JOHN HITCHCOCK. John Hitchcock was one, of whom his pious father said, “ had 1 been asked which of my children the Lord was most likely to prepare for himself, John would have been the last I should have mentioned.” And perhaps, if the same question had been put to his schoolmaster and teachers, they would have made the same reply. He was very close in his temper; and shewed so much dislike for the best things, that for a time it was a doubt, whether he should be kept in the school. The master saying one day to the boys, that they had often heard the precious truths of the Gospel, and perhaps some of them were sick and tired of hearing them, John turned to the boy next him, and whispered, “I'm sure I'am.” Nearly a year after this, a disease gained ground upon him, which - kept him from school; but to those who taught him in private, it was too clear that he was still in the same sad state of mind. There was, however, some sense, of sin, of deserved wrath, and unfitness for heaven, which made him shrink from death, and desire to get better. As his complaint increased, he seemed to feel more the danger of his soul. Hearing the bell toll one evening, he said to his mother, “that sound" is enough to frighten any one to death.” She replied,

jes, my boy, it is an awful sound." He quickly added, “not to 'those, mother, who have made their peace with God." After this he was very unhappy: and called to his mother to sit by him, and tell him about the happiness of God's children. His sense of his guilt troubled him sleeping as well as waking. He told his mother, that in his sleep he had been at the bar of God; that he was at the left hand, doomed to hell, and that though he clung around something for sometime to keep him from sinking into the pit, it was in vain : he fell in, amidst groans, and hisses, and misery. He now seemed truly glad to be read to and prayed with; and he shewed an earnest manner, which he had not before. Still there was much reserve. A great gloomi hung over his mind. He had a very faint hope of being happy after death : and mostly a fear, that " he should go to the bad place." When he had been pra; ed with one day, he said to his mother, when the school-visitor had left him, “how sweetly she prays: what would I give to be like her!". His mother answered, “ then pray to God, my dear, that you may.” “I do pray (said the child) 'but I get no answer to my prayers." He was very much in this state of mind till the day of his death; -a source of distress to himself, and to all his anxious friends. His fear of giving them a false hope for him, or of indulging one himself, was very striking. And while the mournful, anxious looks of his parents and friends seemed to say, they would give worlds to hear something from him to form a well-grounded hope, he was careful not to make any profession, or to utter a word, which could deceive them. He, however, assured them, that he often prayed; and said, "mother, I want to pray aloud ; but I am afraid of your laughing at me.” And it was found out, that he had really taken advantage of his mother's absence, to indulge this wish. For when, during his last day, he was engaged in earnest prayer aloud, his little sister said, “our Johnny is praying to-day, just as he did one day before; only he keeps on longer." When asked what she meant, she said, one day, when her mother was gone for water, she heard John's voice, and thought he was repeating a hymn; and when she ran into the room, he told her to kneel down, for that he was praying ; and he kept on, until he heard his mother coming. But the rich display of God's grace to his soul was reserved for his latter hours. God proved that his delays are not denials; that light is sown for the righteous; and often comes up stronger for having been long withheld. On the 16th of last June, he called for his mother in a very earnest manner, and when she came, he said, “I want father too.” John looked at them, as if he had much to say to them; covered with blushes, made some excuse; and shrunk down in his bed. But his extreme reserve was forced to yield to the power of grace; and the mists and clouds were soon dispersed, when the Sun of righteousness began to shine within. He broke forth, “Oh ! how wonderful, that the Lord has not cut me off long ago, and sent me to misery for ever and ever!” Then looking up, he added very earnestly, “I hope the Lord will glorify himself in me. Oh! Lord, have mercy upon us all, for Jos!ls Christ's sake, Amen. Oh! Lord, sanctify my heart, for Jesus Christ's sake, Amen. Oh! my dear Jesus, how I long to be in heaven with thee!” When asked if he wished to get better, he said, "I had rather go to Jesus.” Many pious friends, who stood round him, said his prayers seemed to be quite a wrestling with God. The only notice he seemed to take of those in the room, was to renew his prayers for them; a..l it is to be hoped, that some of them will find it a day mnch to be remembereil. The pious ones declare, that they learnt a lesson of sincerity and earnostness, which they hope never to forget. The dear child went on, as well as the shortness of his breath would allow, “Lord,

grant, that these all may meet me in heaven, for Jesus Christ's sake, Amen. -Lord, grant when these come to die, they may have an interest in Jesus. Be merciful to all, who have visited me in my sickness.—shall never forget my teachers.-0! Lord, I cannot help but pray." Towards the afternoon, his last sleep was powerfully creeping over him. This pained him much ; as it kept him from praying as he wished to do; and he tried in every way to keep himself awake. He saw several of his school-fellows standing around him ; called them by name, and begged them not to be in a hurry; but he had strength to say little more. There was, however, a brilliant and joyful look about his eyes, which he kept fixed towards heaven, that told what was passing in his happy soul. And this was the more striking, as his face had been before marked with a great gloom. The light of this world now began to grow dim in his sight. He ex.. pressed his wonder, that they did not get a candle ; not knowing, that it was bright day. But John was now about to open his eyes on that better world, where they need no candle, or light of the sun. Still looking upwards, and with a smile upon his face, he sweetly fell asleep in Jesus, aged ten years and nine months.