plaints were of long standing, and, she feared, incurable: her lungs were affected, and she had water on her chest. On my again reverting to spiritual subjects, she expressed a considerable degree of alarm as to her salvation, saying, she had the greatest fears that all would be wrong with her at last.

As the nature of her complaints rendered her recovery hopeless, I considered it my duty to tell her, that she could not recover; that though she might linger for weeks, or even months, yet her present disorders would bring her eventually to the grave, and might do so very speedily. I said, that every one placed in similar circumstances, and destitute of genuine repentance, faith in Christ, and love to God, had the greatest reason to be alarmed; that I would, however, much rather find her in her present frame of mind, than in a state of indifference, without apprehensions, but at the same time destitute of any well-founded hope of a blissful immortality. I made no effort to dispel her fears; but attempted to deepen her convictions, by dwelling on the purity of God, the holiness and extent of his law, his unchangeable hatred to sin, and his determination not to suffer it to remain unpunished. She listened with eager attention, appeared overwhelmed with a conviction of her sinfulness, and destitute of any hope of pardon. Finding her mind so ready to discern the truth, and her heart so susceptible of its power, I stated my own case: My convictions of sin have been, perhaps, as deep as yours. I have felt that it is an evil and bitter thing to sin against God; and were it not for a belief that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, I should be as miserable at the present moment as yourself." I went on to state the foundations of my own hope, and preached the Gospel to her in all its freeness. She, however,

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derived no consolation from its truths, and said, she feared she must be for ever lost. I called in her relatives, and, after reading and prayer, took my leave.

About twelve o'clock at night, I was summoned to visit her again, as it was feared she was dying. I rose from my bed, and obeyed the summons. The moon was shining in its brightness. The sea, along the shore of which I walked, was unruffled, and reflecting with a steady lustre the beams of heaven which fell upon its ample surface. No cloud hung in the atmosphere. Not even a breeze was awake to disturb the repose of nature. All was calm and silent. The impressions produced on the mind by this scene could be no other than admiration of the wisdom and power of God, and adoring gratitude to him for his goodness to his creatures. I was about to behold a scene of a widely different kind. The one proved to me, that God was wise, and powerful, and good; the other was to teach me, that the exercise of other attributes was necessary to insure the peace' and happiness of a fallen world. Without, all was calm; within the doors of the house to which I was invited, all was alarm and agitation. The contrast was at once striking, impressive, and instructive.

I found Mrs. H— leaning on the bosom of her niece, her breathing laborious, her pulse fluttering and intermittent, and her medical attendant expecting that every five minutes would be her last. She was in mental, as well as bodily agony. The 38th Psalm is descriptive of her case-" the hand of God pressed her sore: her iniquities were as a heavy burden, too heavy for her." I asked her relatives why they sent for me; that I could work no miracle, either by restoring her to health, or by affording her peace of conscience. They told me, she wished

The

to see me, that I might pray for her. I asked her her wish. All she could say, was "Pray" "Pray." We kneeled down, and I prayed that she might have pardon and peace, be purified, and made meet for heaven. I did not venture to pray for her restoration, apprehending that she was about to be called to the bar of God. We rose from our knees, and I seated myself before her. She She was in great agonies. The sight wrung us to the heart. But her mental pangs were much more severe than her bodily. whole scene was most distressing. There were several persons in the room. Some were sitting in silent sorrow the medical attendant doing all in his power to afford assistance-her niece supporting her, and weeping over her. The poor sufferer herself, concerned about one thing only, was, at intervals, when the violence of her pangs would permit, crying for mercy: "Save me, save me"-" Christ, spare me"-" Pardon, pardon; for Christ's sake, pardon." These words she continued to utter at intervals, in a voice audible to those only who were near that end of the sofa on which she was reclining. I spoke to her occasionally, mentioning some of the most encouraging passages of Scripture, and directing her to look to Christ alone. She said she had no other hope, but expresed great fears. I left her, at five in the morning, in the same state in which she was when I entered the room at midnight.

place." She looked assent.-" Do you desire its purity, as well as its felicity?" its felicity?" She assented with emotion.-I questioned her as to her hatred of sin. Her looks were expressive of abhorrence.-As to her hope in Christ. The expres

sion of her countenance was faint hope, mingled with the greatest fear, and unutterable anxiety.We prayed. I rose from my knees, and left the room, fearing I should see her no more.

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I called in the evening. She was better. Several friends were around her and in great distress. An individual present turned to me, as I entered the room, and said, Sir, she is an excellent and amiable woman," or words to that effect. "Her conduct has been irreproachable. There is no cause for all this alarm. I did not expect to see this." I immediately said, "This doctrine, my dear Sir, will not do now."—I seated myself by her, and inquired, "Have you, Mrs. H―, been that excellent woman your friend seems to suppose ?"-"No," said she, (with an expression of the greatest self-abhorrence,)" it's all wrong, it's all wrong."-"I hope you do not think I can save you. As you send for me so frequently, I fear you are depending on me."

"On YOU! You save me!! No."" Are you, then, hoping to save yourself; or have you no hope from that quarter?"—" I have no hope, but in Christ," was her reply.- Keep looking to him."" I have cried to him incessantly. Do you think he will hear me?". "I trust he will: he casts out none who come to him."

