on the assembly. Aaron in his sacerdotal robes could hardly have appeared in more princely attire. There was a simultaneous movement among the whole congregation, as the Bishop with his commanding figure, and imposing dress, took his stand, and crossed himself with the accustomed solemnity of the priests of his church. He read a most excellent and appropriate prayer in English from some Catholic Prayer Book, and then opened a Bible, which he had brought in his hand.

"The portion of the Holy Scriptures," said he, "which is read to day in the Catholic church, is the xvii. chapter of Luke." It was that chapter, which relates to the cleansing of the ten lepers, one of whom only returned to give praise and glory to God. There were some peculiarities in the translation. None, however, of any particular notice, excepting the phrase, "do penance," instead of "repentance."*

The exercise was in all parts very judicious and happy. There was nothing exceptionable in it, and the good feelings of all the passengers were cordially won towards himself, by the spirit of the serinon.

The service was closed by reading a short appropriate prayer, and the apostolic benediction accompanying it.

After the public services of the Sabbath were closed, the passengers generally, both before, and in the cabin, were quietly and silently occupied with books, or walking the decks in

As few of our readers have, probably, often had an opportunity to hear a Catholic sermon, we give a brief abstract of that delivered by the Bishop on this occasion. The preacher, should it meet his eye, must excuse its imperfections, as we had no stenographer on board. We have intended, however, to give as fair an account of it as is in our power. This is not the place to give our opinion on Catholic rites and doctrines. We wish now, simply to relate facts.

In commencing the discourse, the Bishop said that he should take his subject from the case of the nine ungrateful lepers who forgot and neglected the being, who had mercifully healed them. All of us had received innumerable blessings at the hand of God, and we had with equal ingratitude, returned disobedience and neglect. It was our duty to give glory to God. for all the blessings and enjoyments with which we were favored by the practice of religion.

In order to make it more clearly understood what the duties of religion were, he stated that we were under two-fold obligation to our Father in heaven.

1. The homage dae from our intellectual faculties.

2. From our bodily powers.

Under these two heads were comprehended all the duties enjoined by religion. The services we were to render in this double capacity of internal and external homage, were to be ascertained, not by reference to the opinions and speculations of men, but by the express command of God. And all our inquiries on this subject should relate exclusively, to the Divine Will. When that is ascertained, there must be an end to all farther investigation.

The genuine spirit of religion is, to make all our actions subserve the glory of God. "Whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do," to have his service uppermost as the great end of all. In this way, all the ordinary duties of life become the acts of religion. Performed in the right spirit, they are religion.

The Bishop then passed on to those religious duties which are exclusively acts of homage to God, or of pious effort for the good of man. He, however, touched briefly upon these points, and closed with a short and appropriate exhortation to his hearers to become strictly religious, and that without delay.

meditation. Here and there might be seen in different parts of the ship, an individual, or a little group, engaged in singing, but in a low tone, that they might not interrupt the numerous readers.

(To be continued.)

THE PRAYER-ANSWERING GOD.

"I dwell in a world where there's nothing my own,
Where the lightest event is beyond my control;
But to Him who is ruler-supreme and alone,
I humbly and gladly surrender the whole.
How pleasant 'mid changes and chances unthought,
On his wisdom and love to disburthen our care,
And to know, that the God who disposes our lot,
Is a God that will notice and answer our prayer.
"There are those whom I love, far away from me now,
And roaming through danger by shore and by sea,
And what were my feelings, my Father, if Thou
Wert not what Thou art, both to them and to me!

I cannot command the wild winds to be still;

I cannot compel the dark waves to forbear;
But one is above them who can and who will,

The God who still heareth and answereth prayer.
"Ah me! I look round me, and what are the smiles
And the looks that give life all its zest and its soul,
Mortality claims them, and sternly reviles

Affections vain struggle against her control,
I own it-I feel it—and humbled and awed,
I still dare to love them all frail as they are,
For I know we are all in the hands of a God,
Who pities our weakness and answers our prayer.

"Then here be my resting place-here will I sit,
Secure 'mid the changes of time and event,

For fate has no power but what he may permit,

And the hand that must take is the same that hath lent.

On His wisdom and goodness I calmly rely,

What e'er He assigns He can aid me to bear;

He knows what is good for me better than I,

And I trust will still hear me and answer my prayer."

THE INTERMENT OF WILBERFORCE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

For the Religious Magazine.

Nearly a thousand years ago, a convent was founded on the river Thames a few miles west of London, and as the name Minster was then applied to a monastic church, this was called from its position, the west minster. A town sprung up around it which gradually extended down the river towards London, which was itself also gradually extended up to meet it. The Abbey increased in wealth, and building after building was erected in the style of Gothic architecture common in those days. At last the monastic institution which held its seat there was suppressed, and the magnificent edifice was converted to public purposes.

