ILLNESS AND DEATH OF A BELOVED DAUGHTER. 19

The entrance of Mr. Dupont put an end to Victoire's speech.

During the day Emily did not cease to think of the pot of apricot jam; it was so large and so good. She seemed as if she were already tasting it, and thought it would not have been wrong if she had received it. Her conscience spoke loudly; but Emily did all she could to suppress it, and to forget all.

(To be continued.)

THE LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH OF A BELOVED DAUGHTER.

Ir pleased God, in sovereign mercy, to display His power to work mightily in her who is the subject of this memoir. She was born October 27, 1827; her parents sought to train her up "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." Nothing particular occurred, with the exception of a few convictions for sin and fear of death, which seemed to lead her to cry to the Lord at intervals; she was naturally of a quiet disposition, and not disposed to talk much, so that she never communicated what she passed through at this time, until it pleased the Lord to lay her on a bed of affliction. It was evident she was an attentive listener to the preaching of the gospel; but there is no trace of the particular time or moment when the Gracious Lord was pleased to begin the good work in her soul, which was so strikingly manifested in the last month of her illness; in which the Lord so proved the all-sufficiency of His grace, as to cause it to rise above all the feelings of nature and, at times, above the pains of the body (for she suffered greatly from the nature of her disease). When she first began to be aware that it was im

possible for her to recover, and all hope was completely gone, this was the time when her true situation, as a sinner lost and ruined, was really felt; in deep anguish of soul she exclaimed, "Oh, to die! I cannot pray, do pray for me!" This was what her friends had been desirous of witnessing; for they had been, for weeks, struggling to know how to speak to her upon this all-important point, till it had produced great anguish in their minds, and much prayer to God to display His mercy, as their mouths were quite closed. It does seem as though the Lord had determined not to make use of any one, to show them what His glorious grace could do, apart from all means. To hear her express how deeply she felt, as a poor lost sinner, was, therefore, instant relief to their burdened minds; she continued in this state of mind for some days, saying how very unhappy she felt herself; on being asked, by a very dear relative, what made her so, she said "her sins were so great." When reminded that she knew the way of salvation, she answered, "I do." She was then asked if she could pray; her reply was, "I cannot, my heart is so hard," and she appeared very much distressed. In this state of mind, a sermon, by the late William Gadsby, entitled "The Solemnities of Zion," was read to her by her sister, a portion of which was so powerfully impressed upon her soul as to lead her to remark, “that it was a true description of her case." This seemed, in some measure, to afford a little relief, and to excite hope. During this state of conflict, a little hymn, which she used to repeat when a child, returned fresh to her memory; by the goodness of the Lord, this was attended with no small comfort to her soul, as it seemed exactly suited to her present state, and its language expressed the feelings of her heart:

"Father of mercies, hear my prayer,
By Christ I come to thee;

His precious blood is all my hope,
His righteonsness my plea.

"Bless'd Jesus, let thy Spirit come,
And teach a child to pray;
For, of myself, I nought can do,
And nought of self can say.
"As daily, through this world of strife,
I onward press to thee;

Say, with a Father's tender love,
My child, keep near to me.'

Not being able to sleep much in consequence of pain, she said to her mother, in the middle of the night, "Do talk to me, I feel so unhappy ;" which continued until the afternoon of the next day. This may be truly said to have been the day of the Lord, when He was pleased, in wonderful love and mercy, to speak with power to her soul, granting her a sweet sense of the pardon of her sins, and peace in her conscience. Then she said, "I am quite happy; I love the Lord with all my heart; I feel as if I could give up everything for Him; I think I shall never doubt again: now I know what it is to be a citizen referring to W. Gadsby's sermon. She called all the family, and spoke to each with an energy beyond her strength; so great was the Lord's abounding grace in her soul, that she forgot her pains for awhile, speaking of what she felt. After a suitable word for each, she said: "I do not like to part with you, but we shall meet again; only think of dying and going to heaven. What a happy room!

Per

haps you will think I never thought of these things until now; but I always prayed the Lord would one day call me by His grace.' "She never felt the power of prayer in the way she did at this time; she said,

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everything appeared so different," and was completely astonished at the wonderful change which had taken place in her feelings and views-seeming to be in full expectation that she was about to go home immediately. This was followed by great bodily suffering during the night, which occasioned her a feeling of great exhaustion the next day, and forced from her a complaint of much deadness of soul; she could not think why she felt so stupid-was not as she wished to be-wondered how it could be, after such a wonderful display of the Lord's great goodness; all which made her fear that she was deceived, and that her feelings did not spring from a right source. Thus the conflict between nature and grace became more visible.

On Saturday, the 22nd of April, her father had occasion to visit a place where several of her friends resided, and asked, "Well, Elizabeth, what shall I say to inquiring friends? for they will ask me all about you.' She replied, with a sweet smile, "Tell them the Lord has done great things for me." The next day, being the Lord's-day, she seemed much exhausted, and hardly able to observe anything or pay attention to what was passing-although her mother tried to direct her mind to the great truths of the everlasting gospel, by reading, &c.-when suddenly her attention was aroused on hearing the following lines, by Montgomery, on Romans viii. 37: "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us."

“Oh, ye that shudder at the awful strife,

This wrestling agony of death and life,
Think not that He on whom my soul is cast
Will leave me thus forsaken to the last!
Nature's infirmity alone you see,

My chains are breaking, I shall soon be free;