my Defence and Refuge in every time of trouble; and there are times when I believe he will be my Guide even unto death, and my Portion for ever. But, alas! I cannot keep here long, I am so prone to judge the Lord by my own feelings."

It gave me great pleasure to hear how my dear sister was going on; I still feel persuaded you will see greater things yet. Your letter put me in mind of Zion of old, and of my own daily path one hour I am trying to make myself out nothing but a hypocrite, and think it never can be that I am a heaven-born soul; and the next, perhaps, like you, I think I shall get safe at last, because I feel my heart and affections drawn out after Him who is invisible, and a separation from the world and all its perishing vanities. I do most earnestly join you in desiring to die daily to all things but Christ and him crucified. My distressing cough, and the trouble of Mrs. L. prevent me from. writing more than a few words at a time. But O my dear friends, a few more days of sorrow, and we shall lay down these poor bodies. I was thinking yesterday of the close union there is between soul and body, and that the latter is part of the purchased possession. Our dear Deliverer has entered into heaven as the firstfruits of them that slept; and as we have borne the image of the earthly, so we shall also bear the image of the heavenly. O! may we find, when we come to die, that death is swallowed up in victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

O my dear friends, may we drink more and more deeply into the precious mystery of Christ crucified for us; see him coming in our nature that he might become our Surety, and go to the end of the law for us, and bring in a perfect righteousness to cover our naked souls. Oh! how we ought to love him! but to my shame and grief I speak it, I am too often so hard-hearted, cold, and barren, as if I' had never heard his blessed voice or known anything of him. Oh! what love is this, that will not quite let such a wretch go for ever." But he is pleased to come again and again; and blessed be his holy name, when he comes I do know his precious voice from that of strangers; yes, when he draws, my poor soul gladly goes forth to meet her Beloved. When you see his face, remember your unworthy friend and companion in the path of tribulation.

Drury-Court, Dec. 14, 1827.

E. GALE.

[Mrs. Gale's experience, which appeared in the Gospel Standard, (September and November numbers, 1845,) will not be forgotten by some of our readers.-EDS.]

TAKE MY YOKE UPON YOU.

My dear Friend's letter should have had an earlier notice, but I have had many engagements, on which account I have been pre vented writing.

"It is a good thing that a man bear the yoke in his youth." The bondage of the law, the curse of it felt in the conscience, the wrath that it works, the fear of death and of judgment to come, is what most in our day seem to escape. They know nothing of the guilt

of sin, the depravity of our nature, nor feel their lost and perishing condition. But God comes near to judgment, (to his people while in this world,) and appears a swift witness against us. He arraigns us at his bar, and our secret sins are set in the light of his countenance, and he causes us to possess the iniquity of our youth. Shame and confusion of face cover us, and guilt makes us afraid. The caul of our heart is rent, and we meditate terror; the yoke of our transgressions is bound by his hand, and, like David, we sink into the horrible pit. The Lord makes inquisition for blood, and his arrows stick fast within us. Death is to us the king of terrors, and we look forward with dismay to the judgment to come. We feel nothing but wrath, hardness of heart, enmity, stubbornness, bondage, and fear.

The law. is holy," says Paul; "but I am carnal, sold under sin.' This shows the great disparity there, is betwixt God and us. By the law is the knowledge of sin. It reveals to us the concupiscence of our nature, shows the aboundings of our transgression; and worketh wrath. This fills us with slavish and tormenting fear. We would fain flee.out of his hand, but cannot. Turn which way we will, everything makes against us, and there appears no way of escape from this stormy wind and tempest; there is no rest for the sole of our feet; we are dissatisfied with ourselves and with everything about us: None appears so miserable as we feel ourselves, nor cạn we imagine that there are any like us-none so vile, so corrupt; none have that evil working within which we find, none feel so hard, so impenitent, stupid, and dead as we. We see our state, but cannot mourn on account of sin as we desire. Nothing seems. to draw us, nor does anything drive us. We have no happiness in the world, and no comfort, in God. We hear of Christ, and read of him in the Scriptures; but we have no power to come to him, and for want of faith we cannot lay hold upon him. We know we have destroyed ourselves, and that in Him alone is our help; but whether he will show mercy, we cannot tell. We have no doubt of his power, but of his willingness. Lord, if thou wilt," said the leper, "thou canst make me clean." We know that he died for sinners, but we dare not entertain a thought that he died for such as we. What we feel makes us conclude that we are too vile for the Saviour to show mercy. Though we call upon him, we cannot find that he hears our prayers; and instead of getting rid of our guilt and the load of sin we feel, every day we appear to get worse and worse, and often fear we shall be obliged to give it all up; and so we should, were it not for the power of God, which keeps us asking, seeking, knocking, though we seem to have no expectation, no hope, that we shall ever obtain what we are seeking for. We feel restless and dissatisfied on account of our state.

