She lost, at a very early age, her judicious and pious mother by the stroke of death. The sad event made a great impression upon her tender mind, and, though not more than 14 years of age, she gave vent to the sorrow that filled her young heart in the following lines which she penned on the occasion:

Ah! once I had a mother dear,
To wipe away the falling tear;
Her smile would soon afford relief,
And check the unrestrained grief.
"Twas by her care that I was led,
In paths of holiness to tread :
She taught my infant tongue to sing
The praises of my heavenly King.
But now her happy spirit's fled,
And she is numbered with the dead,
Her body in the ground does lie,
And darkness veils her once bright eye.
Angels have borne her soul away
To live in never-ending day;
Yes, now she reigns in heaven above,
Where all is peace, and joy, and love.
Yes, there she joins the happy throng,
And sings the sweet enchanting song;
For now her heavenly voice is clear,
She breathes a purer atmosphere.
Her labours are for ever done,
For she the victory hath won;
Help me, O Father, by thy grace,
Her footsteps to the skies to trace,
That I with her in bliss may soar,
And ne'er from her be parted more.

A little more than a year after her loss she joined the church. Only a day before her death, she referred to that period of her life. As she lay on the sofa, conscious that a few hours would terminate her mortal existence, with a feeble voice she uttered, as near as I can recollect, the following words: "I joined the church with three or four more of my companions during the time Mr. Moses Miles was in Batley. He would let us girls have no rest about going to class. I remember about that time I went to Dewsbury, to hear Mr. Cooke, who was preaching a special sermon, and on my return I said to the rest, I would go to Abraham Blakeley's class. The others consented. I went; but for some months I was very unhappy. I was tempted to think I had committed the unpardonable sin. I spent hours, night after night, on my knees, in my bed-room. I remember one night, after I had spent more than half the night in tears and prayers, I was in such a state of excitement, that I seized my sister, who was asleep in bed, and cried, 'I shall be lost, I shall be

lost.' I continued so for a few days. One evening I recollect sitting in the door-way, between nine and ten o'clock, waiting for father and John Fox to return from Dewsbury. The sky was clear and calm. As I sat looking up I saw Jesus on the cross, and as I gazed the words occurred to me, 'Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.' Oh, I was made happy in a moment; my soul was filled with joy. I did rejoice-I did rejoice." Exhausted with the effort required to narrate the above, she remained for awhile silent. I said, "My dear, all this is new to me." "Yes," she replied, "I could never refer to it publicly nor privately. I have much more to say, but it must remain unsaid for ever." The leader referred to, whose class she joined, writes the following letter, which harmonizes with her own statements:"The Rev. D. Round.

"My dear Sir,

Batley, Sept. 30, 1858. I have known your dear wife from a child. About twenty years ago it was my happiness to join the church: at that time I became very intimate with her parents, they being members of the same society; and, as I was often in the habit of calling at their house, it was often a pleasure to me to witness the docility of her disposition, a docility which, viewed in connection with the pious example of her own parents, led me to anticipate that in early life she would make religion her choice. In this I was not mistaken. When in her fourteenth year (I believe) she lost one of the kindest and most pious of mothers. Shortly after which she began to meet in class, and from the very commencement there were several peculiarities which stood out in her character. I refer first to her intelligence, though but fifteen years of age: it was very pleasing to hear with what precision and clearness she invariably expressed herself; indeed the correctness with which she spoke would have been creditable to one far more advanced in years. Another thing, very observable from the commencement of her religious career, was her acquaintance with the word of God. In relating her experience, she generally employed Scripture language. Sometimes her quotations from Scripture were rather lengthy, but finely illustrative of a pious soul panting after God, and which could not fail to make an impression that the word of God was her constant study. Another thing ob

servable in her was the fixedness of purpose. Though naturally diffident and hesitating, yet, when she referred to her religions intentions there was no hesitancy; she spoke not only positively but emphatically, whenever she employed the Psalmist's words, as she often did: My heart is fixed, to God my heart is fixed.' None could for a moment doubt her sincerity; and she was not only settled in her purpose to consecrate herself to the service of God, but, comprehending the richness of the believers' privileges, she addressed herself to the attainment of Gospel blessedness in its highest forms. As to the exact time she laboured under the condemning power of sin, I cannot speak positively. This much, however, I know, that after experiencing considerable spiritual anguish and distressing doubt (being tempted to believe that she had committed the unpardonable sin), such a revelation of Christ as an all-sufficient Saviour was vouchsafed unto her, as at once removed her load of guilt, dispelled her doubts and fears, and set her soul at perfect liberty, enabling her to exclaim, O Lord, I will praise thee; though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and behold now thou comfortest me.' From this time her progress, if not rapid, was nevertheless sure; not a meteor's glare, but a steady, certain, increasing light. She was an object of affection to all. But her greatest excellencies could only be seen, and her real worth properly appreciated, by those with whom she lived in daily intercourse. In the several interviews I had with her when visiting her father's house, I found the same gentleness, the same meekness and intelligence which she had displayed before she left us. "A. BLAKELY."

