At the age of fifteen, however, her heart was increasingly impressed with her lost state as a sinner before God, and her absolute need of a Saviour. From this time for two or three years her health was so bad that her friends often despaired of her life. To this period, she used to tell her children, she could look back as the happiest of her life, for it was a season of peculiar mercy. In her afflictions she learned the character of God as a tender Father, and the suitableness and preciousness of the Saviour. Soon after her recovery she felt it to be her duty to make a public profession of religion by Christian baptism. The ordinance was administered by the Rev. Mr. Marshman of Westbury Leigh in Wiltshire, to which neighbourhood she had recently been removed. At the age of seventeen she became acquainted with the late Dr. Marshman (who was however no relation, so far as we can ascertain, to the Mr. Marshman mentioned above), with whom in a wise providence she was appointed to share the labours and enjoyments of a long and useful life. Soon after their marriage they removed to Bristol, where they remained for some years, and where a sphere of usefulness appeared to be pointed out, and where the cup of domestic bliss was so full that it was not without many misgivings that Mrs. Marshman was brought to contemplate the prospect of a change, and to enter into the spirit of her beloved partner, which required them to break up every association at home. They, however, finally determined to leave all for Christ's sake, and to spend and be spent in his service among the heathen. With the circumstances of their leaving England and their providential guidance to this settlement, the protection afforded them by the Danish Governor, and their unparalleled labours, you are familiar: I therefore for the sake of time pass on to the events of the few months preceding her removal. This, as you are aware, has been effected by a gentle and gradual process. It is true, she may have rallied at intervals; her naturally vigorous constitution may have risen superior to disease and infirmities; but we, who observed her closely, realized in these fluctuations her approaching separation. How much mercy is apparent in God's gracious dealings with his children-to us who remain as well as toward the sufferer! How beautifully did religion unfold itself in the experience of her last hours! Occasionally she seemed to suffer acutely; but how exemplary was her patience under it! In hours of deepest affliction her hope was firm and unwavering. Her religion was very far from enthusiasm: hers was a settled and well-grounded hope. She "knew in whom," and in what, she believed. It was her prayerful wish to enjoy the comforts and power of religion. She realized this, but it was serene, not ecstatic enjoyment. Her last hours were undisturbed and calm. Frequently she ejaculated those words of Watts: "Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone! Let my religious hours alone; Fain would my eyes my Saviour see: I wait a visit, Lord, from thee. Hail, great Immanuel, all divine, In thee thy Father's glories shine; Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest one, That eyes have seen, or angels known." She naturally possessed great constitutional energy and capacity. Her temper was ardent and enterprising, and her attachments powerful. This was sweetly blended with deep religious feeling, moral worth, humility, unfeigned faith, and a zeal which no difficulties, no privations, could quench or overcome. What had she not to encounter and endure in the early years of the mission! Her failings whatever they may have been-and she made no pretensions to exemption from failings-were more fully and more readily acknowledged by herself than by any one I have heard speak of her: others who have known her longer, but not more intimately than myself, may be able to specify them. Whatever I have heard imputed to her, may be summed up in one sentence and we must remember the whole of the illustrious dead, whose names are inscribed on that mural tablet, are equally implicated in the charge, viz.-too strong an attachment to the work they had at heart in India -an all-absorbing and unconquerable love to Serampore. They have carried it with them to the grave: may it cleave to their memories for ever! Their lives, their time, their talents, their earnings, their influence were given to its accomplishment, the best proof of their sincerity, as was touchingly referred to by Mr. Leslie, while standing on the margin of their graves: -"Here they gave their lives, and here are their tombs." confidence in the Saviour. His finished work and righteousness was her only hope, her only plea. "His precious person, his precious atonement, his precious intercession," were terms frequently on her lips: these refer to truths which are the life, power, and happiness of the Christian on earth, and which will form the theme of the Christian's exultation in heaven. But I must close this hasty sketch by dwelling for a moment or two on her last hours, and dying experience of a Saviour's love. On Tuesday, March 2nd, I received a note from Mr. Marshman, informing me that a sudden change had taken place, with every appearance of danger. I went immediately to the house, and found her somewhat revived, but extremely weak. Her countenance was serene, and though her voice was feeble, her articulation and mental powers were unimpaired. She addressed me in her accustomed manner, and said she would not be long in this world. After speaking to me for a little while, Mr. Marshman and her medical attendant came into the room. I said to Mrs. Voigt I would withdraw silently and return in about an