Our Gift

by Teachers of the School Street Universalist Sunday School. Boston

Strict integrity and a strong sense of justice characterized her even in her childhood. A little circumstance bearing upon this point I will relate. She had been to an apothecary's shop for some medicines, and on reaching home found that she had received back more change than was due. Of her own accord she proposed to return it, nor would she willingly delay for a moment the performance of so manifest an act of justice. She received from the apothecary the highest encomium, and a reward for her integrity. In all her transactions she showed the same scrupulousness in matters of right, and thus became a bright example for all children to imitate.

She was not less remarkable for her obedience to the wishes of her sister, than for her regard for justice. She not only obeyed, but obeyed readily and cheerfully. And so sensible is that sister of her great excellence in this respect, now that she has passed away, that she cannot speak of her but with the deepest emotion.

She seemed to have very little power to bear disappointment. Her feelings were very tender, and her sensibilities great. Disappointment, therefore, brought the ready tear to her eye; and solicitous affection, if possible, removed the pressure which had caused it. But some of the later revelations of her life indicated rare ability to endure disappointment, and to cherish hope even in the audience-chamber of death. Thus will it appear in the end that her heart was full of Christian confidence and holy trust.

In the course of June, 1850, it was observed by her friends that her health was manifestly declining. She was advised to leave her employment at once, and seek in relaxation and change of scene the reestablishment of her health and the restoration of her accustomed vigor. Accordingly accompanied by her brother, she spent some three weeks of the month of July in various parts of Maine; but health did not come back to her. Disease was too deeply seated to be beguiled away.

She returned to her home but to languish and die. When the news of her mortal illness reached the Sabbath school, in which she had now been a faithful and beloved teacher for about a year, it produced the most intense interest and solicitude. All felt that a dearly beloved sister had become the victim of the destroyer. That, however, which was a source of unmingled grief in the beginning, became a sanctifying power in the end.

When first informed that it was feared her disease would terminate fatally, she betrayed the deepest emotion, with scarcely the utterance of a word. Her natural sensibility made the weight upon her spirits seem insupportable. But when the first shock was past and her powers had had time to rally, she was found equal to the trial that awaited her. That truth which she had long loved, and which had produced very little of that Christian display by which the world judges, had wrought silently but powerfully upon her understanding and her heart. It had begotten hopes in a naturally hopeful spirit, stronger than death itself.

When her pastor from time to time spoke to her of the labors and sacrifices of Christ, of the love of the Father and of the blessedness of immortality, leading her sometimes to meditate upon the highest forms of Christian truth, the smile of satisfaction that played upon her countenance, showed not only that her powers were equal to the effort, but that her heart was satisfied with its fruit.

Her disease, which was consumption, was of a very painful character, especially as regarded difficulty of breathing. She was compelled to sit up continually, almost to the hour of her death. Yet in the moment of expected dissolution, so generous was her nature, her heart was yearning for blessings on others rather than herself. At one time just before her death she requested her pastor to remember in his prayer an absent sister, that she might recover from a critical illness; and in one of his last interviews with her, she desired him to "attend her funeral and comfort her brothers and sisters, and especially that sister who had been a mother to her." "Oh, Hannah has always been a good girl" burst from the lips of that sister,—an involuntary tribute to cheerful, ready obedience, and true excellence of heart. She had given some little memento of affection to each of the family and friends, and enjoined upon her brother, who still remains with the sisters, to "be sure and be kind to them," when she quietly fell asleep.

Thus died an excellent young woman, Oct. 2d, 1850, aged 24 years and 8 months. The strength of her trust and the depth of her Christian experience could be seen in her meek submission to suffering, in that remarkable patience which allowed not a word of murmuring to escape her lips through the whole progress of her disease, and which enabled her to believe that every providence of God is ordered in perfect wisdom.

Humble in her outward position, her spiritual attainments were of the most exalted character. The stores of excellence treasured in her heart were made manifest in the hour of great trial, and the Christian instruction to which she was accustomed to apply herself, begat the holiest resignation and the most confident trust.