better exemplified that precept; In your patience possess ye your souls. As she lived, so she died. Her death, which took place on the 25th of March, 1812, was a scene of composure, of peace, and of joy. Convinced that her sickness would prove mortal, she remarked; "It is a great thing to die. Do not think I feel alarmed. I am willing to die. I have o merits to plead. Oh! no. My life contains nothing to be depended on. I am the chief of sinners. I have no hope, but in the sovereiga, free grace of God." At another time, she observed; "I am now pained with thirst, but I hope to be shortly with my Savior, drinking at the streams which flow at his right hand. And yet it sur prises me, that I can entertain such hopes." On the day of her death, she said; "If I covet any thing more, it is, that I may be able to speak more for God. I have but a short time to continue. God is very good. For two days I have not been able to weep. I cannot shed a tear. I believe I shall NEVER shed another."

Among her private papers was found the following, which shews her early attention to that religion which was ever after the object of her life, and her support, comfort and joy in death.

"Being taught, with the first dawnings of reason, in an impressive and solemn manner, the distinction between virtue and vice, and the consequences of each, my mind became exceeding tender, at the age of five or six years. I felt myself a sinner, and exposed to the awful punishment of everlasting fire. At times, my mind was exceedingly distressed. Being told that God not only took cognizance of all my actions, but was perfectly acquainted with every thought of my heart, I se cretly wished for a retreat, where I might escape his penetrating eye; but was taught to believe no such place could be found. I made strong resolutions of obedience, but alas! found myself incapable of observing them. My anxiety was not perpetual, but was very often diverted by childish amusements; and, as I grew older, i grew more inattentive; though the practice of self-examination and secret devotion was never entirely forsaken. At the age of eighteen, and about the first of March, 1793, for a particular reason, but without any special seriousness on my mind, I came to a determination to lay aside every other book, and attend only to the reading of the Bible. I felt no material change in my views for some weeks; when, being one evening in a large circle of youths, our minister came in, and after solemnly recommending to us the choice of the one thing needful, concluded with observing, that several of our gay young friends had already hopefully set out in

pursuit of the kingdom of heaven. I was struck with the information, and from that time my mind became more thoughtful than ever. Not long after, those persons were propounded for admission into the church. My heart then rose within me. I felt myself injured. I thought that God had imparted his grace to those who had not sought it with half the assiduity that I had done, and whose lives had not been so blameless as mine. I thought I could rejoice that they had found mercy, bat felt that I was wronged in being left behind.-It was now that I began to taste the wormwood and the gall. The thunders of Mount Sinai sounded in my ears, and, for a short time, made me tremble. My terrors, however, soon subsided, and I found myself borne down under an insupportable weight of sin. I thought my couvietions had all left me, and that God had given me up to stupidity and hardness of heart. I ardently wished and prayed that my former distress might return, and concluded I had sinned away the day of grace, when it was suggested to me by a friend, that the greater the crimes of the repenting sinner, the greater would be the display of sovereign grace in his salvation. The consideration of this afforded a ray of hope to my desponding heart. I said to myself; God is a sovereign. He has mercy on none, because he has any complacency in them. Who knows but he may magnify the riches of his grace in saving just such a poor, depraved, sinful creature as I am? I cannot, I must not despair. I will not give over seeking; I can but perish at last. For several weeks, my mind was deeply oppressed and almost overwhelmed with a sense of my exceeding sinfulness. I felt the force of these words of the poet, which were continually in my mind;

"No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast, Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest, Nor running brook, nor flood nor sea, Can wash the dismal stain away.”

