Memorial pamphlet for Emily Lumb and Fred Hoyle of Sowerby Bridge.
A memorial pamphlet, which is missing the cover and final page(s).
The couple, who were courting, had attended a Christian Endeavour Society meeting at Norland on the evening of 20 January 1903. After the meeting, they set off to walk home together to Sowerby Bridge in the thick fog and were not seen alive again. As their route would have required them to cross the River Calder, it was feared that they had both somehow fallen into the river and accidentally drowned.
Emily's body was eventually recovered a month later from the river near Cooper Bridge at around 4pm on 20 February by boatman Thomas Coupland. He had initially though the "unusual object floating in the water" was the carcase of an animal, but "soon found that it was a human body". That evening, the body was identified by the Rev. J.P. Burt of Sowerby Bridge.
The following day, Fred's body was recovered and taken to the White Cross Inn, near Brighouse, where the Coroner Mr E.H. Hill held an inquest that recorded a verdict of "drowned, by accidentially entering the water.
After the funerals, memorial services were held at Tuel Lane United Methodist Free Church and at Sowerby Congregational Church — the latter being "meant more especially for young people".
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| collection: | Leaflets, Pamphlets & Small Booklets |
| tags: | Cooper Bridge, Digitised Items, Emily Lumb (1884-1903), Fred Hoyle (1884-1903), Memorial Services, Pamphlets, River Calder, Sowerby Bridge, ~LKWDC1 |
| rights: | Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY) |
| date added: | 18 April 2017 |
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The following is an uncorrected automated OCR transcription and will likely contain errors (expand):
5
FUNERAL OF EMILY LUMB.
The Service at Norland Methodist Free Church.
CHE little Bethel at Norland was packed, and a great crowd, sufficient to fill the Chapel ten times over, remained outside. The service, of the simplest character, was shared by the Rev. J. P. Burt and the Rev. C. W. Evans. Mr. Burt, in an address, said it was with the greatest difficulty he was able to control his thoughts and feelings. The whole circumstances of the bereavement of these Sowerby Bridge families were so pathetic that one’s heart must be hard indeed to remain unmoved. It was not surprising that an event like that, in every wav so sad, had thrown a gloom throughout the town and through the whole neighbourhood, and that much sympathy had been expressed with the bereaved families in the great trial which had overtaken them with such suddenness. Two young people, in the very flower of youth, with all the possibilities of life opening up before them, to be struck down so suddenly, seemed to them staggering, bewildering, and inexplicable. It was only one of the many evidences which proved the truthfulness of those words with which they were so familiar, that God’s ways were past finding out; and yet there was something associated with this event that they could not forget, that they would not forget, and that was that the last hour these two spent together on earth was spent in Christian fellowship and Christian service, and little did they think that God was going to take them so speedily and so suddenly to the higher service of heaven. A more suitable preparation they surely could not have had. Since then they had all known something of the mystery and the suspense, and their hearts had gone out with the deepest sympathy to those families who had been bereaved, and their hearts were with them to-day. In God’s providence they had to submit themselves to the wisdom of His plan, which was wiser than theirs. They looked at the wrong side of the tapestry which was being woven. All appeared to be tangled and confused, so far as they could see. God saw it from the other side of the design—where the colours beatifully blended together—so they had to trust in His
6
wisdom. As Christ entered into the home at Bethany to comfort and console the hearts distressed, so might He to-day enter into these two homes of sorrow, and might they be comforted in the midnight of their grief. That was their sincere and earnest prayer.
FUNERAL OF FRED HOYLE.
The Service at Sowerby Congregational Church.
The services at the house, at the Congregational Church, Sowerby, and at the graveside, were conducted by the Rev. W. C. Evans, and the Rev. j. P. Burt. The Congregational Church at Sowerby was crowded, and very many persons remained outside in the pouring rain. As the cortege entered the Church the organist played “The Dead March,” and as they left he also rendered an appropriate selection.
