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That picture ought to be exhibited every where. I have read what Howe, and Watts, and Flavel, and Baxter and Cecil, and I do not know how many others, have written for mourners, and it is all very well; but what is it all to what I have read in the Lamentations of Jeremiah, “HE DOTH NOT AFFLICT WILLINGLY ?" Ah, there is more than half the human race that think he does afflict willingly. The cholera is regarded by the Hindoos as the cruel sport of one of their goddesses. O how it would lighten the sorrows of these mourners, did they but know that it is no one of a plurality of gods, but the Lord that afflicts them, and that he does it not wil. lingly! Can we not in a quarter of a century give them this information ? But this is only one of I know not how many similar passages. There is another that goes even beyond this? “In all their afflictions He was afflicted !" Here is sympathy for you-divine sympathy. Dost thou feel? He feels too. Does not the pitier always suffer as well as the pitied ? Well, “ like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth.” Such ideas as these never crossed a pagan mind. It never even occurred to him that God is a father.

I have thought how one of us in our affliction would like to be without the Bible, and what we would not give under such circumstances to obtain it; whether we would not give more to have it for ourselves, than we now give that the other members of the great family of mourners may have it. I think we should increase our subscription to the Bible Society. We would not like to go along the vale of tears, and through the valley of the shadow of death, into which the former sometimes so suddenlly sinks, without the 23d Psalm in our possession

31. Mrs. M. L. Nevins.

cupy a little


your valuable

Will you allow a friend, in his afliction, to ocspace


with a ubject deeply interesting to himself and to a few of your

readers. Other readers can pass it by as destitute of general interest, and when their turn of bereavement comes, let them be indulged the like privilege of consecrating their private griefs on the public page.

The following notice was inserted in the secular newspapers of Baltimore, of November 12.

Died, on Saturday, November 8, 1834, after a short illness, Mrs. Mary Lloyd, wife of the Rev. W. Nevins, aged 33 years. Though she fell a victim to the dreadful pestilence, yet she suffered no pain, and felt no terror, but with sweet submission to the divine will—with perfect confidence in the merits of


Pr. Thoughts.

her Redeemer, and in humble hope of eternal liso through his atonement, she gently breathed her spirit out to God, and left her body to sleep in Jesus until the morning of the resurrection."

For the secular newspaper that sufficed. But as one object of your publication is to record the doings of divine grace, a more extended memorial of what that grace did for the subject of this notice, especially in her last brief illness, cannot be out of place in its columns.

Mrs. Nevins was the daughter of the late Philip Barton Key, Esq. and was born in Georgetown, D. C. the 27th of August, A. D. 1801. For several years it was her privilege to enjoy the public ministry, and to receive the pastoral attentions of the Rev. C. P. McIlvaine, then rector of an Episcopal church in that place, and now bishop of the diocese of Ohio. For her soul he felt the tenderest concern. His prayers, his vigilance, and his efforts for its salvation were unremitted and untiring. Nor did he labor in vain. By the blessing of God on his fidelity, it is believed she became, in 1821, a subject of divine grace, and gave up the world for Christ. In one of her last conversations she spoke of this beloved man in terms of such affection as can be felt alone towards those who have been the instruments, in the hand of God, of winning souls to Christ. She felt that under God she owed every thing to him.

In November, 1822, she became the wife of the Rev. W. Nevins, and removed to Baltimore, the scene of his ministry, where she continued to reside until her death. Of her devotedness as a wife, a daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend, the writer of this could speak in terms of unmeasured eulogy? but it is enough that her record in this respect is engraven indelibly on many hearts. Her attachment to the cause of Christ was intelligent, sincere, and uniform.

Up to the evening of the 7th of November, she was, with an exception, deemed scarcely worthy of notice, in the possession of perfect 'health. It has been said of the cholera that it begins where other diseases end—with death. Almost literally true was this in her case. In a few hours after she was attacked, it became evident to those around her, and to herself, that the mortal blow had been struck. She needed no one to tell her of it; she felt within herself that life was fast ebbing away, and said of the weariness upon her, that it must be the weariness of death. When a friend, who stood by her, expressed her sorrow that she should take such a view of her case, she said, “ Remember who hath said all things shall work together for our good. I submit to his will, and desire that he may do with me as seemeth to him good; though it is very painful to be separated from my dear husband and my sweet children. But I commit them all into the hands of the Savior. It will be a short separation, and then we shall meet

I am

to part no more." Being asked if she felt afraid to die, she replied, “ No: I had always expected that the prospect of death would almost frighten me out of existence; but now it has no terrors. I rely on Jesus, and feel I shall be happy when I die. It is better to depart and be with him, where I shall be completely freed from sin.” To the friend already referred to, she said, “ M. our intercourse here will soon be over. We have had many sweet and pleasant hours together; now I am going from you to my precious Jesus. Precious Jesus! Whom have I in heaven but thee ?" Seeing her friend agitated and weeping, she said, “ You must not do so. happy, very happy; and you must all pray that my eyes may be fixed on the glories of crucified love to the last.

Once, with a sweet expression of countenance, she said, “ How much is implied in those words: The peace of God which passeth all understanding!" She was asked if she relied on Jesus. She answered, “Entirely." Often she was interrogated as to his presence with her, and her replies were uniformly satisfactory. On one occasion, appearing to be engaged in deep thought, she was asked what she was thinking of. She said, "Mercy.” Jesus and mercy-those are what the dying should think of. Much on her lips, and more in her thoughts was that name-name above every name- -Jesus! “O, Lord Jesus, place underneath me thy everlasting

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