"Seven years ago my dear father entered into rest."
This day, replete with memories dear,
The well-known image brings to view
Of him, whose name I still revere;
Whose worth till lost, I never knew.
My father, (still the name is sweet!)
Now in a fairer region dwells:
Him gladly will I go to meet,
Though wild between us Jordan swells.
"My dear mother continues very feeble, and much of my time, night and day, is devoted to her. She suffers from manifold temptations; yet I am encouraged to believe she will be delivered. Make no long tarrying, O my God,—Yesterday and to-day I have been severely and painfully exercised on account of my mother: still I hang upon the word of the promise, 'In the eventide it shall be light. Yesterday she said, 'The will of the Lord be done.'—She tells me this morning she enjoys peace. Her memory is much impaired. My mind is much distressed, but finds its rest in God. It seems, as if by diversity of trial, the Lord wills to purge my affections. O let Thy will be done. Help me, however nature rebels, fully to give up my own will. Blessed be God, my soul enjoys peace. 'I trust in Him, who stands between the Father's wrath and me.' My dear mother's weakness increases; but she says this morning, she dare not doubt of going to heaven.—I sat up with my dear mother. About half-past twelve she was convulsed, and felt sick; then, she dosed a little; then sick again,—called for Richard,—wandered,—evidently changed for death, and had a severe struggle, often saying, 'Do help me, do.' Her sufferings were acute. Once she said, 'Lord, help me;' and again, 'Hope thou in God, for I shall yet pr——;' but the words were interrupted by her sufferings, My anguish of mind is known to Thee. As I stood by the fire the words were suggested,
'Thy warfare's past, thy mourning's o'er; Look up, for thou shalt weep no more.'
I was comforted. My dear husband, cousin, and Mary, found great consolation in prayer just before her departure. Her last words were, 'Pray, pray;' 'Lord, Lord.' Thus, about half-past one on the 23rd of March, my dear mother 'fell asleep,' aged seventy-two years and three weeks."
And though in ruin now her body lies,
A peaceful smile upon her face is spread:
The struggle o'er—her spirit upward flies,
To join the spirits of the blessed dead.
"My dear departed mother was interred in St. Lawrence churchyard, by the side of my beloved father; leaving the impressive admonition—'prepare to follow.' I feel it—my heart determines—my will submits—I have set about it. Lord help me to persevere."
LOOK UPWARD.
Oh! how uncertain all below!
Our comforts cause us pain;
Smiling, they sting us as they go,
Ne'er to return again.
Then upward turn thy weeping eye;
Nor, like yon drooping tree,
Bend downward to the earth; on high
See Jesus looks on thee.
Jesus! what balm is in that sound!
It bids our tears away;
Spreads life and happiness around;
Converts the night to day.
To feel Thy dying love, be mine;
To hear Thy charming voice;
The ceaseless whisper, 'I am Thine,'
Shall bid my heart rejoice.
Dearer than sons or daughters; Thou;
Dearer than mother's love;
Gladly for Thee I all forego,
And seek my bliss above.
"I went to Wigginton to visit a young woman, whom I found praising God for having afflicted her, and brought her to the knowledge of the truth. To some others, I was powerfully constrained to speak respecting their souls.—Miss Bentley came for a few days. We visited many of the villagers, to put them in mind to prepare for eternity.—Mr. Hope announced from the pulpit, that it was his wish I should commence a class in Haxby on Monday evening, at seven o'clock. The words occurred to me, 'By whom shall Jacob arise, for he is small?' O my God, to Thee my obligations are great, and my weaknesses are all known; but if this is from Thee, bring it to pass; let there be some token for good, some rending of heart among the people.—According to appointment I went to Haxby, to meet any who were desirous of fleeing from the wrath to come. Three persons came; two of them backsliders, and one who has never met before.—Visited several of the villagers. At one place I felt much while bowed at the throne of grace. A little boy, to whom I afterwards addressed a few words, burst into tears. O that the Lord would poor out His Spirit, and bow their hearts to His sway! O Lord, let not my unfaithfulness hinder Thy work.—After meeting my class in the city, I went on to Heslington to see Mr. K., who is apparently on his death-bed. I endeavoured to speak faithfully; but unless the Spirit of God apply the truth, vain is the help of man. I feel much out of love with myself.—Walked again to see Mr. K., who appears as teachable as a little child. I feel encouraged to hope that he will lay hold upon Jesus. But O how dangerous to delay until death stares us in the face!—Went to Haxby, and found only one to meet me there: but the Lord met her, which was better than numbers without Him. O God, keep this precious soul—this asked-for token of Thy love. While sitting under the word, the Lord made it as a broad river to my soul. 'Blessed are the pure in heart,' was the subject. Tears of love and gratitude rolled down my cheeks, and love filled my heart; for I felt myself a partaker of this great salvation."