The Rev. W. C. Evans, in a brief address, said they were met under the shadow of a cloud. They did not wish to ignore sorrow. The presence of that large gathering of friends and sympathisers proved that they all felt that the present sorrow was a great reality. They would be glad to do something to alleviate the sorrow—to lighten it. The world had its method of alleviating sorrow, but it was ineffectual, and never succeeded. The only way to banish darkness from the room was to let in the light, and to banish this sorrow the only way was to let in the light of the Gospel—the light of the living God. To their departed friends death had been a real and eternal gain. The teacher of a class at Norland, of which Fred Hoyle was a member, had told him what a faithful soul he, was, how attentive to the class, and if any one should say a word against the Bible how he stood up for it. That was a beautiful testimonial, a very valuable testimonial, for a youth to think in that way, and act in that brave fashion. As mourners there that day they had no need to be anxious for the departed lovers. They were safe for ever in the keeping of Christ. Wounded hearts could never be healed instantly, but they believed in the word of God, which had a balm for every sorrow, a balm for every wound.
Jytemorial Service.
On Wednesday, February 25th, a Memorial Service was held at Tuel Lane United Methodist Free Church, conducted by the Rev. J. P. Burt. The large building was filled, the gallery being occupied by Christian Endeavourers from Sowerby Bridge and District.
At the commencement of the service the organist, Mr. J. Whiteley, rendered effectively “O rest in the Lord.” The hymns sung were "O God, the Rock of Ages,” " A few more years shall roll,” and "Lead, kindly Light.” The Choir sang the Anthem, “What are these arrayed in white robes ? ” The duet was also rendered, “Brother and Sister, fare you well! ”
Mr. Burt delivered an address from the following text:—
“ Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided.” 2 Samuel, i. 23.
In the chapter from which our text is taken we have an account of the tidings of the death of Saul and Jonathan, carried to David at Ziklag by an Amalekite, and of David’s sorrowful reception of the news. " Then David took hold on his clothes, and rent them ; and likewise all the men that were with him: And they mourned, and wept, and fasted until ev^n for Saul, and for Jonathan his son, and for the people of the Lord, and for the house of Israel; because they were fallen by the sword.” After such a manifestation of genuine grief, one would think that David had made full payment of that debt of honour he owed to the memory of Saul, that the matter might have ended there. Such was not the case, however. " David was a man after God’s own heart,” and on no occasion does his magnanimous disposition appear to greater advantage than here. Saul had manifested a bitter and relentless hostility to David during his lifetime, but David’s sense of honour did not admit of his fighting dead men, or speaking ill of those who had passed away. Saul had wronged David on many occasions; David did not wreak his vengeance on Saul’s memory when he was in his grave, but with a sense of honour never surpassed before or since, he buried the hatchet, and concealed his faults. Such magnanimity is magnificent, and worthy the emulation of us all. " Say nothing
8
but good concerning the dead,” is an aphorism followed by David in this old-time incident. The unpleasant memory should be buried with the corrupt part of man. When once those solemn words are pronounced—“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”— charity whispers with loving voice, let the blemish be hid, forget all grievances, draw a veil over the deformities. This is what David did. The lamentation of David for his friend, whose friendship had never faltered in the worst of circumstances, nor wearied in the best; and even over Saul (whose persecutions had been persistent and cruel) is inimitably pathetic and beautiful, not an ungenerous word appearing in this masterly elegy.
“ And David lamented with this lamentation over Saul and over Jonathan his son :
“The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen !
“ Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon ; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph.
“ Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul as though he had not been anointed with oil. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty.” “ Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided.” Whatever differences had existed between Saul and David these words imply that there had been harmony between Saul and Jonathan. “They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided,” but kept close together in the stand they made against the Philistines, and fell in the same cause.
