spring of 1834, while we were waiting, in, his beloved wife. Dear as she had ever perhaps too confident expectation, for his appointment to one of the situations to which we have referred, his health suddenly failed. A very severe attack came on, in which all his former suffering seemed to return in a much higher degree. The physical and mental anguish he endured was most distressing to his friends. When we cast a glance full of grief on him, he would repeat from Luther's translation the promise, 'Out of six troubles I have saved thee; and int he seventh shall no evil befal thee;' adding, 'He has said it to me, who is the TRUTH: six great troubles have passed over me, this is the last, then comes life."

:

On July 11th, he writes to a friend :"Only pray with me, that God, if He determines to let me continue longer here, may at last find me worthy to be released from the fiery ordeal which I have undergone so long, and which, during these last months, has glowed with such intensity. I pray, constantly; I have done so for years; morning and evening, and often during the day, I turn my eyes, filled with burning tears, to heaven; but the chain that irritates my wounds, and bows me down, falls not off. But I cease not to pray, and my last breath shall offer up the prayer, Deliver me from evil." "

of

We now come to the closing days Möwes' earthly pilgrimage; and for an account of these, and of his death, we shall give an extract or two from a letter written by a friend who witnessed the closing scene:

"We entered on the spring with hope. Möwes thought that the use of the mineral waters which he was then drinking would complete his recovery. But what bitter deception was this, to us at least! To him nothing was a surprise. Before the close of April, the hemorrhage returned, to a greater extent than before. It continued, with very little intermission, for a whole week. . . . . . . Möwes recovered again to a certain degree, and was strong enough, in August, to undertake the journey to Magdeburg; and on the parish of Bahrendorf becoming vacant, he made application for it. His strength increased rapidly during his stay in Magdeburg; so much so, that all his friends said they had never seen him so well. Oh! how suddenly all was changed! In the second week of his stay, the bleeding at his lungs returned with new symptoms, and he wrote, in serious alarm, for

been, he seemed to press her closer to his heart as the time of their separation approached; indeed, he felt it quite a privation to lose sight of her for an hour. She went in haste to him; the moment he saw her, quick tears of joy ran down his pale cheeks, his eyes sparkled, and he could only say, 'Now I shall never again be separated from you, my dear wife; never till death.' They returned directly to Altenhausen. In all his sorrow and suffering, he held his beloved and deeply-tried wife in full remembrance. One day, when we were sitting in a state of fearful anticipation, he, enfeebled almost to death as he was, rose, and walked towards her; his strength was not equal to the effort, and he sank powerless on the floor. He was so completely helpless, that we could not move him back into his room; it seemed impossible to raise him ; we had a bed brought and placed on the ground, and we laid him on it. What a spectacle, to see a man once so powerful lie thus, and to hear the sorrowful tones of that heart which at other times never complained! After the lapse of an hour and a-half, we were able to take him into his room.. He rejoiced in dying; for to him it was the same as living. A week before his death, when he had received the holy sacrament, and was, as he thought, at the point of death, he said, 'I shall soon stand before the throne of God; my soul might tremble when she looks back on a life, in which so little has

been accomplished, which I ought and wished to have done; and with deep repentance I feel how far I am below the high aim which was placed before me; but yet I tremble not; but I die peacefully, joyfully, for my Lord and Saviour will answer for me in judgment; and if my weakness will allow, I shall pass hence with songs of triumph.'... My spirit trembles, and yet rejoices, when I look back on this time. Full well I know that this account will deeply impress you. To me it was sometimes very striking to observe, that, almost agonized as he was, he was never overwhelmed; absolute distress of spirit he never appeared to have; never did I see his tranquillity or peace fail; and this was because, strong as his suffering and conflict might be, he was yet stronger. During the heavenly service, and after it, his eye sparkled with light, a sweet smile was on his lips, he looked already like a glorious spirit; as if his soul had been then free from the body it had so long borne. . . . . . But his God came not for him; he had yet days and nights to wait. Yet more; it was, I think, on

He

A GLANCE OUT OF THE FIERY TRIAL.

When wilt thou come, bright angel of deliv'rance,
Bearing glad letters of discharge, which now,
Een now, my Father's hand holds out to view?
When wilt thou lead me from this depth of woe,
Where for long years my spirit has been held?
Oh! it has been as he, the faithful one
of old. looked o'er the waste of waters wide
For the sunk earth, that my worn spirit pines
With longings faint, for life, the strong, the free.
How has the bitterness of quenched hope
Been mine! Through the dim light, a row of steps
seemed leading up to the high prison door,
And a low voice without fell on my ear,
The enchanter's spell is broken," and I heard
The heavy bolt draw back, which barred my flight
To freedom-'Twas but my jailor's malice,
Making his joy of my delusion still.
Yet stand my dungeon's walls, firm, strong.
Hard, damp,

And the short chain still holds me to the wall.