This celebrated building, or rather cluster of buildings, for, from a little distance, it exhibits to the eye a splendid group of chapels, halls, spires and towers, which appear more like a village than a church, is Westminster Abbey, and is now far within the limits of London, i. e. of what is popularly called London. Volumes after volumes have been written, and engravings unnumbered have been executed, to describe and illustrate its history, its apartments, its monuments, its chapels, and the imposing magnificence of its ancient architecture. It is now the object of public attention chiefly from splendid ceremonies of state which are performed in the interior, and from the fact that the highest posthumous honor which can be paid in England to a soldier, a statesman, a poet or a philosopher is to give his ashes a place under its marble floor.

It was a day in the month of August last, that the body of William Wilberforce was to be deposited there, and a little after one, a long procession issued from the Parliament house, very near the Abbey, and passing through the large concourse of people which filled the street, they entered the iron gate and thence through the great Gothic door, at the west front of the Abbey. As the procession passed in, they found themselves ushered into the lower end of a most magnificent hall, with a paved floor, and lofty vaulted roof, and rows of grouped columns on each side, the spaces between which were ornamented with monuments of every possible form and design, the work of many centuries. The effect upon the feelings produced by coming, under such circumstances, into such an interior is almost overwhelming. The lofty height of the painted arches above, the richly carved columns and cornices, the immense

windows, and the splendid perspective before, as the eye turns up the church which extends hundreds of feet, all impress the mind with emotions of the highest kind.

Of course only a small part of so immense an interior as this, can be employed for purposes of oral address. This part is an enclosure on the floor of the church, towards the remoter end, and from this enclosure a spacious area extends on each side, into wings which form a part of the main building, giving to the whole interior the form of a cross, the usual form of the churches erected in the middle ages. The lower end of this enclosure is formed by the organ, and within it are a pulpit and ranges of seats for a congregation, the whole being called the Choir.

The procession was arranged in a straight line, extending up the church, a little to the left of the centre. Presently, a choir of about thirty singing boys and twenty men appeared. They came in from a side door, and advanced in a line parallel with the other procession. The boys, who were from eight to fourteen years of age, were all arrayed in rich dresses. Half of their number wore crimson velvet small clothes and blue stockings, the upper garment was a kind of loose frock-coat, ornamented with red and yellow frogs and gold lace. Others, wore white robes, and all carried before them a book of manuscript music, containing the burial service.

The men were clothed variously. Some wore long black gowns. Others were in white; some with scarfs, thrown over one shoulder, and tied under the other arm; several bore in their hands, a black wand. Next following this choir of singers, came the members of the House of Peers. Then the pall bearers, walking on each side of the coffin. The pall, which entirely concealed the coffin, was of rich black velvet with silken fringe and tassels. On the top of it, six or eight long black plumes were waving. Attendants followed the bier with similar plumes in their hands. The family and friends of the deceased, accompanied by many of the clergy and invited friends, closed the procession.

In this situation, the double procession stood waiting for the signal to advance. It was a moment of solemn silence, and most affecting interest. As the eye glanced up the Abbey, the clustered columns which supported the lofty roof, the Gothic arches springing from their summits and sustaining its fretted vault, produced a strong effect. The mellow light which came through the large painted windows, added not a little to the saddening influence of the scene.

A note from the organ was the signal to advance. The

choir commenced the chanting of the burial service, at the same moment that the procession, following the bier, moved forward. The notes of the organ and the voices of the choir, as they approached it, seemed to mingle together along the arches of the Abbey, and produced an effect which it is almost impossible to describe. The solemn appearance of the procession, its slow and measured tread, the soft and subdued voices of the singers, the notes of the distant organ, and the multitude of monuments meeting the eye in every direction, contributed to deepen the impression.

As the procession approached the choir, a large iron gate was thrown open, to adinit them to that part of the Abbey where the opening for depositing the body was made. It was in one of those projecting areas, the transept, as it is called, which have been already described. The strong iron gate which led off from the back of the organ to the left hand, guarded the entrance to that side of the transept. The train of singers, the united friends, the clergy, the Lords and Commons, all passed through, in succession, while the sad and solemn notes of the funeral service were echoing along the aisles of the Abbey. When the procession had passed, the iron gate was closed, and the multitude behind were left to look through the railing, while the crowded company of ladies and gentlemen, which had been admitted, went on, and gathered around the place of interment.

Every place in this part of the Abbey was soon occupied, every nook and corner filled. Some climbed upon the pedestals of the different monuments, and others stood clinging to iron railings. The choir of singers was arranged on one side of the grave; the bishops and dignitaries of the church stood

near.

After the procession had thus been arranged at the grave, the body was taken from the bier and laid at the mouth of the tomb. While the preparations were making to lay it in the earth, the choir began to sing, in the words of the Burial service, "Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live." "He cometh up and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the midst of life we are in death."

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*

While these solemn words were sung, the body was deposited in its last resting place, and the clergyman who conducted the obsequies of this his deceased brother, pronounces over the opened grave, which had just received its tenant, "We commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; looking for the general resurrection in the last