. Soon after this I experienced an unaccountable change: I thought there was light, and I felt the sun shine upon me, and I could even see the sun through my eye-lids, yet my eyes were fast closed, I could not open them. While I was meditating on the strangeness of my condition, of a sudden a clear light burst upon me, and I saw every thing plainly. I then surveyed the road, which was the most rugged I ever saw. There was no foot-way; it was something like a country lane, only broader, after heavy showers, and the ruts were beat up in great clods, which when a frost succeeds becomes very hard and shaggy, so it was impossible to walk without falling. I saw at a distance some poor people creeping on very slowly. Then I turned to my right-hand, but, how shall I speak my surprize, I was scarce a hand's breadth from a deep ditch, and it was so deep that I could see no bottom. At the side of the ditch there was part of a rotten rail; it appeared so very rotten, that if any one attempted to lean upon it, they would inevitably fall in. At the part where I stood it was entirely broken down. I walked slowly till I got out of sight of the ditch; after that I went from one street to other, and then awoke, and was glad to find it was a dream. But my joy upon the occasion was soon done away; for in the morning I was so deeply affected, that I set for some hours in a pensive, melancholy frame, but could not, from its obvious incoherency, get any satisfactory interpretation of it. From this time my consolations began sensibly to decline, and by degrees I felt myself sinking into a state of despondency. I was alarmed, and endeavoured to find out the cause. I examined myself by the word of God, and was convinced it was sin which had separated me from God, and iniquity hid his face from me. The closer I examined myself the more unhappy I was; I even loathed, hated and abhorred myself. Now the commandment came, the law did its office, and a very severe schoolmaster I found it. Sin became exceeding sinful, it appeared in its true colours, black as its author. Yet still I attended ordinances, but found no freedom in prayer. At last God seemed to have quite forsaken me, and I began to conclude that his mercy was clean gone for ever. All I read and heard gave me no comfort, so far from it that it condemned me. I heard Mr. W- preach at length from these words, " And will gather the wheat into his garner; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." I was all attention; and from what was said I drew this inference, that I certainly was the chaff. I got out of the meeting as fast as I could, for I was so drowned with tears I was ashamed any one should see my face. I hurried home as fast as I could. Now indeed I suffered the terrors of the Lord, and was really distracted: like Job I looked this way and that way to find the Lord, but all in vain; and like him I seemed to be left in the power of Satan, to do what he would with me, only to spare my life I was so harrassed, tempted, and embarrassed in mind, that I believe I did not close my eyes to sleep for near a week; and when nature was quite exhausted my rest was so unsound it did me but little good; what I suffered during one whole year is not in language to describe; I searched every page in the Bible to find a glimpse of hope, but my eyes were holden, I could not see one ray; every condemning passage of scripture was applied to me; I threw away the Bible, and thought I would read it no more. I was like the troubled sea, I could have no rest. Then I read the Bible again, threw it away, and then read it over again. In reading the fifty-fourth of Isaiah, the eleventh verse afforded me a little comfort, which was the only support I had for the time which I have before mentioned, and Satan wanted to rob me of this. He persuaded me that I endeavoured to pervert the scriptures, for that I had no right to any promise. Then I read the cviith. Psalm over and over again, and endeavoured to take comfort, but Satan beat me off, and persuaded me that I was not a child of God, and that he had me as safe as if I were in hell already, for that I was "twice dead, plucked up by the roots," and that with respect to me there remained "no more sacrifice for sins." What I felt is easier to be conceived than expressed. I thought there was not any person like myself, for the distress and perplexity of my mind was such, that I could do no kind of business, and I thought if my father should die, my relations would put me in a mad-house, for I was company for nobody, and as I was certain I must go to hell, I was determined to put an end to my existence. With this intention I went to three or four apothecaries' shops, and procured from each a separate portion of opium; on my return home I made them into three pills, each of which as I was afterwards informed was quite sufficient to have taken the life of any person. (To be concluded in our next.) POETRY. LEBANON LEAVES. His apprehended, his insulted Lord, Though by the high priest known, and known to be A follower of Jesus! Still alone, E'en in his agony, beheld and knew, The martyrs' wreath, yet, wondrous, snatched from death, A living martyr! not to preach alone The risen Saviour, but, in solitude, Communing with him, to receive from him A second legacy-the mystic bookThe Revelation to his widowed church, Brimful of cautions, consolations, hopes, To cheer her in her progress! Favoured apostle! who shall tell thy The language, and the Object of our prayer, Scarce thinking that the hour will one day come, When they, in one large aggregate, will form A different prayer-meeting, and pray in vain. We pray confidingly; we pray, assured, That, bending at the mercy-throne, we come With an availing plea, and that we have, Always, a Great High Priest on our behalf Successful interceding; we pray in words The prayer for blessings God intends to grant! We pray to God, the High and Lofty One, The accent and the attitude of prayer! And, kneeling, unassisted, supplicate Terrible prayer! "Fall on us, rocks and hills, And hide us from the presence of the Lamb! Terrible prayer, and vain! for all must meet The Lamb's omniscient glance, and hear from him The sentence, final, just, irrevocable, REZENEB. 66 JESUS STANDING !" HE stands, how can the Saviour sit He stands, the appalling sight impels |