But there is a power we feel that causes us to separate from the world and from them that have the form of godliness only. It is the Spirit which giveth life; and this is its quickening influence. We obey its voice, and follow, as we are able, this power that we feel; but what it is we know not, nor do we know what to make of

it. We have no light or judgment to know what it is, nor whose we are; but are full of confusion, always in a hurry and in haste. When we attempt to pray the mind is filled with a thousand things, nor can we confess our sin or ask for pardon as we would; and as soon as we have tried to do so we feel ashamed, and think, "This is no prayer." Dreadful sensations seize us, and what to do we know not; but somehow or other, contrary to our expectation, we are kept calling and seeking. Abraham obeyed and went out, not knowing whither he went. This is the case with every sensible sinner. The blind are brought by a way which they know not. Ask such a one where he is going, he knows not; or what is the matter, he cannot tell. He is dissatisfied, and goes on according to his feelings, but cannot believe it is a work of grace. He is distressed and asks for pardon; but whether he shall end in heaven or hell he does not know, but fears the latter. Paul says that Abraham set out for the land of Canaan, and to the land of Canaan he came. So with every one who, from a feeling sense of his wants, seeks Christ Jesus, the only Friend of sinners.

My friend complains, but I am glad to find he bears the yoke. If he follow on to know the Lord, in due time it shall be destroyed because of the anointing. Though the vision tarry, wait for it; God will avenge his own elect, that cry day and night unto him. Seek the Lord, seek his face, and you will not seek in vain. Wait upon him, be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the Lord. Yours affectionately,

J. C.

A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE LAST DAYS OF THE LATE JOHN RUSK.

Sir, The enclosed is a faithful account of our friend John Rusk, related by Mrs. Rusk and his daughter. I had this from the daughter herself, who was with him all his illness; and she is a God-fearing woman. Mrs. Rusk was a member with me at Mr. Hobbs's, at Staining Lane. I shall enclose her last letter to her daughter, that she may speak for herself. I thought many of the Standard friends would like to see some account of John Rusk's death. Yours sincerely,

Walworth.

T. W.

Tuesday, March 25, 1834. When I came home from chapel I found my poor husband very ill. I went no more to chapel while he lived. He continued to get worse every day. His bodily sufferings were very great; his throat was so sore and burning, that for weeks he was not able to swallow anything, but was constantly spitting, with a dreadful cough, fearing he would break a blood-vessel, or burst something in his head. He had shocking nights with bodily pain, and he suffered greatly in his soul. Satan was permitted sorely to try him; he suggested to him that all his experience was vain, only notional, that he

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never had a change of heart, that he was destitute of charity; that he had gifts and knowledge, but had no real love to God and his family. He felt much rebellion and self pity, and had hard thoughts of God at times. He said to me, Oh, how hard do I feel! oh, that I could feel resignation and submission to the will of God; I am afraid that the hard and blasphemous thoughts that I feel against a good God will bring down his just judgment upon my head. Oh, what a long-suffering God is our God!"

Wednesday, March 26. He said to me, "I certainly have had a good time, a great falling in spirit, and I confessed my wretched hardness to the Lord."