The tragic circumstances which have brought us together impressed this part of David’s elegy so firmly upon my mind, that with this service in view, I felt I could speak from no more appropriate text, were I to ransack the Bible. It is apposite if we view the two assertions separately, it is equally apposite if we consider them together. The one is as true as the other, “ They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided.”
For a moment let us see how the former part of the text is applicable on this occasion. “ They were lovely and pleasant (or sweet) in their lives.” What is there more beautiful than youth-hood? The season which Augustine calls “the flower of our days.” Cicero calls it “the blessed time,” Seneca “the best of life,” and the Elizabethan writers speak of “the primrose of youth.” With all its hope, its health, its freedom from care and anxiety, it is ever beautiful. And as Geikie says:—“The highest endowment of youth is its religiousness. It is generally in the dawning day that God wrestles with men, and wins them to Himself. How great the glory of youth, thus related to God, is beyond putting into words. There is nothing grander among men. A young life, freely given to God in the dew of its early hours, with
9
its strength and unbroken vigour, its energy, its hope and enthusiasm, is a spectacle equally touching and elevating. Earth gives its best to heaven at such times. Youth, beautiful always, never looks so Divine as when it beams with the favour of God.” Bacon, in his essay on “ Youth and Age,” speaks of a certain Rabbi preaching from the text, “ Your young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream dreams,” inferring that young men are admitted nearer to God than old; because vision is a clearer revelation than a dream. Whether we accept the inference or not, all readily agree that no flower grows in the garden of God’s church sweeter or more beautiful than the rose bud of youth.
“ Gather your rosebuds while you may,
Old time is still a-flying;
And flowers which bloom so fair to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.”
It is not our desire to praise the dead— they are beyond our praise—but we venture to think that the silver lining to the dark cloud which has overshadowed the homes of our friends, will be the esteem in which those whose loss we mourn were held by their employers, together with the fact that their youthful hearts had been yielded to Jesus. It is this thought which robs death, as nothing else can, of its sting. “ Oh, death, where is thy sting ? Oh, grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law, but thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
I have lived over to-day, in imagination, the past few weeks. I have pictured myself calling at the house of friend Lumb, an hour before the service on that fatal night, the 20th of January. I have recalled the vision of a home where happiness held unbroken sway. I have seen a young man, a friend of the family, a fellow Christian Endeavourer, seated at the piano. I have listened to the echo of a voice never more to be heard on earth, in a hymn full of premonition, than which nothing could have been more suitable, and I cannot but repeat it.
“ The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of heaven breaks,
The summer morn I’ve sighed for—
The fair sweet morn awakes.
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But day-spring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel’s land.
Oh Christ He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love !
The streams on earth I’ve tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above :
There, to an ocean fulness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel’s land.
10
I’ve wrestled on toward heaven,
’Gainst storm, and wind, and tide ;
Now, like a weary traveller That leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life’s lingering sand,
I hail the glory dawning From Immanuel’s land.
Deep waters crossed life’s pathway,
The hedge of thorns was sharp ;
Now these lie all behind me —
Oh for a well-tuned harp !
Oh to join Hallelujah
With yon triumphant band,
Who sing, where glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel’s land.”
I have pictured the Christian Endeavour Societies* assembling at the little School-room on the hill top. I have seen the sister of Emily rise to sing that hymn from Sankey,
“ Is there room for Mary there ? ”
I have listened to the sweet refrain taken up by the member^, including the two so soon to enter that spacious home of God,
“Come, there’s room ; yes, there’s room,
Room with the glorified angel band ;
Come, there’s room, yes, there’s room,
Room in the beautiful heavenly land.”
I have called to mind the dark foggy night as we emerged from the School-room, the walk down Fall Lane—which will ever carry with it a sad memory—and the last goocl-night conveyed through lips now silent. When I thanked God for a safe return, little did I think that a calamity so great had happened. Little did I know of the anxious night to be spent in search of the missing loved ones.
