promise verified, "As thy day, thy strength shall be." Hence she was enabled to bear her trials with much fortitude and resignation to the Divine will.

The subject of this memoir prayed and laboured for the salvation of her relatives-but not for theirs only: she was a number of years actively employed as a Sunday School Teacher, and also as a Distributor of Tracts. In these exercises, as well as in visiting the abodes of affliction and misery, she took great delight, from the hope that thereby she might be instrumental in promoting the glory of God and the best interests of her fellow-creatures Nor was she without pleasing evidence of positive good of the very highest order, resulting from her unostentatious exertions. As a distributor of Tracts, she had the high satisfaction of seeing the Sabbath-breaker and the profane, by whom she and her tracts were at first treated in a very contemptuous manner, become the conscientious observer of that sacred day of rest, constant in attendance on the public worship of God, grateful for the attention she had bestowed on him, and so far as human observation could ascertain, the sincere and humble follower of the Lord Jesus Christ.

On the 17th of May, 1826, after an uninterrupted acquaintance of more than nine years duration, she was united in marriage, with him who now mourns her loss, and after paying a parting visit to her friends in the country, and otherwise preparing for the voyage, she left London for Deal on the 19th of June, and on the following day, embarked on board the Florentia for India ; and on the 22nd of October, she arrived in Calcutta, in a better state of health than when she left England.

Passing by the intermediate events of her life, we shall now contemplate her at its close, in the prospect of death, and near approach to the eternal world.

For the last year and a half, or two years, her health considerably declined, and a severe domestic affliction, inducing necessarily great fatigue, added to the causes of apprehension regarding her. For several months previ ous to her confinement, she had an impression that she should not survive that event; and repeatedly expressed herself to that effect in conversation: latterly her mind became more cheerful and composed, though not without a foreboding of the kind just mentioned. On Friday the 24th of May, she was made the living and joyful mother of her fourth child. This was to her an unexpected mercy, and filled with a sense of gratitude, she shortly after requested the writer to unite in an offering of praise and thanksgiving for the benefit bestowed. This apparent deliverance from what she had forbod ed seemed to fill her with surprise at the goodness of the Lord; hence immediately after uniting in the sacred acts of praise and prayer, she remarked to a kind friend who attended her, how peculiarly suited to her case was the expression in the psalm which had been read, "Who redeemeth thy life from destruction." For some days she appeared to be doing well, and sanguine hopes were entertained of her speedy restoration; but towards the end of the next week she complained of great debility, and expressed it as her conviction, that instead of regaining, she was really losing strength. This circumstance recalled her former forebodings to mind, and caused her once or twice to intimate that she might not recover.

In reply to inquiries as to the state of her mind, she complained of much darkness, said "she felt herself a great sinner, and feared she had never truly loved Christ:" when reminded of his gracious invitations and faithfulness, she replied, "Yes, I know he is faithful, and will cast out none that come to him, but I fear I never did come to him; my desire is to do so, and I do hope he will yet accept me; but I feel myself so unworthy, I have been such an unprofitable servant.' She was much in prayer, that the Lord would again reveal himself unto her soul, and enable her to lay hold on the hope of the

Gospel. Her desires towards Christ were ardent and strong; she longed to feel his love, and to behold his face in righteousness. As to the question of life or death she seemed perfectly resigned to the will of God; her anxious prayer was, that he would give her a token for good, ere he removed her out of the world, if such was his pleasure; and enable her to live more entirely to his glory, should he be pleased to raise her up again.

On Saturday, June 8th, she seemed more exhausted than usual, so as to excite considerable anxiety for the event; and she still complained that her mind was dark, and that she could not satisfactorily see her interest in Christ, though her hope was in him alone. She was thirsting for the waters of life, and cleaving to the cross as her only refuge; but she had not that sense of pardon and acceptance with God, she had often experienced through believing; nor that peace and joy which the presence of Christ and the witness of the Spirit impart to the soul. In the course of the day several hymns were read to her, into the import of which she entered with much feeling, particularly the 313th of Dr. Rippon's Selection, dwelling with peculiar emphasis on the lines with which most of the verses close.

"Turn and look upon me, Lord, And break my heart of stone."

While the last verse completely melted her.

"Look, as when thy pitying eye
Was closed that we might live;
'Father, (at the point to die
My Saviour gasp'd,) forgive!'

Surely with that dying word,

He turns, and looks, and cries," "Tis done!'
O my loving, bleeding Lord,

This breaks my heart of stone."

The next day she was apparently much better than she had been at all, and sanguine but delusive hopes were entertained of her recovery. As night approached, all these pleasing expectations vanished; she became worse, and spent a restless night. The following morning she seemed somewhat better, and her mind was in a more comfortable state. A large portion of the past sleepless night had been spent in earnest prayer, and she was now enabled in some measure to lay hold on the promises of the word of God. During the day she suffered much from cold perspiration, and several times inquired to what it was owing, and what it could mean, evidently regarding it herself as the precursor of death.