"Not only my actual sins were set in order before me; but more especially the entire depravity of my nature was felt. My own heart appeared like a viper in my bosom; deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. I said to myself; Who can fathom the depths of its iniquity? I felt it would be just in God, to cast me of forever, and assign my portion with those miserable beings, who are shut up to all eternity in the regions of despair and unutterable woe. As yet, I could see no peculiar excelleney in the character of Christ. I was told, indeed I had ever beeu taught, that I must renouuce my own righteousness and rely only on that of a

Savior. But alas! I knew not what it meant. To my dark understanding these were words almost without meaning. Sometime in the month of June, or July, I realized an alteration in my views, but so gradual, or rather so faint, was the light which first broke in upon my mind, that I cannot fix with precision upon the day, the important day, when the day star arose in my heart, when the prey was taken from the mighty, and the lawful captive restored. Indeed, whether Christ was ever formed in my heart, I could never say with any great degree of confidence. But that I had views and exercises entirely different from any I had ever experienced before, I can never admit a doubt. It is imprinted on my memory as with a sunbeam. Then, if I was not deceived, the character of God appeared very excellent, infinitely glorious. His perfections shone with resplendent lustre in every surrounding_object. In the meanest of his works I thought I could trace the finger of a God. I did not, at that time, have so distinct views of the character of Christ, as Mediator, as some have expressed, and as I humbly hope I have since experienced; but felt myself at times so swallowed up with the perfections of the ONE GOD, that I had little or no concern for my own personal safety. I felt that I was in his hands, whose decisions are infinitely just, and that I had nothing to fear. I thought it a source of inexpressible joy, that the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth; and these words were, for several days, in my mouth; The Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice. I was astonished that I could have remained so long blind to the beauties of his character. I felt a strong desire that the whole world should taste and see that the Lord was good. But these comfortable frames were comparatively short in their duration; for by far the greater part of the time my mind was enveloped in thick darkness, and God was pleased to leave me to the cruel tortures of the grand enemy of all true peace in the mind of man. For two or three days, I seemed to be given up to all the buffet ugs which the malice of Satan could inflict. Uautterable blasphemies against that Being, whom I thought I adored with my whole heart, were now perpetually the subject of my thoughts. My situation of mind was then indescribably miserable, I viewed these dreadful suggestions as the spontaneous production of a wicked heart. I knew not what to do. In the midst of my trouble I took up a book, entitled Cases of Conscience, in which the author observes, that wicked thoughts, if reject

ed and abhorred, will not be placed to our account, but are chargeable only to the father of lies, and properly called the fiery darts of Satan. This afforded me relief. I recollected these words of inspiration; Resist the devil and he will flee from you. I gave myself to prayer and to meditation of the Scriptures, and soon found the above passage verified. Tran. quillity soon became the inmate of my bosom, and I humbly trust I had joy and peace in believing. The great fundamen tal doctrines of the Gospel, in which I had been educated, and taught speculatively to believe, I now felt to be an unfailing source of comfort. I saw a beauty I never discovered in them before; and though I could not fully comprehend them, yet I felt a persuasion that what I knew not then, I should know hereafter. In the month of September, the same year, I made a public profession of my faith in Christ, and his doctrines, and was received into full communion in the church, in my na tive place. Since which, I have seen much of the workings of my wicked heart, and have been left to fear, that I should one day fall irretrievably by those dreadful corruptions. There is no truth, où which I feel more forcibly convinced, than that salvation is wholly of grace; that poor, apostate man can never have any ground to hope for salvation from any works of righteousness which he has done; but if he is saved, it must be by the mercy of God through a Mediator. Free grace will be the highest note he can sound through eternity. Not unto me, not unto me, but unto thy name give glory.”

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

A LAY BROTHER will see that we have compressed the substance of his two com munications into one. The publication of them has not been delayed from indiference to their contents.

We are obliged to the person, who some time ago sent us a letter from a daughter in England to her father in America. The intelligence which it contains, except what is of a personal natore, has been laid before the American public

A correct copy of the letter from Dr. Buckminster, which was inserted in the last volume of the Panoplist, p. 220, has been harded to us. The variations are not sufficiently important to require the republication of the letter; though they exemplify the fact, that the alterations est a manuscript, in passing through the hands of several careless transcribers, win be surprisingly numerous.