DIED, at Hulme, Manchester, February 18th, 1855, in the fourteenth year of her age, Sarah Beckett Marsden,― a child of lovely promise. Her earliest days were marked by an affectionate regard to the wishes of her parents, by great docility and sweetness of manner, and by the exercise of much selfdenial respecting things that seemed very desirable to herself. She loved the cause of God; a religious training, doubtless, leading her to value it before her heart became powerfully affected by Divine truth. Yet the gracious operations of the good Spirit were observable in her outward conduct; for she was amiable, submissive, forgiving, ready to do any act of kindness for others, even to her own hurt. She was remarkably prompt and energetic in duty. This was seen in her annual Missionary collecting for the "Juvenile Offerings," in other local efforts, and in her occasional employments in behalf of the poor and sick.

Her health would not admit of the exertions she wished to make. Latent disease preyed, for two years before her death, upon her frame; and medical skill was almost unavailing. During this time, her mind seemed to be gently drawn to a more serious consideration of Divine things. She had obtained permission from the Rev. W. H. Taylor to attend a class which he had formed at Patricroft, during her temporary stay in that neighbourhood; and she was present at several of the meetings, in which she appeared much interested and profited. But her feeble health compelled her to discontinue attendance on these services; and shortly afterwards she

returned home. It was not, however, until the last week of her life, that her disease assumed an alarming character. That week, commencing on the Lord's day, was one of intense and uninterrupted suffering: yet she was enabled to glorify God. Her first words, on recovering the power to speak, after several hours of great agony, were these,

"Should pining sickness waste away
My life in premature decay,

In life or death, I'll strive to say,

THY WILL BE DONE!"

....

This she repeated with great emphasis. Again, and again, and again, her language was,-"Thy will be done."...." The Lord is my Shepherd." "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures." 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."...." He will save me. He does save me. My Saviour.".... Her mind was, evidently, quite engaged on heavenly things. "What is that hymn," she inquired, "that has a verse beginning,

'Jesus, vouchsafe a pitying ray?'"

The hymn was repeated to her, and she appeared to enter into its solemn meaning. At another time she requested the fourteenth chapter of St. John might be read to her; and, after an interval, called for that appropriate hymn,

"God of all consolation, take

The glory of Thy grace."

These readings appeared to soothe her into a quiet,

waiting frame. She very often desired prayer to be made in her behalf by those in attendance, and earnestly joined in the petitions offered. Once, almost in an agony of fervent pleading for a present blessing, she referred to the memorable words of Christ, which sustained her confidence: "I know He will; for I read the other day, 'Whatsoever ye ask in prayer believing, ye shall receive.""

She often appealed to the Saviour with a truly childlike trust. Once she said,-" FATHER! FATHER!' but immediately added, "I don't know how to pray to the FATHER, unless I ask for mercy and thankfulness.” To instruct her by means of a simple but matchless example, the Lord's Prayer was recited, and each sentence commented upon in a few words, up to that favourite passage, "Thy will be done." This she said twice over, with much feeling; and then seemed to rest in the contemplation of God. Henceforth her mind was kept in perfect peace. No earthly thought distressed her, excepting that one of leaving her beloved parents, brothers, and sisters. Some days later, however, she was enabled to bid each farewell, with great serenity, resignation, and love.

On the Thursday she tried to sing one verse of the hymn,

"Jesu, Lover of my soul," &c. :

but the voice that once charmed had lost its power, and the fingers that had contributed their aid were now motionless by her side: it was her last effort, and one that will never be forgotten. An almost

seraphic sweetness enriched that now feeble

as it uttered the lines,

"Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life be past;
Safe into the haven guide,

O receive my soul at last."

It was said to her, "This is a storm of affli for you, my love." "It is," she answered. God can save you out of it." "Yes, He can, rejoined.

But she was called to suffer yet more. St convulsions for hours together seemed to thre immediate dissolution; but again and again revived, to tell of the goodness of God, and to s His praise. She would say, "Never mind: again over. He helps me to bear it; and He help me, mamma.

"Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face."

"God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform!"

The day but one before she died, was one of m pain; but her confidence in God never forsook She looked to Jesus, and was saved from all Many were her pious remarks throughout that Once she calmly repeated, in conversing with рара,

"If Thou shouldst call me to resign

What most I prized, it ne'er was mine;
I only yield Thee what is Thine:

Thy will be done!"

-and whispered, "That is for you and Ma, when I am gone."

The last great conflict was drawing near. During the Friday night, one of the most terrible struggles of human agony was endured. It seemed more than exhausted nature could sustain, continuing for some hours. The anguish, mental and spiritual, as well as bodily, was extreme. Prayer only gave relief,-frequent, fervent prayer. It was mortal combat with the grand adversary. The sufferings of Christ were mentioned to the dear dying child, and prayer again offered. At length she waved her arm, as in token of triumph, when she sank into repose. It appeared like rest, indeed, after victory. On awaking, she said, impressively, “I am now going to heaven." Again, to her papa, after about an hour and a half of continuous silence, she solemnly declared, “Papa, I am going to heaven." During Saturday, many were the precious words she uttered, all indicative of the sanctifying change the Holy Spirit had wrought in her now hallowed soul;sweet expressions of confiding love, of solid peace. It would be impossible to relate them all: for as she drew nearer the closing scene, fresh manifestations of Divine love sustained her sinking yet agonizing frame; and she would break out anew in the language of strong faith. She delighted in the promise, "I will never leave thee, I will never forsake thee."

Occasionally, beautiful verses appeared to express the thoughts passing within her mind. So, more than once she quoted,-