TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.
Madam,
When he whom seraphs adored, was, in compassion to Adam's lost race, about to manifest himself in flesh to redeem them, there was no room for him even at an inn. On the occurrence of that most interesting and extraordinary of all the events that ever happened in time, the virgin that bore the incarnate Deity—the creator of worlds unnumbered—could find no place of repose but a stable. If inspired with divine love, you will probably say, in youthful simplicity, were he to appear on earth again, I would set apart the palace of my ancestors for his reception. The thought and the feelings it indicates, are of celestial origin; but the opportunity of thus entertaining the heavenly guest, is gone, never to return—never will he in like manner visit earth again. On ascending to the primeval abode of his glory—the glory which he had with his father before the world was, and before the morning stars of creation sang together—all the wants of humanity, to which those who loved him while on earth had the privilege of ministering, for ever ceased. Still the Redeemer of men has wants. He still lives in his ministers, who are commissioned to proclaim the object of his death to the world, and to set up a kingdom for him. They, while thus employed, are often hungry, thirsty, cold, and naked; and, like to him in the days of his humiliation, know not sometimes where to lay their heads. To those therefore who for his name' sake minister to their wants, he will say at the last day: "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these—ye did it unto me."
The author of this Appeal, anxious to obtain the means of supporting those who may be employed in erecting the Redeemer's kingdom in the Southern hemisphere, has determined to approach Your Majesty with his humble but important suit. Millions upon millions have been spent in hurrying men into perdition, merely to gain a useless crown or an empty title, while tide paramount concerns of eternity have been banished from the counsels of nations. The salvation of a continent would be the brightest gem that ever adorned the diadem of a sovereign; and its attainment, though it would really cost little, would be worth the expenditure of millions: but who could