"Ah! but I am so great a sinner."—" He came to seek and save them that were lost. He died for sinners; he lives for them; and it is for such that he now pleads before the throne of his Father. And why not for you? Whosoever believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life." After a few more observa

tions of an encouraging kind, I said, "God has been very merciful to you: I did not expect to find you alive."."" He is kind to me, indeed. He has spared me a little longer to enlighten, I trust, this dark soul." I was with her a considerable time this visit, and had a great deal of conversation. Finding her deeply convinced of sin, and not at that time knowing that she had felt serious impressions some years before, I was rather surprised at her accurate conceptions of divine truth, and at her desire for those penitential and gracious feelings, the sweetness of which is known only to those who experience them. I read the 12th chapter of Isaiah, prayed, and left her.

On the Wednesday she was very low, and thought to be near death. In the evening I called, found her much revived, and had a long and most interesting interview. She expressed a wish to feel a more firm conviction of pardon than she had hitherto experienced. Bearing in mind her knowledge of the Gospel, I said, " Madam, you know the truth as well as I do: you know there is no other Saviour but Christ; that no blood but his can cleanse from sin; that salvation is all of grace," &c. &c. To this she assented. I then began to make inquiries as to the period when she first knew the truth. She told me, she had heard the Gospel from Mr. S. of Chapel; that, six years ago, her mind had been seriously impressed; that she had dedicated herself to God, celebrated the Supper of her Lord, and found peace and pleasure in the ways of God. She said, that, previous to her last confinement, she had found much delight in religion; had prayed fervently to God for deliverance, in the hour of her sorrow; but had requited the goodness of God with the most base ingratitude. Induced by her dear NEW SERIES, No. 9.

est earthly friend, she quitted the ministry under which she had been at first impressed, and attended where she derived no benefit; and, allured by the same tempter, she was soon lost in the vortex of elegant but gay society, which, fascinated by the accomplishments of herself and husband, was constantly surrounding them. She expressed the greatest abhorrence of herself, as a backslider from God, and feared she could never be forgiven. I gave her no encouragement to think lightly of her sin, but endeavoured to set it before her in its blackest colours. This was, however, almost unnecessary: she abhorred herself, and repented as in dust and ashes. "The world allured you from God. Did it give you satisfaction or pleasure."-" No; it made me most miserable."-" When you first began to mix with that society which has been so injurious to you, did you immediately give up prayer and every kind of spiritual exercise !"-"No; my conscience would not allow this; but I gradually lost the spirit of religion."-" Did you give up private devotion soon after you left off hearing the Gospel, or did you continue to pray night and morning ?"-" I did not give up private devotion; but I soon lost the spirit of prayer."-" In what light do you now regard all those accomplishments which qualified you for that class of society which was the means of alluring you from God?"-" They are all nothing to me now."-" If you were to be restored to health, could you associate with your gay friends again"-" If I were, I could have no pleasure, nothing but distress of conscience, in their society." She was very much concerned, because she had not, till this interview, told me of her former religious impressions. "Do not think I wished to give you a wrong idea of my character-to conceal any 3 N

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leave him again. What do you think of that prayer of the Psalmist, Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe?"-" That suits me." I left her, and returned at eight o'clock. I had some tracts in my hand. I was distributing them among her friends and attendants in the room. When I seated myself by her, she drew my hand towards her, and said, "Give one ." She described, in two words, her character, and added, "I trust, that seeing me in so wretched a state will be useful to her." She mentioned her little boy, spoke of him in a most affectionate way, and referred to his reading the 23d Psalm. Her mind was, at this time, gradually receiving peace; her terrors had subsided; she was looking to the Saviour. I left her with the most pleasing hopes that my visits had not been in vain.

On the evening of Sunday, (October 1,) after the evening-service, I found her much better, and I was much encouraged by her grate ful and affectionate disposition of mind. Her leading wish was, to have her own will swallowed up in the will of God. Her fears were almost wholly removed, and calmness and resignation had taken their place. She asked me to pray for a few moments, saying, that she feared I should be exhausted by the labours of the day. On Monday (Oct. 2,) she was very ill. At eleven at night, I went to her apartment, and remained till four in the morning. She was suffering under a severe attack. Her agonies were heartrending; but her trust was in Christ, and her desires for deeper penitence and an increased feeling of self-abhorrence. The word of God was now precious in her esteem; she wished consolatory passages to be suggested to her, and derived much comfort from them.

On the following day, she appeared very low. Her lungs were

giving way; and death was approaching as certainly, but not in so terrific a form, as under the attacks of her other disease. She had many fears, thinking her repentance not sufficiently deep, her self-abhorrence for her ingratitude to God not so lively as it ought to have been. I found her, however, on inquiry, renouncing herself, trusting in Christ; and her answers and spirit were most pleasing and satisfactory.

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On the following day, (Wednesday,) I found her in great agonies of body, but her mind in a heavenly and spiritual frame. She was expecting immediate dissolution, and appeared not only prepared, but even anxious for her great change. "I suffer much; but what are these sufferings, when compared with those of my Saviour. I have been thinking of Calvary: I remember his cross. O how can I forget it! I long to depart, and to be with Christ: he will receive me." I said, "He will reject none who come to him; he saves to the uttermost. Look unto me, and be saved. " She requested me to repeat the 23d Psalm. When I came to the 4th verse, she said, That is the verse I mean." Under one most severe paroxysm, which she thought would be her last, and which caused the most dreadful agonies, she said, when a moment's intermission of her pains allowed her to speak, "Soon to be in glory." She recovered; and suffered under renewed attacks. I said, "You are not to leave us yet." She said, "Oh for patience to bear all the will of God! "Twill not be long. Oh that this conflict were over! But how sinful I am not to submit. Lord, grant me submission!" She spoke in an affectionate way of her little boy. I asked her, if she had seen him. "I do not mean to see him any more: I would have nothing intervene between me and my God."