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on her work as an experiment, now, that its success was undoubted, were equally loud in their praises.

While in the hospital her original plan of a Protestant Sisterhood

assumed in her mind a more attainable form, and was shortly afterwards carried into execution. The first principles of the plan, however, remained the same, and they are those which have been so thoroughly tested, and so nobly advocated by our own Mrs. Sewell, Mrs. Bayly, Miss Marsh, and others, "personal intercourse with the poor, and the exhibition of a love towards them manifested in action and rooted in faith." It was Miss Sieveking's experience after many years' labour, and it is the experience of all who have thought over the subject carefully in the light of Scripture, that all higher kinds of benefit to the poor are connected with personal intercourse with them. Some one telling her of the establishment in the place of a Sewing or Dorcas' Society, she said, "I only hope that these sewing societies will not be looked upon as a substitute for visiting associations." The object of the association which she now formed was more frequent and regular visiting of the sick poor in their own dwellings, and a closer supervision of them than is possible for the general poor's board, with care to promote order and cleanliness, with whatever else may be helpful to them either in body or soul.

Miss Sieveking's labours form a deeply interesting chapter in the history of philanthropy, but our space forbids more than the briefest reference. Her Society was attended with the most blessed results. She at first found some difficulty in obtaining coadjutors, though she says, "I require nothing in

them but sound sense, a certain amount of bodily strength and knowledge of domestic matters-except love to the cause and a living principle of Christianity."

The members-13 in number, and all voluntary workers from private families, 6 married and 7 unmarried met for the first time at Amelia's home, in May, 1832. In a few years the number increased to 33 visiting members, besides other ladies who undertook on certain days of the week to cook for invalids. The public confidence in the work so increased that contributions of all kinds were forthcoming as soon as wanted. There grew out of the parent stem in Hamburg, several kindred efforts, a Children's Hospital, an Association for the care of discharged convicts, &c.; and similar associations on the model of Miss Sieveking's have been founded in many cities of Northern Germany, in Switzerland, in the Baltic provinces of Russia, in Sweden, Denmark, and Holland.

The labour to Miss Sieveking involved in this her undertaking, was very great, for not only did she preside over the weekly and monthly meetings of the Society, but herself took a large share of personal fatigue, drew up for publication its Annual Reports, and besides this carried on her private classes, mixed occasionally in general society, and ministered to the wants of her adopted mother, now very much of an invalid.

None but a woman of robust bodily constitution and elastic spirits, could have so long sustained the pressure; but in 1858 her health began to give way, her active employments were gradually and with great reluctance given up, and for

many months she had to learn the harder lesson of waiting patiently on the Lord in weakness and suffering. In April, 1859, at the age of 64, she en

tered on the higher service above. Well may Hamburg account it an honour and a joy to call Amelia Sieveking her own.

CHARACTER THE SAME IN BOTH WORLDS.

JOB, Solomon, and Paul, all remind us of the undoubted fact that men pass into the other world with empty hand, and stript of all earthly possessions and distinctions. "We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out." The rich dead man is as poor as the most abject pauper. The purple and fine linen of the one remain with the rags of the other. But while they leave on the earth all that belonged to the earth, they both, and all men as well, carry with them the character they had formed, and which had become a part of themselves, during their earthly

existence.

Let us solemnly ponder this fact. It is true both of the lost and of the saved. Into either of the future states men carry nothing but character. And each man's character will be, we believe, as much his own as it was in this world. We should very

much misconceive the condition of
saints in heaven if we thought of them
as an indistinguishable mass, even of
light and purity. They must be all
alike in this, that they shall be per-
fectly free from sin and perfectly free
from error.
But beyond this funda-
mental likeness of all future saintship
there is room for variety and degree
equal to that which prevails on earth.
The spiritual heavens will not be
found one vast level even of beauty
and richness, not even the level of a
high table-land, all-glorious in an
unclouded sun, It will be a region

H.

more variegated than deep valleys and lofty mountains variegate the face of the earth.