A kind friend who called to see her on the evening of this day, has furnished me with the following observations relative to the state of her mind. "You are aware that I was with her but a very short time, (a circumstance I most deeply regret ;) and when we were alone, I remarked that it is a great comfort to think that all our afflictions are sent by a gracious Father.' 'Yes,' she replied, and Christ'—I could not catch the rest, she spoke so very feebly. He knows our frame," I observed; he is touched with a feeling of our infirmities, and he will not afflict us more than he will enable us to bear.'-'Yes,' she added, He knows our frame; he knows what temptations we are exposed to, and I trust I am willing to leave all in his hands, and to live or die-then her voice became so faint that I could not distinctly hear the words, but I could perceive she was in a sweetly resigned and heavenly frame of mind. I shall never forget the affectionate earnestness with which she said to me, as I was about. leaving the room, My very dear Mrs. Sykes, pray for me,-remember me in your prayers."-I was much affected, and remarked that she had an allprevailing intercessor, and one that ever lives to intercede for his people; she said Yes,' with peculiar emphasis, and seemed rejoicing in the delightful

thought. I then took my leave, but ah! little did I think it would be a last farewell.”—

About 11 she fell asleep, and slept till 1, after which she slept no more until she fell asleep in Jesus the next evening. Her waking hours were however occupied in communion with God. She wrestled with him in prayer, and he graciously heard the voice of her supplication, and appeared to dispel the darkness which had so long overcast her mind. A sweet peace now filled her soul, and she could testify of the faithfulness and loving kindness of the Lord. On approaching her, a delightful and holy composure was observable in her countenance, and apparent in every word she uttered. On asking how she felt, she replied, "Comfortable, I do hope the Lord will be gracious to me. I have been earnestly praying that he would accept me in the Beloved, and I trust he has heard me: I can say, 'He loved me, and gave himself for me.' As. to bodily health she seemed much better than on the preceding day, and a medical friend, who called in, spoke of her being taken on the river; in allusion to which she shortly after observ. ed to a friend," Dr. C. spoke about my being removed on the river, but ah! I think I shall be removed but once more."-Every thing went on favoura bly until about past 10 o'clock, when a sudden and fatal change took place. Up to this moment the writer had hoped, and almost believed she would recover; it was now apparent that without a speedy change, which there was no reason to expect, this would be impossible, and death must ensue ; nothing therefore remained but to inform her of her situation, ascertain more fully the state of her mind, administer the consolations of religion, and wait the event. This I at once resolved to do, and taking my station beside her, inquired how she felt in her mind: she replied, " Comfortable."" Do you feel," I inquired, "that you can and do trust fully and entirely in Christ ?" She answered, “Yes, I do trust in him." "Do you experience his love, and feel that you love Him?" With peculiar emotions she replied, "Yes, I do love him." Do you feel any desire to depart to be with Christ? do you desire to see Him face to face, to be near and enjoy Him?" With much feeling she replied, "I do desire His presence, I do wish to be near Him." Her countenance brightened during this conversation, and was a pleasing index of the peace and joy she then experienced. I then asked, "Could you feel any satisfaction in the thought of now going to be with the Lord, should it be his pleasure now to call you to himself?" "Why," she replied, "I hope I should be reconciled to his will, should he be pleased now to take me ; but," said she, looking earnestly at me," do you think my death so near, that I shall not recover? do you think I shall now die? Tell me, do tell me." I replied, "I do think that is your happiness; the Lord whom you love is, I think, about to take you to himself." "Well," she observed, "if that be the case, I must be prepared;" and raising her eyes towards heaven, she presented a most fervent and appropriate prayer, and in the exercise of a living faith, committed herself to God. Among the expressions she used, were the following: "If it be thy will, O thou blessed God, now to take me to thyself, thy will be done. Prepare me-wash me in the blood of Christ,-clothe me in his righteousness, and accept me in the Beloved. I have no other hope, no other trust." Then turning to me, she inquired, “But what makes you think I shall die? why do you think I shall not recover? what change do you see in me, that makes you think so? I perceive none in myself." Not caring to say what change had taken place, I merely replied, "The Lord can, I know, raise you up again if he see fit, but I think he is about to do better by you.' "Well," she observed, "if it be so, His will be done." She subsequently referred to the peculiar sensations she had experienced on the preceding Monday week, and said, "From that time I gave up all hopes of recovery."

During the foregoing conversation, there was not the least symptom of fear or alarm; her mind was tranquil, and she spoke with the utmost composure, though with much feeling. There was, as indeed there had been through the whole period of her illness, a seriousness which indicated a vivid perception of the nature of her situation; but there were also, the "peace that passeth all understanding," arising from a sense of pardon and acceptance, a holy resignation to the will of God concerning her, and a cheering expectation of eternal glory. She had been desirous of living a while longer on earth, and so long as those about her thought she would recover, she was willing to admit the idea that she might, though her impressions were that she should not. Now she was willing to depart, and from the moment she was informed her death was probably near, she let go the slight remaining hold she had on earth, and fixed it firm on heaven. The concerns of that world towards which she was fast hastening, and for which divine grace had so evidently prepared her, now fully, and delightfully, and almost exclusively, occupied her thoughts.

