Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high,
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life be past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last!
The dying missionary endeavored to join in the singing though extremely faint, and life's latest sun was sinking fast, for the hour of her departure had come, and she heard the voice that called her home, and at last she peacefully entered into that rest that remains for the people of God.
Three thousand copies of the "Last Hours" were printed in pamphlet form and widely scattered over different parts of the country. And the Lord has been graciously pleased to bless their circulation to the spiritual edification of those who had the privilege of reading them.