hour. I did so. On my return Mrs. Marshman said, Why did you go away this afternoon? I explained the reason. She said, Well One feature in our dear friend's character must not be omitted: in fact it characterized the whole period from her illness to her departure-I mean the spirit of prayer. Till very recently, how regularly did she attend our services, especially our Thursday morning meeting for prayer-at half-past seven--and proceeded to speak of her reo'clock! This she did after she had entered her 80th year. And when unable to do so, which was about December last, how anxiously did she inquire about the services, and after the welfare of individuals of our circle. With her of late it was literally "prayer without ceasing," and in every thing "thankfulness and praise." The cause of such serene and holy solace, with the perfect apprehension of approaching dissolution-for she frequently dwelt on her departure, that it was at handarose from her entire and unreserved moval, and of her trust in the Redeemer: she thought a few hours before, the world and all its scenes would have closed upon her. She recurred to her early experience, and "the great searchings of heart" which preceded her consecration to God. At her request I read the forty-second Psalm: she ejaculated the words I read in the language of prayer. After commending her to God I left her, not knowing whether I should see her again. It was on this occasion that she fervently prayed for her children, for the church and congre gation meeting here, for her neighbours,, would prove that even in this land and European and native-for the young on the banks of this idolatrous river, people, minister, schools-emphatically which to men in his day was all but and distinctly. Dear friends, shall those prayers be lost-shall they have no influence-shall they rise in judgment against you? The following morning Mrs. Denham called she appeared a little better. The substance of the conversation I have given already. She dwelt particularly on her mother's kind instructions and death. About 5 P. M. I called. On entering the room she appeared to be in deep thought; her countenance bore indications of peaceful repose. I stood for a moment or two looking at her. When she observed me, she extended her hand and pointed to a chair by her bed. A few words were interchanged; and she repeated a verse of a hymn which, I regret to say, I do not remember. She paused, and in a firm and audible tone uttered several stanzas appropriate to her present state and expectations. She ceased, and I inquired, Whose verses are those?" Mrs. Voigt said, Olney, mamma ?" as she was particularly attached to Cowper's hymns. "No, I committed them to memory before I was eighteen years of age: it was a time of mercy to me." She again referred to this favoured period, and dwelt upon the exercises of her mind. "It was then," said she, "that Bunyan's Pilgrim was made so useful to me." Mrs. Voigt having for a moment left the room, she now re-entered, and Mrs. Marshman said, "Where is Bunyan's Pilgrim?" Mrs. Voigt took it down and placed it in my hand. Mrs. Marshman looked at the book and said, "How wonderful that that book should have been made so useful!" I replied, "A native Christian had recently told me his heart leaped for joy whenever he read it; adding, had Bunyan, when in gaol, known how extensively useful it fable-such a thought would have cheered him in his gloomy prison." "Would have cheered him?" she rejoined, fixing her eyes upon me, "it did cheer him. But I am near the river he describes. Oh that I may be landed safely!" "But there are no fears, mamma?" "No child, no fears. He has said, Fear not, I am with thee; be not dismayed, I am thy God; I will strengthen thee, I will help thee. He is able to save to the uttermost every one who cometh unto God by him; whosoever cometh he will in no wise cast out." Looking at me, she said, "Should you say anything to the people about me, after my removal, speak from those words which have been made so precious to me: 'He sent from above, he took me and drew me out of many waters:' but read where Christian passes the river." I did so. That which seemed to affect her most was the part where Christian begins to sink and Hopeful encourages him. To describe to you the exquisite feelings I experienced while reading to her, when her own feet were just dipped within the waters of the river is utterly impossible. We were talking just as Bunyan describes Christian and Hopeful to have talked. Though a dream, it was no longer a similitude: the scene, the circumstances were real, were all but identical. As I read I paused, for she occasionally spoke on the circumstances recorded. When I came to the words, "and after that they shut the gates; which when I had seen, I wished myself among them," she fervently ejaculated the words. I looked at her, and inwardly said, "May I die the death of the righteous: may my last end be like hers!" At her wish we turned to Christian's removal and the remaining characters. That of Standfast and his last words terrors. In the language of David it is appeared to interest her greatly. "This indeed a 66 shadow." Death for her river hath been a terror to many." had no sting-over her the grave claims When I came to the words, "Now while no victory. The thread of life was he was thus in his discourse his counte- broken and we knew it not. The spirit nance changed; his strong man bowed had winged its flight; the separation under him ;" after he had said, "Take was painless, stingless-without a groan! me for I come unto thee." Just We looked-her head rested on her here her death-like countenance, daughter's bosom, but her spirit stood yet so serene, greatly