On my retiring for a few minutes, a kind friend presented one of the children for her to kiss; but unable to bear the sight, she turned her head and wept, at the same time praying most fervently that the "Lord would have mercy on all her children, keep them from the evil of the world, and make them plants of his own right hand planting in the house of the Lord." On my return I read at her request, several portions of scripture and a few hymns, as "Guide me, O thou great Jehovah;" "The everlasting song," &c. in Dr. Rippon's Selection; prayer was then offered on her behalf. Into these exercises she entered with great feeling, repeating and dwelling with holy delight on the words of promise, and drawing from them consolation and support for which, and the other mercies she enjoyed, she expressed the liveliest gratitude. She was now desired to compose herself to sleep, and she tried to do so, but slept not; whenever I approached her, though her eyes were closed, I observed her lips moving, and on going sufficiently near, I invariably found her engaged in holy exercises, as prayer, praise, contemplation on heavenly objects, or repeating hymns or texts of Scripture. Of the latter, passages like the following were often in her lips; "accepted in the Beloved ;who hath loved us and washed us from our sins in his blood;-who loved me and gave himself for me." Of the former, the following beautiful verses occur to mind:

"I'll speak the honours of thy name

With my last labouring breath;
And dying, clasp thee in my arms-
The antidote of death."

"But when this lisping, stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave,

Then in a nobler, sweeter song,

I'll sing thy power to save.'

While in health she highly prized and diligently improved the public means of grace, and now that she lay on her dying pillow repeatedly referred to them with feelings indicative of the high value she put upon them, and in a very solemn manner said, "Tell them that neglect_the_means of grace that they will repent of it."

About part 3 P. M. her kind medical attendant called in, but her case was now beyond the reach of the healing art; at this he expressed his regret, but seemed deeply interested in the happy state of her mind. The tide of life was fast ebbing; but, though occasionally incoherent and wandering, she was fully conscious of her situation, and filled with devotional feelings: though greatly exhausted she continued to speak of divine things; and when most incoherent, it was easy to perceive that these things engrossed her attention,

and imparted pleasures of the most refined and elevated character. He in whom she had believed did not fail her in the trying hour. His love she felt, and when she could scarcely articulate she spoke of his preciousness, saying, "It is better to have Christ in the heart, than to have all the luxuries in the world." The perfect consciousness she displayed as to her situation on the verge of eternity; her resignation to the divine will, and triumph over the fear of death; the composure and satisfaction with which she contemplated the realities of the eternal world, and realized the prospect of entering into the immediate presence of her God and Saviour, were obvious to every one, and deeply interesting, prompting the prayer, "Let me die the death of the righteous." She continued more or less sensible until a short time before her death, at 29 minutes past 6 o'clock, when in the gentlest manner possible, she breathed her soul into the hands of her Redeemer. The next morning her remains were conveyed to the Sulkea burial-ground, and there deposited to await the resurrection of the just.

Thus died this friend of Jesus at the early age of 31, wanting one week; she had been nearly 15 years under a consistent profession of religion, and for 16 or 17 years had experienced its sanctifying and cheering influence on her heart. She left four children to mourn her loss, but an all-wise though mysterious Providence has already called the youngest to a better world, there to join the glorified spirit of her parent in a song of praise unto him that loved them, and redeemed them by his blood.

Reflections on the foregoing narrative.

1. Does not this brief memoir exhibit in a strong light the power and worth of real religion, especially in the near prospect of death and the eternal world? It was religion, be it remembered, which prepared the departed for that solemn scene. It was religion which so wonderfully supported her mind in the immediate prospect of eternity. It was religion that deprived death of all its terrors, and transformed that dread messenger into an angel of lightand made her "more than conqueror through the blood of the Lamb." But, 2. Does not the experience of the departed suggest to every one that hears this relation of it, the desirableness of possessing "like precious faith ;"—of being vitally united to the Lord Jesus Christ, interested in his atoning sacrifice, and dying (for all must die) as she died, supported by the same hopes and cheered by the same prospects? And if these things are felt to be desirable, ought they not to be sought with an earnestness proportioned to their worth and importance? For unless they be sought with a fixed determination that we will obtain them, or die in the attempt, it is prepos terous to expect they will ever be enjoyed. Shall we be careful, yea anxious for the support of the body, the preservation or restoration of health, and protection from harm, and neglect our souls? be all alive to the trifles of time, and negligent of the momentous concerns of eternity? Let each one ask himself, that as he must die, how he would like to die, when the time comes? or how he is likely to die should death find him in his present state? In other words, let him ask, "Am I prepared to die? are my sins forgiven? is my soul renewed, and am I habitually living a life of faith on the Son of God, and of holy obedience to his revealed will? If, on examination, he discover reason to believe himself at present unprepared for the solemn scenes before him, would it not be politic at once to apply to God in Christ, to give him his holy Spirit to produce the meetness required? can it be deemed wise or safe, especially at a time like the present, when sickness and mortality prevail around, and the present hour may be his last, to delay such application? What if the summons come, and put a period to his probationary term ere this great work is done? He must then lie down in sorrow with the bitter reflection, "Procrastination has been my ruin."

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