All this we can understand, and all this we undoubtedly expect, so far as fundamental constitutional differences are concerned. Religion does not destroy such differences now, and shows no signs of a tendency to destroy them, and we have no reason to believe that it will ever destroy them. But acquired character is permanent likewise, and that not merely in its essential principle of godliness or ungodliness, but in many of its peculiarities. The principle is admitted that according as a man soweth, so shall he also reap. But does not this principle involve much more than merely that "he which is unjust shall be unjust still, and that he which is righteous shall be righteous still ?" Does it not imply that, peculiar forms, phases, and habits of character shall likewise be confirmed and perpetuated? What scope there may be in the other world for the exercise and manifestation either of peculiar habits of evil or of peculiar habits of good we cannot say; but are we wrong in assuming that there will be ample scope for both, through ways very different from those with which we are acquainted in this world? We have works to engage in here," which perfect saints above and holy angels cannot do." In heaven there will be found no sinners to be converted, no naked poor to be clothed, no hungry

to be fed, no prisoners to be visited, no sick to be healed. But it does not follow that all those principles of character which shew themselves in these forms of well-doing on earth will lose their distinctiveness, or want suitable occasions of exercise, in heaven, and be lost, as it were, in a common or uniform principle of goodness. The great sufferer for Christ's sake and the great toiler in Christ's vineyard have much in common, but they have much that is peculiar to each, the fruit of their peculiar circumstances and training. They whose circumstances and calling on earth develop the gentler and tenderer affections and graces, and they whose circumstances and calling develop the bolder and sterner, have much in common, but they have much that is peculiar to each. Shall we suppose that heaven will perpetuate what is common to them, but not what is peculiar and special? Shall we not suppose rather that the Marthas and Marys of the Church on earth will be Marthas and Marys in the Church in heaven, freed indeed from all sin, but distinguished from one another by those forms of excellence which were acquired by their earthly training?

This consideration surrounds everything we do and everything we neglect to do with immense importance. It is a great fallacy to imagine that our entrance into heaven will put everything to rights. To this extent it will, that we can carry no sin with us within its holy gates. But beyond this we cannot hope that our transition from earth to heaven will put things to rights, and make it a matter of no permanent or eternal importance what defects or what excellencies we have had "earth The child who 18

learning to write is forming his hand, that which ultimately becomes as distinctive of him as his countenance, with every stroke of the pen he makes from the very first line onward till his writing is what it never ceases to be. The effect of any single letter he forms, or of any single copy he completes, may be imperceptible but it is real. And it is the repetition of that effect many times that produces the habit which no after effort can undo or destroy. So with our gait, by which we become as distinguishable from those who are walking by our side as we are by our faces. And so with the expression of the face itself. Much as it depends on what we call nature, it is modified and matured by the ten thousand impulses, passions, and emotions, which pass through us, or through which we pass in the course of years. In this respect we reap as we have sown.

We

So will it be with the character we shall take with us into heaven. are forming it now. Every godly thought we cherish, every holy affection we exercise, every labour of love we perform, is contributing its share towards making us what we shall be for ever. And who will say that the evil which mingles with our good is not contributing its share likewise, and that our neglects do not produce a final effect as well as our performances? Excluding, as we do, the idea that we can carry any sin, or sinful habit, or sinful propensity, with us into heaven, it may be nevertheless true that the good we carry with us would be very different but for the evil which was closely associated with it. So that every shortcoming, every neglect of duty, every envious, or uncharitable, or vindictive feeling that

has an hour's possession of our breast may be producing an effect which will never be effaced. And if the scars we thus receive be not visible in heaven, there may still be less of beauty and of symmetry than other wise there would have been. That a course of self-denial will form a character which will shine with the divinest radiance in the heavenly kingdom all admit. Why doubt that a course of self-indulgence, even within the limits to which such a course is compatible with ultimate safety, will produce an effect which will be equally permanent, by making the light of the character less bright, and the joy of the soul less ecstatic or less abundant? That he who through grace has so lived as to adorn in everything the doctrine of God his Saviour will manifest eternally the fruits of such a life, every one is prepared to admit. Does it not follow that the Christian who, unhappily, so lives as only to be "saved as it were

by fire" will be so different, even when without sin, as never to be confounded in his character and experience with him who was uniformly watchful, and devout, and holy, during the period of earthly training and instruction?