Thursday. At night he spoke to me about his profession, and held fast his integrity in God's truth; and had a sweet time again in the morning for a little while. I should have mentioned a joyful time he had on Friday, February 14th, at night after family prayer, which lasted, he said, from nine until past one. He said, "I have truly had sweet fellowship and communion with the Lord. I have had a heaven in my soul; yet coughing all night, which drags me to pieces; but I was highly favoured indeed; I thought it might be a prelude to death or the latter rain. I sang at different times, in my whispering way, the following hymns: How happy are we,' &c.; 'Exalted high;' 'Plunged in a gulph.' 'Now begin the heavenly,' 'Not with our mortal eyes;' 'Salvation, O! the joyful sound,' 'Why should the children;' and my heart was in them." Another time he said, "Blessed be God, I do feel a good hope." Then again he said, "I do feel on the stretch for heavenly things. Oh! that I had voice and strength to tell what the Lord has done for me. I do believe I trust in the Almighty God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and that he is my eternal Portion." After this he got rather dull, but said, “I do not feel condemnation, but peace, quietness, and rest, as it respects my eternal state.' I wish I could have put these things down at the time, but he continued noting things down himself in his daily experience-book as long as he was able. He continued gradually getting worse every day, which I could clearly see, and mentioned it; but no one else believed it as I did.

Thursday, April 10. He got up about noon, and was seized with a trembling all over, and was forced to go to bed again as soon as possible. While he was in that state, these words were in his mind: "Let death seize hold of them!" Oh, how he sank, afraid they came from God! After a while the trembling abated, but he continued very low in soul and full of fear. He never got up but once more, which was on Saturday, and then he was very ill, and cast down in soul. On Sunday morning he said to me, "Oh! I have had a blessed time in blessing and praising the dear Saviour for his condescending love to me a poor vile sinner. I cannot describe how I see and feel myself; an incarnate devil never was such a wretch as I. Oh! the love of Christ, to think he should lay down his life for me. Yes, I do love him with all my heart; but he first loved me. Oh! the wonders of sovereign grace. I shall soon be with him and see him as he is, and bless and praise him for his

unspeakable love to me to all eternity. Christ is the eternal Rock, and I am fixed on the foundation, the Rock of eternal ages." He then blessed and praised God in three Persons-Father, Son, and Blessed Spirit distinctly, till he was quite spent. After this his appetite failed; he could take very little for fear of being choked. But now he had no desire for food, he longed to be gone, yet at times was much distressed. I read to him while he could bear it, but he got so weak that he could not bear me to read much. I read part of Tanner's "Contemplations " in his life, and his own experience-book, about his deliverance, by his own desire. On the Lord's day before his death he was so low I did not read to him. He said to me in the afternoon,, "I do feel much brokenness of spirit, and falling before the Lord, blessed be his precious name. He was very low and in great pain with his throat, the fever also very high, and in danger of being choked.

Monday. He was very bad, and could not bear to hear me read or even speak to him.

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Tuesday, April 22. After he had taken a little arrowroot I said, "Could you bear me to read a chapter?" He said, “Yes.” I said, "Is there any particular place?" He said, "Awake, awake!" I read the 52nd chapter of Isaiah, then asked him if he heard it. He said, "Yes, that will do." Ah! I have no breath." . He lay still a while, and when I raised him a little higher, I perceived a change in his countenance. I asked him, "If he could. take anything.". He said, Yes," and took some sago with a little wine, which was the last thing he took. This was about eleven o'clock ;. he breathed very short and hard, seemed perfectly sensible, but not able to speak; his sufferings were very great, and he was much convulsed inwardly. About two o'clock the rattle was heard in his throat. Jane and I never left the bedside from the time he changed until he died. He had not power to speak; but when I asked him if he found peace, rest, and quietness, he nodded more than once. He seemed very much in prayer all day; we could see his lips move, but not hear what he said, except, Blessed Lord! blessed Spirit!" Jane, in great agony, took hold of his hand and said, Father, are you happy?" He squeezed her hand and said, "Yes." Oh! it was truly afflicting to see him in that agony so many hours. We both earnestly prayed to the Lord to receive his spirit and release him. I was almost overcome. I do not think I could have stood it much longer. I was nearly fainting, but the Lord supported me, for I felt persuaded it was the last struggle, and he was entering into bliss. His breath got lower and lower; and just as he breathed his last, a pleasant smile came on his face, which continued. Thus he entered into 'peace, about half-past seven o'clock on Tuesday evening, April 22nd, 1834, aged sixty-two.

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MRS. RUSK'S LETTER TO HER DAUGHTER.

My dear Jane,-I hope you are quite well. I am sure you will be sorry to hear I am much worse; the outward man perishes daily.