school and though some of the scholars were nearly his equals in age and growth, the way in which he managed to secure their attention greatly pleased the Superintendent, and we were in hopes of finding John Rogers a useful and valuable member of society. But alas! we were to be disappointed. His service, as a soldier of Christ in the Militant Church, was to be of short duration; he was destined soon to enter the higher and more perfect service of the church triumphant above. He had from his childhood suffered from an affection of the chest which had often caused anxiety to his parents, but as of late the symptoms had greatly diminished it was hoped that as he reached mature life they would altogether pass away. But this fond hope of his loving friends was soon to be blasted; for in the month of February last he was attacked by measles which brought on inflammation of the Lungs and soon put an end to his days on earth. Shortly after he was taken ill I visited him, and having no thought that his illness was to be fatal, I spoke to him of the importance of a full consecration to God, at once, that when restored he might be useful and happy. He then told me without the least hesitation that he was already fully decided for God. When I asked him how long he had been so, he referred me to the Covenant Service before alluded to. He said his sins were forgiven him, and he knew he was a child of God. A few days after, he grew worse, and it soon became evident that the disease had found out the weak part of his constitution and was settling on the Lungs. His friends were greatly alarmed, though the doctor gave hope. But he grew worse. His mother with true parental instinct was the first to discover danger and she seemed to have a fear from the first that she was about to lose her boy. But he felt no alarm. For a long time he thought he should recover, but when all hope was gone he was calm, I peaceful and happy. I said to him one day how sorry was to see him so ill and so likely to leave us, and he replied, "Oh I am not sorry sir," and spoke confidently of his interest in Christ and consequent safety. A few days before he died he called all his friends to his room. It was a touching sight. There were his grandmother, parents, brothers and sisters. He earnestly exhorted them one by one to give themselves to God. He then asked them all to kneel, and he prayed earnestly for the conversion of all present who were not converted. All were weeping except himself and he was calm and self-possessed. After this he said but little, his breathing was very laboured, and it was evident the end was not far off. What he did say, however, was expressive of confidence in Christ and an absence of all fear of death. When his voice and consciousness were failing, his pious mother, whose prayers and conversation had been great blessings to him during his illness, requested him if unable at the last to speak to raise his hand that she might know he was peaceful and resigned. On the afternoon of the day he died he repeated in broken sentences the words, "Yea, though I walk through the valley and the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, &c.," Just before he expired, his mother's request was remembered and the pale thin hand was raised to bear that testimony which the lips could no longer give to the presence and preciousness of Jesus. He gently passed away on Saturday, March 2nd, 1872, at about 9 o'clock in the evening, in the 18th year of his age. The Sabbath found him a worshipper in the upper temple. His funeral sermon was preached by the circuit minister, in Worle chapel, on Sunday Evening, March 17th, when a crowded chapel and a deeply affected people showed how much the departed youth was respected. sor-row Shall dim the eye nor ach-ing pain nor O, let me go, Death shall not there dissever, Our loving hearts, where streams of pleasure flow, Poetry. STARVED TO DEATH. WEARILY, drearily, comfortless, A girl sank down on a hard mattress, Mockingly! said I? yes, it was so, Where the lone one's father had breathed his last, They had lived on this-with him 'twas gone, Nor brothers nor sisters e'er had she, O! what a pleasure! starving together!- She had no blanket, nor sheet, nor shawl, Then fell the thought-scorchingly keen- Her spirit was broken: strength all gone: Go she could not, and starve she must- Words are feeble, they cannot express She died that night-when the next day dawned, Death-always cold-breathed so chilly there! Shook, as if he was palsied and old- He wept-for, at times, the tears will flow * A pauper's burial, half-finished rites- -Noble Love, and other Poems. |