We would not be understood as saying that our character will be stereotyped the moment we enter the world of spirits, that we shall be stamped and sealed to be for ever what we are when we pass into the invisible, in any such way as to prevent growth, and expansion, and progress. All we insist on is that our manhood in heaven will bear the impress of our childhood on earth. And this is a most solemn consideration. Christians are growing now into what they shall be for ever! The thousand influences to which they are voluntarily or involuntarily subjected are forming them into what they shall be long after this earth and the works that are therein shall have been burned up.

AN EASTERN TALE IN ENGLISH RHYME.

BY ARCHBISHOP TRENCH.

THERE went a man from home; and to his neighbours twain
He gave, to keep for him, two sacks of golden grain.
Deep in his cellar one the precious charge concealed,
And forth the other went and strewed it in his field.
The man returns at last-asks of the first his sack;
"Here-take it; 'tis the same; thou hast it safely back!"
Unharmed it shows without: but when he would explore
His sack's recesses, corn there finds he now no more:
One half of all therein proves rotten and decayed,
Upon the other half have worm and mildew preyed.
The putrid heap to him in ire he doth return,

Then of the other asks, "Where is my sack of corn?"
Who answered, "Come with me, and see how it has sped"-
And took, and showed him fields with waving harvests spread.
Then cheerfully the man laughed out and cried, "This one
Had insight, to make up for the other that had none;
The letter he observed, but thou the precept's sense;
And thus to thee and me shall profit grow from hence;
In harvest thou shalt fill two sacks of corn for me,
The residue of right remains in full for thee."

HOW AN OXFORD DIVINE BECAME A ROMAN CATHOLIC

PRIEST.

BY THE REV. JOHN PILLANS.

WE are not sorry that Dr. Newman has been led to tell the story of his life. With the circumstances that have led him to tell it we do not intermeddle, but he has passed through such remarkable changes that we are glad to learn from himself how they took place. His early years were tinged by a religious imagination that has deeply coloured his later life; but it was not till his fifteenth year that he became the subject of deep religious convictions. At that period the teaching of a good man was the means, as he then believed, and still believes, of his conversion. "Of this conversion," he says, "I still am more certain than that I have hands or feet." That early teaching was of the school of Calvin, and his early creed was, to a large extent, of the Genevan type. About six years later, when about twenty-one, he entered upon a new phase of his religious life. At that time he came under Oxford influences, and ere long his simple early faith became distasteful to him.

He had found grace, but he wanted a Church, and his life from that time till he entered the Church of Rome might be roughly described as "The troubles of a soul that has

found grace, in finding a Church." At Oxford, his early Calvinism soon melted away. For two or three years he came much under the influence of Dr. Hawkins, the present Provost of Oriel.

From him he received the doctrine of baptismal regeneration. He also heard Dr. Hawkins preach his celebrated sermon on tradition, in

which he maintained that the sacred text was never intended to teach doctrine, but only to prove it; and that to learn doctrine we must resort to the formularies of the Church. This view Dr. Newman at once accepted as most true and fruitful. One of its first fruits was the conviction that the Bible Society was radically wrong, and that he must withdraw from it. About the same time, a friend, in a walk round Christchurch-meadow, taught him the doctrine of Apostolical succession. Dr. Whately and he met at Oxford, and for a while Dr. Whately exercised considerable influence over him; but they were unlike, and were soon separated, not to meet again. Whately taught him to believe in the corporate existence of the Church, and to cherish those anti-Erastian views of Church polity which have been so marked a feature of the Tractarian movement.

Meanwhile, illness and bereavement fell upon Dr. Newman, and threw him back upon himself, and he was startled to find himself drifting towards religious indifference and liberalism. The shock turned the bent of his mind the other way, and identifying the two, or at least deeming them near neighbours, he made haste to escape from them as fast and as far as he could. While this inward change was taking place, a change was taking place in his circumstances and position that perhaps gave more decision to the inward change. Hitherto he had been little known, and had been reserved and hesitating, but now he

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