She continued a member of the Batley society till July, 1850, when, having entered the marriage life, she had to leave the neighbourhood. Her first remove was to Hanley. As soon as she arrived there, although she confessed to a strong desire from the time of her conversion to be a minister's wife, she became fully sensible to the claims and duties of that sacred relation; and at times those claims and duties were so vivid to her mind as to make her very anxious. "I am convinced," she would often say, "that I ought to take a part in the prayer meetings, and to engage in prayer in the class meetings, but I fear I shall

never conquer my timidity and nervousness." A sense of duty, however, prompted her to seek grace to conquer her timidity, and, in answer to prayer, she was enabled to speak of God's love to her in love feasts, and to engage in prayer meetings in Hanley, Rochdale, Thorne, and Chester. She exhibited, year after year, evidences of growth in spiritual life.

Her real worth, however, was but little known beyond her domestic sphere. From home her reserved and shrinking delicacy threw a veil over her beautiful character. But at home she silently spread around her that pure light, the preciousness of which is never understood till it is quenched. She anticipated, as by instinct, my necessities and the necessities of the family, and quietly and affectionately contrived to meet them. She was particularly anxious that I might have every facility for study and preparation for the pulpit. While ever concerned for my usefulness, she carefully attended to her own personal piety. She loved private prayer. I have often felt ashamed of myself when I have thought of the time she spent in her closet with God. Frequently in the evening, when she has retired to rest, as I have supposed, I have entered the room an hour, and two hours later, and found her on her knees in communion with the Father of spirits. Those persons who were most frequently seeing her at home will be best prepared to estimate her real characA literary friend, who occasionally visited us while in Thorne, says, in a letter addressed to me, soon after her decease, "I have frequently thought of your dear wife since she left Thorne; she was the meekest creature I ever met with. There is a line of poetry that just expresses what I believe she really

ter.

was

'Celestial fruit on earthly ground,' &c." Similar expressions are used in letters received from my colleagues, and others who were in the habit of visiting the house. She was a child of God, diffusing, by her unaffected piety, a tranquilizing influence over the domestic scene.

Being naturally delicate, she was peculiarly liable to suffer from colds in unfavourable weather. In 1856, while preparing to remove from Thorne, she took cold, which affected her health for some time. In the autumn of the same year, in Chester, she was smitten with a slow intermittent fever, that brought

D

her very low, and permanently enfeebled her constitution. Both of us cherished the hope through the winter, that the approaching summer of 1857 would tend to invigorate the system, and to restore her to her usual health; but our fondly cherished hopes were destined to be blighted. Summer came, but she remained languid, and subject to a cough, caused by the irritated and inflamed state of the bronchial tubes. In autumn symptoms were exhibited of a disease of a more fatal kind. Thinking that a change of air might do her good, she visited her native place in October, and, by giving up the use of the cod liver oil, which yielded her no benefit, and substituting new milk in its stead, she improved considerably in health, and in December she was able to return to Chester. The improvement was very transient. Through a slight cold the cough returned in an aggravated form, accompanied with much expectoration. She now sunk rapidly, and having before her the prospect of death, she desired to return again to Batley, that she might finish her days there, and her mortal remains be laid near the dust of her sainted mother. The friends in Chester had been extremely attentive and kind to her in her affliction; it was therefore a great trial for her to leave them. When parted, she wept for hours, and could not control her feelings. During the last few weeks of her mortal existence I was with her constantly night and day. After a week's separation I left Chester to see her. A few minutes after I entered the room I said, " My dear, I see no hope of your recovery." In reply she cited, very calmly and distinctly, several verses from Cowper, ending with these lines

"The less of this cold earth, the more of heaven; The briefer life, the earlier immortality." For months she had been agitated at the thought of leaving those who were near and dear to her heart. Her affection for them interfered with the exercise of faith in God. After many struggles with her maternal feelings and instincts, and by prayer, she was enabled to give them up.