affected us. spotless before the throne of God! could read no more. I knelt down and prayed that her feet like his might stand fast in that dread hour. I This was my last conversation. I saw her once again but the interview was brief. Her time was at hand. To her and kindred spirits death has no "Call not the mourners when the Christian dies, THE HAPPY MOURNERS. BY THE REV. J. J. DAVIES. "Blessed are they that mourn." How true it is that God judgeth not | affliction was the school in which it as man judgeth! When our friends was most apt to thrive; and yet in prosper, when their comforts increase, every age of the world men have when their sources of enjoyment mul- coveted prosperity more than righteoustiply, we present our gratulations, we ness, and have dreaded affliction more surround them with smiles, we load than sin. The wisest of men, speaking them with benedictions, and give utter- under the influence of inspiration, has ance to varied feelings of delight and said, "it is better to go to the house of pleasure. But Jesus, who came into mourning than to the house of feasting." the world to enlighten and to save And how frequently have you found this mankind, and who ever taught the way to be true. In scenes of amusement of God in truth, when he appeared and pleasure you have often experienced surrounded by the multitudes who a momentary gratification, but you have flocked to hear him as the great Prophet derived from them no permanent or real whom God had raised up amongst his good: indeed, you have retired from people, said, "Blessed are they that them with a mind less pure, and a heart mourn." more sad. But in the house of mourning you have sometimes been deeply impressed with the vanity of the world, with the utter insufficiency of all earthly things to afford solid satisfaction and lasting enjoyment; your heart has been rendered more tender, and The dictates of reason and the decisions of religion have alike condemned, for the most part, the habits and the pursuits of men. Some of the wisest of the heathen observed that prosperity often proved the snare of virtue, while your mind more devout; and as you | natural that we should mourn. have withdrawn from the scene of sorrow you have said, "it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting." He It was not in ignorance of the real nature of sorrow that our Lord uttered the words now under our consideration. He knew what it was to mourn. was pre-eminently the man of sorrows. He was above all others acquainted with grief. He challenges the attention of the world, saying, "Is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow?" Seldom did his friends who were most constantly with him see the smile of joy play on his benignant countenance; but they frequently heard from him the sigh of sorrow, and they often saw his eye filled with the big and bitter tear. And yet, with tears in his own eyes does he say, "Blessed are ye that weep now." While drinking himself the of sorrow, he presents to others the cup of consolation, saying, “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." cup What is the mourning of which the Redeemer speaks in this passage? what are the tears which Jesus wipes away? who are the mourners whom he comforts? It is evident that our Lord does not speak here of every kind of mourning. There are mourners who have no joys and no hopes; of whom it cannot be said that they are blessed, and to whom it cannot be promised that they shall be comforted. Alas! there are who mourn and murmur; who repine and die; but who will not come to Christ that they may have life and peace. There is much mourning which is simply natural ; there is nothing spiritual in it. It has no reference whatever to sin, to the soul, or to God. When in adversity, or sickness, when nearing the waters of dissolution, or when watching a dying friend, it is In itself this sorrow is neither good nor. evil; it is not necessarily sinful, neither does it necessarily partake of a religious character; it is often found unconnected. with any spiritual emotion, and unproductive of any fruit of righteousness. And there is a sorrow which is as sinful and destructive as it is deep and distressing, a sorrow which is as fatal in its consequences as it is painful in itself; it is "the sorrow of the world which worketh death." The sorrow of some men is sinful in its source. Some mourn because they cannot accomplish a sinful purpose. Thus "Ahab came to his house heavy and displeased because of the word which Naboth the Jezreelite had spoken unto him; for he had said, I will not give thee the inheritance of my fathers: and he laid him down upon, his bed, and turned away his face, and would eat no bread." Some mourn in a spirit of vexation, because they have been induced or compelled to do right. So Pharaoh was grieved because he had. let the children of Israel go; and he and his servants said, "Why have we done this, that we have let Israel go from serving us?" The sorrow of others is alike sinful and fatal in its consequences. Thus Ahithophel when he “ saw that his counsel was not taken, gat him home to his house, and put his household in order, and hanged himself.” But it is time that we inquire more. particularly what is the mourning which our Lord pronounces happy?—who are the mourners to whom he promises that they shall be comforted? The mourning of which our Lord speaks is very closely connected with the spiritual poverty mentioned in the preceding verse; our views of the one will necessarily regulate our views of the other; and if we have judged rightly of the poor in spirit to whom is promised the kingdom of heaven, we cannot fail to form a correct judgment of the mourners who |