What has happened since is known only too well. The awful suspense, the heroic but fruitless efforts of friends to reclaim the bodies, the thrill of sadness which ran through the neighbourhood when the mystery was solved and the worst became known. Our heart’s sympathy has gone out to the homes which have been invaded by death, our tears have mingled with those most nearly related, who stagger under the blow which has removed two bright and promising young lives. God’s purposes are veiled. The workings of His providence we cannot understand. It is ours to try to believe that to the good nothing evil ever happens, that they are never overlooked by God for a moment. One who was no stranger to trouble said, “ Thou hast known my soul in adversities.” One adequate support for the calamities of mortal life exists—one only—an assured belief that our life, however sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being of infinite benevolence and power, whose everlasting purposes embrace all accidents (as we call them), converting them to good. The day will come, when our vision will be clearer
* The Baptists unite with thefjFree Methodists at Norland in the Weekly C. E. Meetings.
FUNERAL OF EMILY LUMB.
The Service at Norland Methodist Free Church.
CHE little Bethel at Norland was packed, and a great crowd, sufficient to fill the Chapel ten times over, remained outside. The service, of the simplest character, was shared by the Rev. J. P. Burt and the Rev. C. W. Evans. Mr. Burt, in an address, said it was with the greatest difficulty he was able to control his thoughts and feelings. The whole circumstances of the bereavement of these Sowerby Bridge families were so pathetic that one’s heart must be hard indeed to remain unmoved. It was not surprising that an event like that, in every wav so sad, had thrown a gloom throughout the town and through the whole neighbourhood, and that much sympathy had been expressed with the bereaved families in the great trial which had overtaken them with such suddenness. Two young people, in the very flower of youth, with all the possibilities of life opening up before them, to be struck down so suddenly, seemed to them staggering, bewildering, and inexplicable. It was only one of the many evidences which proved the truthfulness of those words with which they were so familiar, that God’s ways were past finding out; and yet there was something associated with this event that they could not forget, that they would not forget, and that was that the last hour these two spent together on earth was spent in Christian fellowship and Christian service, and little did they think that God was going to take them so speedily and so suddenly to the higher service of heaven. A more suitable preparation they surely could not have had. Since then they had all known something of the mystery and the suspense, and their hearts had gone out with the deepest sympathy to those families who had been bereaved, and their hearts were with them to-day. In God’s providence they had to submit themselves to the wisdom of His plan, which was wiser than theirs. They looked at the wrong side of the tapestry which was being woven. All appeared to be tangled and confused, so far as they could see. God saw it from the other side of the design—where the colours beatifully blended together—so they had to trust in His
6
wisdom. As Christ entered into the home at Bethany to comfort and console the hearts distressed, so might He to-day enter into these two homes of sorrow, and might they be comforted in the midnight of their grief. That was their sincere and earnest prayer.
FUNERAL OF FRED HOYLE.
The Service at Sowerby Congregational Church.
The services at the house, at the Congregational Church, Sowerby, and at the graveside, were conducted by the Rev. W. C. Evans, and the Rev. j. P. Burt. The Congregational Church at Sowerby was crowded, and very many persons remained outside in the pouring rain. As the cortege entered the Church the organist played “The Dead March,” and as they left he also rendered an appropriate selection.
The Rev. W. C. Evans, in a brief address, said they were met under the shadow of a cloud. They did not wish to ignore sorrow. The presence of that large gathering of friends and sympathisers proved that they all felt that the present sorrow was a great reality. They would be glad to do something to alleviate the sorrow—to lighten it. The world had its method of alleviating sorrow, but it was ineffectual, and never succeeded. The only way to banish darkness from the room was to let in the light, and to banish this sorrow the only way was to let in the light of the Gospel—the light of the living God. To their departed friends death had been a real and eternal gain. The teacher of a class at Norland, of which Fred Hoyle was a member, had told him what a faithful soul he, was, how attentive to the class, and if any one should say a word against the Bible how he stood up for it. That was a beautiful testimonial, a very valuable testimonial, for a youth to think in that way, and act in that brave fashion. As mourners there that day they had no need to be anxious for the departed lovers. They were safe for ever in the keeping of Christ. Wounded hearts could never be healed instantly, but they believed in the word of God, which had a balm for every sorrow, a balm for every wound.