On Thursday morning, April 22, half-past five. Much excited, she beckoned me to her side, clasped my hands, and said, "God bless you, my dear. Thank you for all your kindness to

me.

God bless you." After a moment's pause, with tears streaming down her face, she prayed "God bless

my Frank, make him a good lad. God bless Ada, and Lois. Hear, O my Father, hear the prayer of thine handmaiden."

I

Sunday, April 25.-In the morning she said, "This will probably be the last Sabbath we shall spend on earth together. I never wished you to neglect your duty on my account, but you are free from preaching engagements to-day, so spend the day with me." complied, and spent many of its moments in prayer to God. Oh, I shall never forget the lessons taught by the painful discipline through which I passed in that sick chamber. The effect on my mind will never be lost in this world. She had seasons of sore conflict with the enemy. In such seasons she has asked-" Why am I thus afflicted? Lord, what have I done? Pray, pray for me." Several times I have been on my knees in the course of an hour, till the darkness has passed away. Again and again she would repeat the words

"Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on thee." When the subject of pain, she would cry-"Lord, have mercy, Lord, have mercy." Lest she should be misunderstood, she would say, "I do not ask for the Lord to pardon my sins, that he has done; but that he may be merciful in saving me from pain of body and the agonies of death." "Lord," again she would cry, "have mercy on me." She asked for a drink of water: as I gave it I said, "In heaven, my dear Susan, you will thirst no more." "I shall," was the reply. "I shall thirst, but it will be for the water of life. I love to think of that water; it flows from the throne of God and the Lamb." Looking with admiration on a few flowers that were on the table at the side of the bed, she asked, "Will there be flowers in heaven?" "I do not think, my dear, there will be material flowers." She replied again—“ then what does the poet mean?

'There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers.' God has implanted in my nature a love for flowers, and if there are none in heaven my love will not be satisfied." "You will find, my dear, in Jesus the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the valley. In him every desire will be more than satisfied." On Friday night, April 30th, at ten o'clock, friends gathered round her bed in solemn silence; her eyes were closed; not a motion

66

could be seen. I whispered in her ear, "My dear, are you dying?" No answer. We knelt to pray, not knowing whether she was in the body or absent from it. While a brother was engaged in prayer a little moisture appeared on her forehead; in a short time she opened her eyes, and gave a sweet smile. I said, "My dear, you were dying." "I was," she replied; "I heard you whisper, but could not speak; I was just losing consciousness. I feel very happy," she said; "I have perfect peace. Oh, how good the Lord is. I have dreaded death; but now I have no pain. This is the best night I have had." The cough had ceased. She saw the clock finger pass the midnight hour, and said, "April is gone and May is come. shall spend this month in heaven. While my children are gathering flowers on earth I shall be in Paradise." At half-past one o'clock there was an effort to cough up a little phlegm, but in the effort the brittle thread broke, and the soul was free.

MRS. CHAMBERS.

OUR late sister, Elizabeth Chambers, was born at Tipton, July 2nd, 1796, where the first few years of her life were spent.

a

At a tender age, she, with her parents, removed from Tipton to Great Bridge, and soon after she commenced attending the ministry of the Wesleyans who had preaching in house there. Nothing occurred during her childhood which it is thought necessary to record in this account. So far as can be ascertained, she paid but little attention to religion, beyond the observance of its outward forms, until the age of fifteen years. About this time a revival of religion took place in the religious society with which she worshipped, and our departed sister appears to have been among the first who were brought to God in connection with that gracious visitation. Her distress of mind while under conviction was very great, about which her parents, who were altogether strangers to religion, were much concerned, and almost came to the conclusion that the intellect of their beloved child was disturbed. A pious neighbour was called in, who explained to her the way of salvation, and endeavoured to lead her young mind to the Saviour. She did not, however, then obtain pardon, but continued for some time afterward to experience the most

intense anguish of spirit on account of sin. Her case excited the sympathy of Christian friends, a number of whom met at her parents' house to offer united⚫ prayer on her behalf, and it was on this occasion that she, through faith in Christ, experienced the forgiveness of her sins, and was enabled to rejoice in God as her reconciled father and friend.

She now joined the Wesleyan society, and highly prized the class meetings as a precious means of grace. The class of which she became a member, for the want of a more suitable place, usually met in a summer house, situate in the garden of the leader; and on several occasions, when passing that well - remembered spot many years afterwards, she has spoken of the delightful and happy seasons she had enjoyed there. While young her Christian career was fixed and stable; there was no wavering or vacillation; she was convinced that, in choosing religion, she had made a happy choice; and exhibited a steady devotion to the cause of God not often to be met with in one so young. Having a good voice, and a gift for singing, she joined the choir of the chapel she attended, and in many other ways manifested a laudable zeal in promoting the welfare and prosperity of Zion.

