this great happiness." Her husband alluded to this verse, "Death is a path that must be trod, If ever man would meet with God; From the rough rage of swelling seas." Some reflections followed, on the blessedness of the change from the storms of time to the haven of rest, whose security and peace they cannot interrupt. He seemed willing that the companion of his pilgrimage should reach it before him, knowing that a few short years would end his trials too. Jeanie said, she knew by experience that every trial was a mercy we should one day bless God for. She was interrupted by a severe fit of coughing, and on her recovery said, that during her nights of tossing she remembered those words, "Wearisome nights are appointed unto me," and, "I am full of tossing to and fro till the dawning of the day." But her sleepless nights had become her most delightful seasons: when her body was pained and exhausted, her heart arose to God, and her meditation of Him was sweet, and then she more than ever felt that though weak, in Him she had righteousness and strength. Happy Christian! when heart and flesh fail, God is thy portion, and at the swellings of Jordan, glory begins to settle on thy soul ! Jeanie referred to her early days. In her experience, God had proved himself a Father to the fatherless, she was able to trace His providence in all that had befallen her. I asked her if her sufferings had not made her impatient and distrustful. "Oh no, I have not had one too many, they have all been for my purifying. My God took me up when my earthly comforts were few, and He has led me on till now. I would not wish one sorrow less, if my time were to come again; and now, while He smites with the one hand, He upholds with the other." How can it be otherwise, Jeanie, when it is your Father who appoints your lot? "I have often thought," she replied, "that I, who have had no earthly parents to engross my affection, should love my heavenly Father more than his other children. I had nothing to come between Him and my soul, or to divide my love." She spoke of many scenes in which God had been her defence: "Oh, I have been mercifully dealt with-I have been bountifully dealt with." Her thankfulness for trial recalled to me some lines of Bowdler, when, after dwelling on the sorrows that may attend the believer, he adds, "Yet who the backward path hath scanned, The lateness of the hour compelled me to take leave of this humble dwelling, where the Comforter was soothing the spirit of an heir of glory. Many times I revisited it, but I left the neighbourhood before her sufferings closed. It was on a Sabbath evening that I took leave of my declining friend. I found her seated in a large chair, supported by pillows, and looking as if all her strength was gone, yet so happy, that I could compare her to nothing but a feeble and confiding child who entrusts himself without fear to a parent whose love he has never thought of doubting. Her smile of welcome was more sad than usual, for she knew that we should meet no more on earth. She spoke of the quiet spot in the churchyard that would soon cover all that remained of her, and of the hope full of immortality that kept her heart from sinking. She pointed me, too, to the gathering-place of the church of the Redeemer, which was opening to receive her, and to the short and quickly-traversed space that might divide me from it. One of the last rays of the evening sun darted into the room, and seemed to afford an earnest of that blessed meeting. Our sorrow was mingled with lively hope, and we were glad that the sacred day was that on which we must part till the dawning of a Sabbath without end. She expressed a desire that as we had often united in prayer, we should continue to maintain this valued fellowship, by praying for each other at a stated hour of each day that was added to her life. This agreement she never forgot: some one entered the room, and I bid my sister in Jesus farewell, and saw her no more. 66 From the commencement of her evident decline, her husband had not concealed from her his belief that she was dying; and, in consequence of this sincerity, she had not feared to tell him how surely she was aware of her approaching end, and to speak of her feelings in the prospect; and, like Hopeful among his fellow-travellers, she encouraged and strengthened him when sad and sorrowful. "Oh," she would say, when she saw his grief, come close to Christ, and we shall soon meet again. You know the Lord has only lent me to you for a little while, He has a better right to me than you have." Several times, when enduring great agony, she begged him to join her in prayer that God would in mercy grant her a speedy removal, for she thought the moment long delayed that should set her free from her body of sin and death; she longed to be carried by angels to her heavenly home. Yet she said she was resigned to stay for greater pangs, if such should be His will; and her patience never failed. Though her serenity and cheerfulness were so great as to be subjects of thankful observation to all who visited her, she underwent several severe conflicts. The last in particular, which took place on the day preceding her death, seemed a final effort of the enemy to shake her confidence in Christ, and make her doubtful of her interest in his redemption; but strength given from on high enabled her to vanquish it, and it terminated as she fervently exclaimed, “O death, where is thy sting! O 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 me the victory, through my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." On being asked by a kind and faithful friend, "Are you not sorry to leave us, Jeanie?" "Oh yes,” she said, "but I have committed you and my husband to the Lord, and am wearying to get home." "You seem a little easier," said her friend, "Not easier in my body, but I am now quite at ease in mind." The next day her restlessness was distressing, and she said to her husband, "Now you must prepare yourself, for this is my last night." She continued every five minutes inquiring what hour it was, saying, "Oh that it were twelve!" When asked why she wished for twelve, she said, "That is not my hour; three o'clock is my hour;" and this she three times repeated. About twelve, the severity of her struggle ceased, and nature sunk into the calm of exhaustion, but she retained complete possession of her senses. Her last words were in reply to her afflicted husband's inquiry if she could still look to Jesus. "Oh yes! what should I do without Christ ?" and with a faltering tongue, she said "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls." "Whosoever cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out," and I have many more than these, but am not able to repeat them Without a groan, she fell asleep in Jesus at a quarter before three. Her longings at length are satisfied, she has reached the end of her pilgrimage, and the weary spirit is at rest. And those whose remaining days are saddened by her loss, can by faith rejoice in her unutterable joy in her Father's kingdom; for they have learned the unchangeable truth of that promise, "He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son." SONNET. BY JOSIAH CONDER, ESQ. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, at the last trump. 1 Cor. xv. 51. THE slumbering dust of Christ's elect shall wake, Of doom upon the astonished earth shall break. Some distant province seeks, the city's flower N |