the Monday following, that official infor- | spirit was released-the noble spirit. I mation was received, that his majesty asked him, 'Dear Möwes, is your Saviour was pleased to direct that Henry Möwes and God still your rod and staff in the should either be nominated successor to valley of the shadow of death?' the military chaplain Z-, as superinten- turned his dying head towards me, and dent at Weferlingen; or, if he preferred lightly pressed my hand in assent; I then it, he should be appointed to the living pronounced the benediction over him, at Bahrendorf. Why this now? I think and he bowed his head, and his spirit the intention of the Lord was, yet once departed to her much-loved Lord, and more to try his servant, and prove found her long-sought home." whether earth, presenting such a prospect before him, could not draw off his eye from heaven. Oh! how entirely different would not the lives of his wife and children become, if he might again enter his office! I imparted the intelligence to him; he received it with perfect tranquillity. .. Monday the 13th came. Renewed bleedings marked even this day; the dear sufferer sighed in heart-rending tones, My much loved Lord, come! wilt thou not come?' and then, in a weaker voice, My God, let it be the last time!' And he who cried was heard. The evening came. Madame Möwes and I were to watch by him the first half of the night, and our faithful servant the second part. We did not expect he would leave us that night. After nine o'clock, he spoke much to himself, but we could not follow his thoughts; he afterwards became more quiet. He lay in the large room, with his back towards the first window. I was exhausted, and retired into the anteroom to rest; if possible, to sleep a little. About eleven o'clock, Madame Möwes came in, and said, oh! with what a voice! Ah! he is dying!' I went to his couch; there he lay, with failing eyes and closed lips, stiff, pale, and dying; his spirit struggling with death. His hands sought ours for the last greeting; he held us fast, his dear wife on one side, me on the other. Then I called the children, the dear, young, tender children, and the faithful Dorothy. No cry of sorrow was heard; nothing disturbed our tranquillity; our God was among us, and sustained us all. We sang the hymn he so loved, Christ is my life.' You remember it was his own wish, expressed in his parting words,' that we should do so. His wife then read the beautiful hymn, commencing, There is a peace at hand.' I offered the prayer for the dying, 'Protect us, O faithful God, our Father, so rich in love,' &c. Though his words could no longer express it, his whole appearance indicated joy. The solemn moment of departure ever came nearer and nearer, yet he remained with us. Hour after hour passed away; we trembled at the sight of the struggle; his dear wife and I threw ourselves beside his couch, and prayed earnestly for his deliverance. At last the

The floor beneath. Fast closed the massive bolts,
But the free eye, unfettered, wanders forth,
And in the light that through my grating gleams,
Greeteth her own. E'en that sinall ray of light,
He the dark prison master, fain would quench,
Building it in. He is a horrid form,
Such as man trembles at, a spectral shape,
Wearing the mask of pity, and in scorn
Laughing at pity's self. Darkly to me
He said, Long will thy cross endure, for see
How He to whom thou prayest, here hast cast
Thee and thy living body deep within
These foul and fearful walls-and this, oh! this,
Can a dear Father do? Believe it not.
Nay, He has given thee over to my will;
So let him go, my friend! join hands with me,
The glorious paradise He promised thee,
Thou seest at last -'tis here." So spake the fiend,
And, with a glance malignant at the light
Which through the iron grating brightly fell,
Turned him toward me: in that dark scowling

face

Hell glowed.

But to my wounded heart I pressed The life-procuring cross. And he slunk back, And turned his demon head; but once again Boldly I cried, "Strike on, that is thy work; Mine is to bear it, to my Saviour's praise Bravely, and to thy shame.

destroy,

Thou would'st

And with thy savage labour scarce content,
Still addest fuel, nor my God restrains.
He checks thee not, because he fan would have
True and refined gold. The brand may burn,
I am but melted in the glowing flame
Closer together, till at last is heard
The great Refiner's voice, The gold is pure.'”
Ere I had spoken, the dark master vanish'd.

in my solitude was not alone,
The dim light of the grating brought to view
The bright companions of my holiest hours.
FAITH, with her queenly head, high in the stars;
HOPE, with her pearly band; PATIENCE, her
glance

In the holy distance, and the branch of palm

In her quiet hand.

HYMNS FOR INVALIDS.

(SELECTED.)

ing his right hand to the general, and placing the left upon his shoulder, he said, in a voice trembling with emotion, "Happy Ziethen, would that I could believe like you! I have all respect for your faith. Hold it fast; I promise never to do this again." As the occurrence put a complete arrest upon the conversation, Frederick, although much sooner than usual, rose from the table, dismissed the other guests, and taking Ziethen by the hand, kindly said to him, "Come with me into my cabinet." What passed between them there, no one saw or heard; but ever afterwards Frederick treated Ziethen with greater respect and affection than ever; and after his death, when the discipline and morals of the army became greatly impaired, used often to say, "Old Ziethen was right. Oh! that I had my army of the Seven Years' War again!"

Religious Entelligence.

ILLUSTRATION OF POPERY AND THE WORK OF REFORMATION IN IRELAND.