When about nineteen years of age she entered the married state, and some years afterwards went to reside at Brettell Lane. At this place there was a great dearth of religious means; this she deeply deplored, and at once decided upon joining the Wesleyan society at Stourbridge, and to walk to that distant place to attend the sanctuary and enjoy religious communion with God's people. Some years afterwards, when the same religious body built a chapel and formed a society at Brettell Lane, she was one of the first and most active members of that infant cause. She continued in connection with the Wesleyan society until the year 1836, when she, with a number of others, left the communion of that church and joined the Methodist New Connexion.

About the year 1840, our late sister went to reside at the Oak, and joined our society at Pensnett. Her residence there being so distant from our chapel, and not being able to attend the religious services connected therewith so often as she wished, she offered the use of her house to the church, in

which a class was at once formed, a prayer-meeting established, and preaching occasionally held. Soon after com⚫ing to reside at the Oak, she was seized with a very heavy and protracted affliction, which, after continuing through a period of sixteen years, issued in her lamented death. The religion she had professed and enjoyed in health wonderfully supported and cheered her in sickness and in the prospect of death.

As disease continued to commit its ravages on her frame, and she was reduced to the helplessness of infancy, she would often exclaim, "What should I do without religion now? How hopeless would be my condition, and how dark my prospect! I thank God that, through grace, I sought and found religion early in life, and though I am now grievously afflicted, it inspires hope in my soul-a hope blooming with immortality and eternal life."

Throughout her entire affliction she manifested the most exemplary patience and resignation to the divine will. Not only did no murmuring language escape her lips, but her spirit was entirely free from anything approaching to it.

Gratitude for God's mercies appeared ever to be the prevailing feeling of her heart. She often told her children not to think lightly of religion on account of her affliction, observing, "Whom the Lord loves he chastens," and added, "I do not know why I am thus afflicted, but if it were not for my good, my heavenly Father would not permit it." On one occasion, when in very great pain, she said, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him."

She took great delight in conversing with pious persons, and never tired when talking about religion. On one occasion, when a worldly subject was introduced, she said, "I do not want to hear anything about that; my soul aspires to another world, and to things heavenly and divine."

She often requested those who visited her during her illness to sing. A few weeks before her death a friend called to see her, and though very ill and weak she asked him to sing the hymn beginning with,

"We sing of the realms of the blest,
That country so bright and so fair;
And oft are its glories confest;
But what must it be to be there!

She joined in singing the whole of that hymn with a firm, clear voice, and a rapturous spirit, and at its close said,

"Ah! I shall soon know what it is to be there."

At times her mind was agitated with distressing doubts and fears, and sometimes she experienced seasons of depression and gloom. She often, at such times, sung

"On Jordan's stormy bank I stand,
And cast a wishful eye

To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie."

Another favourite hymn was:-
"Oh what are all my sufferings here,
If, Lord, thou count me meet

With that enraptured host to appear,
And worship at thy feet?"

One of the most prominent characteristics of her piety was her strong confidence in God. Whether she were on the mountain or in the valley, whether the subject of hope or fear, in all states of mind her confidence in God was strong and unwavering.

About a month before she died her numerous family and some relatives assembled at her house on the Sabbath day. The meeting assumed the character of a religious service rather than that of a mere family visit. The Scriptures were read, hymns were sung, and religious conversation filled up the intervals. On this occasion she spoke very pointedly to her children on the subject of religion, and gave them much valuable and pious counsel. She expressed the great grief she felt because so many of them were living in neglect of religion. She said "I have spoken to you individually on the subject, and now would do so collectively." then with great solicitude urged them to seek the Saviour while he may be found; her husband, she said, had promised that he would do so, and what happiness it would afford her could she prevail upon them to do likewise. She spoke calmly and even joyously of her approaching dissolution, expressed herself as fully prepared and waiting for the change; and added, although this poor body has suffered long and much, yet when I get to heaven I shall say that I have not had one pain too many."

She

For about a fortnight previous to her death she appeared drowsy and inclined to sleep much. At intervals, however, she revived, and would then tell how her mind had been occupied. Once she said "While you have thought me asleep, I have had many bright views of heaven, and have been much occupied in thinking of the better land." At another time she said