Jytemorial Service.
On Wednesday, February 25th, a Memorial Service was held at Tuel Lane United Methodist Free Church, conducted by the Rev. J. P. Burt. The large building was filled, the gallery being occupied by Christian Endeavourers from Sowerby Bridge and District.
At the commencement of the service the organist, Mr. J. Whiteley, rendered effectively “O rest in the Lord.” The hymns sung were "O God, the Rock of Ages,” " A few more years shall roll,” and "Lead, kindly Light.” The Choir sang the Anthem, “What are these arrayed in white robes ? ” The duet was also rendered, “Brother and Sister, fare you well! ”
Mr. Burt delivered an address from the following text:—
“ Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided.” 2 Samuel, i. 23.
In the chapter from which our text is taken we have an account of the tidings of the death of Saul and Jonathan, carried to David at Ziklag by an Amalekite, and of David’s sorrowful reception of the news. " Then David took hold on his clothes, and rent them ; and likewise all the men that were with him: And they mourned, and wept, and fasted until ev^n for Saul, and for Jonathan his son, and for the people of the Lord, and for the house of Israel; because they were fallen by the sword.” After such a manifestation of genuine grief, one would think that David had made full payment of that debt of honour he owed to the memory of Saul, that the matter might have ended there. Such was not the case, however. " David was a man after God’s own heart,” and on no occasion does his magnanimous disposition appear to greater advantage than here. Saul had manifested a bitter and relentless hostility to David during his lifetime, but David’s sense of honour did not admit of his fighting dead men, or speaking ill of those who had passed away. Saul had wronged David on many occasions; David did not wreak his vengeance on Saul’s memory when he was in his grave, but with a sense of honour never surpassed before or since, he buried the hatchet, and concealed his faults. Such magnanimity is magnificent, and worthy the emulation of us all. " Say nothing
8
but good concerning the dead,” is an aphorism followed by David in this old-time incident. The unpleasant memory should be buried with the corrupt part of man. When once those solemn words are pronounced—“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”— charity whispers with loving voice, let the blemish be hid, forget all grievances, draw a veil over the deformities. This is what David did. The lamentation of David for his friend, whose friendship had never faltered in the worst of circumstances, nor wearied in the best; and even over Saul (whose persecutions had been persistent and cruel) is inimitably pathetic and beautiful, not an ungenerous word appearing in this masterly elegy.
“ And David lamented with this lamentation over Saul and over Jonathan his son :
“The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen !
“ Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon ; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph.
“ Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul as though he had not been anointed with oil. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty.” “ Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided.” Whatever differences had existed between Saul and David these words imply that there had been harmony between Saul and Jonathan. “They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided,” but kept close together in the stand they made against the Philistines, and fell in the same cause.
The tragic circumstances which have brought us together impressed this part of David’s elegy so firmly upon my mind, that with this service in view, I felt I could speak from no more appropriate text, were I to ransack the Bible. It is apposite if we view the two assertions separately, it is equally apposite if we consider them together. The one is as true as the other, “ They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided.”
For a moment let us see how the former part of the text is applicable on this occasion. “ They were lovely and pleasant (or sweet) in their lives.” What is there more beautiful than youth-hood? The season which Augustine calls “the flower of our days.” Cicero calls it “the blessed time,” Seneca “the best of life,” and the Elizabethan writers speak of “the primrose of youth.” With all its hope, its health, its freedom from care and anxiety, it is ever beautiful. And as Geikie says:—“The highest endowment of youth is its religiousness. It is generally in the dawning day that God wrestles with men, and wins them to Himself. How great the glory of youth, thus related to God, is beyond putting into words. There is nothing grander among men. A young life, freely given to God in the dew of its early hours, with
9
its strength and unbroken vigour, its energy, its hope and enthusiasm, is a spectacle equally touching and elevating. Earth gives its best to heaven at such times. Youth, beautiful always, never looks so Divine as when it beams with the favour of God.” Bacon, in his essay on “ Youth and Age,” speaks of a certain Rabbi preaching from the text, “ Your young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream dreams,” inferring that young men are admitted nearer to God than old; because vision is a clearer revelation than a dream. Whether we accept the inference or not, all readily agree that no flower grows in the garden of God’s church sweeter or more beautiful than the rose bud of youth.
