to cultivate personal piety. She daily studied with care the Holy Scriptures, and devoted a part of her time to religious meditation. A portion of every day, commonly in the early part of it, she spent in secret prayer. It was on the altar of secret devotion, that she kindled that pure flame, which was generally seen burning so brightly, when she was engaged in the active duties of life. She frequently examined herself, not merely for the purpose of ascertaining whether she might hope that she was a child of God, but also, whether she had made any progress in the divine life. At the close of every day, her conduct, and the temper of heart she had maintained, were reviewed; the evening preceding the Sabbath was especially devoted to this important duty. If at any time she found she had declined in her Christian course, or any trial was apprehended, or any duty of peculiar difficulty to be performed, she observed a season of private fasting and prayer. She loved the sanctuary and its solemn services, and was careful to have her mind in a devotional frame while attending upon them, reflecting as she entered, and cherishing the impression while she remained within the sacred edifice, that she might never enter it again. She viewed attendance upon the holy communion as a most important and solemn service, and was always careful to prepare herself for it, by self-examination, reflection, and prayer. She endeavoured to trace, in every event, the hand of God, and to derive from every occurrence some spiritual instruction.

Her religion, however, was not confined to her closet, and to the sanctuary. She endeavoured to carry it with her into all the business and circumstances of life. She did not, like some professed believers in the doctrines of grace, feel, that because she was to be saved by the merits of Christ alone, there was no necessity of being careful to maintain good works. So far from finding

this to be the influence of those doctrines, which she firmly believed and ardently loved, she has left it in testimony as the result of her experience, that "when her hope of acceptance solely on the ground of the merits of Christ was the strongest, she felt most unquenchable desires to serve him with her heart, her whole heart." To glorify God and do good to men was her habitual aim. The duties of her family she endeavoured to discharge with fidelity, from a regard to the will of Jehovah, who, by placing her in that relation, had required them at her hands. The intercourse of friendship she sought to make of a profitable character, remembering that for our words, as well as for our actions, we must give account at the judgment-seat of Christ. She was ever ready to visit and comfort the afflicted, to instruct the ignorant, to warn the careless, to entreat the impenitent to be reconciled to God. She prayed much, and delighted to employ her counsels and efforts, for the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom. In the work of benevolence she has left her sex a noble example. Her exertions in this cause, are known to have been great, and extended to a variety of objects, and productive of a large amount of good; yet they never produced in her any neglect of domestic duties, or any transgression of the bounds of strict propriety. Daughters of Zion, let it be your ambition to follow in the glorious path she trod. Believers in Christ, make your religion your governing principle, the business of your lives; and, when your career on earth is about to terminate, you may say, with her, "My Father hath done all things well, he hath made all things to work together for my good."

*Journal, 1820, June 9.

POETRY.

WRITTEN AFTER READING BUCHANAN'S CHRISTIAN

RESEARCHES, IN 1813.

When I on fancy's pinion ride,
Far o'er the ocean's rolling tide,

To India's burning shore,

Where the chain'd soul in thraldom sleeps,
And Satan his dark empire keeps,

My eye a pitying torrent weeps

Of grief unfelt before.

There, whelm'd in superstition's night,
Unknown the Gospel's cheering light,
The fetter'd spirit lies;

Left to dim Nature's twinkling ray,
Which can but feeble light convey,
It sinks, to doubt and sin a prey,
Nor longs, nor seeks, to rise.

Yet reason there, a Sovereign owns,
But, stupid, bows to stocks and stones;
(A path she's ever trode.)
Reason reduc'd, can never climb
To truths so glorious, so divine,
As in the sacred Gospel shine,
Without the aid of God.

And say, oh Christian! can you view
The wretched Heathen's guilt and woe,

Nor drop one pitying tear?

Think-that, though sunk in sin and shame,
On you the Indian has a claim;

He bears a brother's sacred name:

Behold him! comfort, cheer,

Yes, let the Gospel's gladd'ning voice
His realm illume, reform, rejoice.
Go, tell him Jesus reigns:

Bid him forsake his impious rites;
Tell him that GOD his love invites
Tell him in MERCY He delights,

And waits to break his chains.

And think, how high your joy will rise,
When, thron'd in bliss above the skies,
You meet the ransom'd throng,
And see, with song of holiest fire,
The Indian foremost in the choir !
How will it raise your rapture high'r,
And swell your joyous song?

THE SABBATH.

WRITTEN IN 1814.

Another holy day of rest returns ;

The curtain gently falls, and sober eve
Ushers, with modest step, the Sabbath in.*
Sweet day! I bid the welcome. Now, from noise,
And all the jarring tumults of the world,
My wearied soul retires, and rests herself;
And seeks, in contemplation, heavenly food
To renovate the pow'rs which six days' toil
Has made obtuse and languid. Glad I call
My roving spirit homeward, and refresh,
In holy intercourse with heaven, its dull
And scatter'd faculties. How far the world
And all its empty forms of bliss retire ;
I hear its noisy clamour from afar,
And feel compassion's unavailing tear
Wrung from my heart at thought of its illusions.
'Tis sweet to lay aside the spirit's shackles,
And, for a while, rise upward in the view
Of God and his perfections. Here is room

For thought to stretch and widen, till the theme,
Immense, and still enlarging as pursu❜d,

O'erwhelms the soul, and makes it pant for heav'n.

How awful bright each rival glory shines

Of different attributes, harmonious !

Here I behold meek Mercy's angel form.
Here Justice lifts her awful head, and holds,
With equal hand, her everlasting scales;
Points to the law of love which angels own,

*It was the habit of the writer, to commence the appropriate duties of the Sabbath, at early candle-lighting on Saturday evening.

Owning, obey, and in obeying, find

Their life, their blessedness, their heaven; and swears
That man transgressing it must die, or blot
The eternal page of Truth immutable.

Now bursts, as day's refulgent orb appears

To the strain'd eye which long has watch'd the dawn,
Resplendent, passing admiration, on the view,
The mighty plan which heav'n's eternal King
Concerted with his equal Son, ere earth
Was form'd, or man was made, or lost,

To snatch a sinking world from righteous ruin,
Yet vindicate the law which seal'd its doom.
A plan omnipotent, whose vast design

Draws in its wond'rous compass, all which man
Can need, though lost, and all which God requires ;
And, sweetly blending, harmonizing all,
O'erpowers, and mingles in its mighty rays
The congregated glories of the whole.

Dear day of rest and meditation sweet!

Ne'er may'st thou find my heart so treach'rous grown,
As to prefer the worlding's day to thee;
But may each weekly visit find my soul
More raised above earth's gilded vanities,
Till the last Sabbath of the waiting saint,

The endless rest which Christ has promis'd, come !

WRITTEN IN MAY 1820, AFTER THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND.

Smile, Nature smile; the tearful eye

Of WIDOWHOOD thou need'st not wear :

Winter, thy sullen foe's gone by;

Fresh bound thy streams, soft glows thine air.

Weep'st thou, to lift thy youthful brow

And smile, while aches this bleeding heart?
Oh, I have lov'd, and love thee now,
Chang'd Nature as to me thou art.

Yes thou may'st smile, and not, for me,
Enshroud thy virgin charms in gloom,
And veil thy face in sympathy

With shade and sadness of the tomb.

There was, and low that form is laid,
And still that bosom's conscious glow,

Published in the Boston Recorder of June, 10, 1820.