We must not omit to observe that our departed statesman had a deep-rooted aversion to worldly pomp, and every description of gorgeous ostentation. He has left an admonition to his descendants, never to accept of the honors of the peerage, as a reward for any services, however great, which they may be enabled to render their country.

The statesman's abode was a temple consecrated to the worship of God. Family worship was regularly observed, and the head of the household acted himself as chaplain and priest. Psalm cxviii: 15-The voice of rejoicing and salvation is in the tabernacles of the righteous."

He has earned the honor, and the title of PATRIOT. The cheap loaf of bread in loudest sweetest accents proclaims his patriotism. While his memory lives, he shall be held in admiration as the poor man's friend. How true of the merciful patriot,

"Compassion dwells upon his mind,

His death.

To works of mercy still inclin'd:
He lends the poor some present aid,
Or gives them not to be repaid."

The event was sudden and unexpected.
In the very meridian of
usefulness, he was re-
He had labored long,

It was by a fall from his horse.
his mental vigor, activity and
moved by the hand of death.
and much, and usefully. But his time was come, hist
work was done. Britain's God had no more work for
him to perform. And now, amidst a nation's mournful,
thankful, and affectionate remembrance, he "rests from
his labors, and his works do follow him." (Rev. xiv: 13.)

Concluding refiections. This event calls on us to sympathize with the excellent surviving widow who sustains an earthly loss that can never be made up in this

world. Oh, may she cleave to Jesus as her everlasting Husband, who is willing to comfort her under this heavy bereavement, by the consolations of his Gospel, and the blessings of His fellowship!

"He sympathizes with our grief,

And to the mourner sends relief."

This dispensation calls upon us to adore the sovereignty of God. Let us say in the words of the Chaldean monarch-(Dan. iv: 35)" None can stay His hand, or say unto him, what doest Thou?"

Is human life so uncertain? In the very midst of life, are we in death? Then, what wisdom to be in readiness at our Lord's call!

Have we fled for mercy to Jesus? Oh! let us say now, and may the Holy Spirit enable us, "I flee unto Thee to hide me." (Psalm cxliii: 9.)

Slumbering sinner, flee! Escape for your life. If you flec now to Jesus, your salvation is sure. If you delay, your perdition may be sealed! How sweet the voice of mercy. "Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matt. xi: 28.) "Him that cometh unto Me I will no wise cast out." (John vi: 37.)

It is my affectionate wish and earnest prayer, that when we are removed to the world of spirits, the following most lovely and animating words may applicable to us all-(Rev. xiv: 13)-" Blessed are the dead, which die in the Lord from henceforth yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works. do follow them." AMEN!

A CALAMITY AT SEA.*

REV. S. R. CATTLEY, M. A., ENGLAND.

WITH SOME NOTICE OF THE DEATH OF WILLIAM SEKELTON, ESQ., FIFTY-THREE YEARS A DIRECTOR OF THE ORPHAN ASYLUM.

And all flesh shall see that I the Lord have kindled it; it shall not be quenched.—EZEKIEL XX: 48.

CCASIONAL references to some of the passing events of life produce more lasting effects upon the mind than eloquent and persuasive exhortations to holiness, or lucid disquisitions upon the doctrines of the gospel. Exhortations, however powerful, cease to excite, -doctrine, however forcibly illustrated, fails to interest the soul. But when we contemplate an event of Providence, we feel that we ourselves might have been its actors; that we might have recently occupied the alarming position of those of our fellow-creatures who were so circumstanced, that their choice of death was of two kinds, and those two kinds the most terrible. The choice lay between a deep and salt sea wave, or a fierce and agonizing flame.

It

This accident, in which many of our countrymen have perished, and which has produced such a convulsion of feeling, that all faces from the south to the north" may be said to be "burned therein." seems therefore desirable, that we should turn aside this morning, and contemplate such a sad spectacle, especially tracing the event alluded to, to its great and mysterious Source, and endeavoring to derive such profit as a merciful God has ordained that it should afford.

The public channels of intelligence will already have informed you, that, on Thursday week, the ship "Ocean

The "Ocean Monarch" burned at sea with nearly 400 lives.

Monarch" safely left the Mersey and sailed for America. Her passengers, most of them, were emigrants. This class of persons surely demand alike our sympathy, our best wishes, our sincere prayers. In their native land they have too frequently felt the pressure of poverty. At home the times are hard, prospects gloomy, friends are few! Sad perhaps at first, but rendered familiar by necessity, and the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, the proposal to leave their land becomes the mournful subject of their discourse. Necessity decides the question! They collect the remnants of their once comfortable fortune-all at home is hopeless; all beyond the sea, at least is uncertain, and may be prosperous. They and their children join the crowded ship-the last affectionate embrace, and the last heart-felt benedictions are given and received with friends on shore; the anchor is weighed; the expanding canvass invites the breeze and the emigrants seek in the new world, and in strange and foreign lands, that provision denied them in their own ; though still enjoying that privilege, of which circumstances and situation cannot deprive them-"being heirs together of the grace of life."

And what are we all but emigrants? What is our land but one, which, if we would make it our home, and if we would enjoy all its good things, it will be but for a short season; and all those good things are incapable of affording permanent relief. Do we never feel this? Though earth be the place of our nativity, it is neither our native home, nor a state that can satisfy our souls. This home must perish. Its honors, hopes, riches, crowns, sceptres, all must fail! Oh! why then do we struggle against impossibilities; and try to attain here, that which only belongs to another country, a new and eternal state?

And if we are emigrants, you see builded for your transmission over life's troubled sea, that spiritual ship, that

ark of Christ's church, in which you have been recognized by baptism! That ark is composed of Christ and His members all fitly framed together, a habitation of safety. Ccmented with love, united in hope, preserved in redemption, this spiritual ark has ever sheltered one blessed family of the faithful. Attach yourselves to the real members of this communion: bid farewell to many things which you have made your friends: your sins; your temptations; your anxieties; and your over-careful mind;much which human nature esteems, and much which human infirmity loves;-this day come thou and all the house into the ark, and with Christ as the "Captain of your salvation," emigrate "to a better country, even a heavenly."

"To watch and be ready!" Are there not some here, whose prospects are equally fair as were those of the "Ocean Monarch!" You are saying, "the wide and varied sea of life is before me; I am happy; my bark is trimmed; my sails are filled; I feel life's breezes wafting me on; admiring eyes and friendly salutations accompany me; I will bound from wave to wave, from joy to joy; I care not for the future; the present happy moments are enough for me!"

Some of us, perhaps, have been startled by similar alarms from our midnight slumbers. Terrible it is to see and here the raging and crackling enemy, consuming, with relentless power, the house which was once our home, and the rooms in which we had passed such happy days. But far more terrible is it, without a hand to aid, or a neighbor to shelter us, to stand upon the deck of a crowded ship, and see the livid and curling streams, ascending from below, and shrowding in a canopy of fire the fair white sails, the heavy and threatening spars, and the once beautiful network above. At such a moment all thoughts and recollections seem to vanish in the des