“ Gather your rosebuds while you may,
Old time is still a-flying;
And flowers which bloom so fair to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.”
It is not our desire to praise the dead— they are beyond our praise—but we venture to think that the silver lining to the dark cloud which has overshadowed the homes of our friends, will be the esteem in which those whose loss we mourn were held by their employers, together with the fact that their youthful hearts had been yielded to Jesus. It is this thought which robs death, as nothing else can, of its sting. “ Oh, death, where is thy sting ? Oh, grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law, but thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
I have lived over to-day, in imagination, the past few weeks. I have pictured myself calling at the house of friend Lumb, an hour before the service on that fatal night, the 20th of January. I have recalled the vision of a home where happiness held unbroken sway. I have seen a young man, a friend of the family, a fellow Christian Endeavourer, seated at the piano. I have listened to the echo of a voice never more to be heard on earth, in a hymn full of premonition, than which nothing could have been more suitable, and I cannot but repeat it.
“ The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of heaven breaks,
The summer morn I’ve sighed for—
The fair sweet morn awakes.
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But day-spring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel’s land.
Oh Christ He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love !
The streams on earth I’ve tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above :
There, to an ocean fulness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel’s land.
10
I’ve wrestled on toward heaven,
’Gainst storm, and wind, and tide ;
Now, like a weary traveller That leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life’s lingering sand,
I hail the glory dawning From Immanuel’s land.
Deep waters crossed life’s pathway,
The hedge of thorns was sharp ;
Now these lie all behind me —
Oh for a well-tuned harp !
Oh to join Hallelujah
With yon triumphant band,
Who sing, where glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel’s land.”
I have pictured the Christian Endeavour Societies* assembling at the little School-room on the hill top. I have seen the sister of Emily rise to sing that hymn from Sankey,
“ Is there room for Mary there ? ”
I have listened to the sweet refrain taken up by the member^, including the two so soon to enter that spacious home of God,
“Come, there’s room ; yes, there’s room,
Room with the glorified angel band ;
Come, there’s room, yes, there’s room,
Room in the beautiful heavenly land.”
I have called to mind the dark foggy night as we emerged from the School-room, the walk down Fall Lane—which will ever carry with it a sad memory—and the last goocl-night conveyed through lips now silent. When I thanked God for a safe return, little did I think that a calamity so great had happened. Little did I know of the anxious night to be spent in search of the missing loved ones.
What has happened since is known only too well. The awful suspense, the heroic but fruitless efforts of friends to reclaim the bodies, the thrill of sadness which ran through the neighbourhood when the mystery was solved and the worst became known. Our heart’s sympathy has gone out to the homes which have been invaded by death, our tears have mingled with those most nearly related, who stagger under the blow which has removed two bright and promising young lives. God’s purposes are veiled. The workings of His providence we cannot understand. It is ours to try to believe that to the good nothing evil ever happens, that they are never overlooked by God for a moment. One who was no stranger to trouble said, “ Thou hast known my soul in adversities.” One adequate support for the calamities of mortal life exists—one only—an assured belief that our life, however sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being of infinite benevolence and power, whose everlasting purposes embrace all accidents (as we call them), converting them to good. The day will come, when our vision will be clearer
* The Baptists unite with thefjFree Methodists at Norland in the Weekly C. E. Meetings.