thing is God:" He is well pleased to have his faith changed into sight, and his hope into fruition: He hath been long pained and burdened in this sinful world, with the vain trifles, the poor low cares and amusements of it; the sins and sorrows and temptations that surround him in it, give him continual disquietudes, and he hath been training up in the school of Christ, by devotion and good works for those higher services of heaven. Since he can trust the promises of the gospel, and has had some small foretaste of these pleasures, he knows that the actions and employments, the businesses and joys of the upper world, are incomparably superior to any thing here on earth, and free from all the uneasy and defiling circumstances of this life. He is awake to receive this change: He rejoices in his removal from world to world: His vital and active powers are ready for the business of paradise, and he opens his heart to take in the joy.

7. Consid. Death makes its approaches oftentimes, and seizes us in such a manner as to give no room for prayers or repentance, then the blessedness of the watchful soul appears, that if he is carried out of the world and time in such a surprising way, he is safe for eternity.'

Sometimes the messenger of death stops all our thoughts and actions at once by a lethargic stroke, or confounds them all, by the delirious rovings of a fever; the light of reason is eclipsed and darkened, the powers of the mind are all obstructed, or the languishings of nature have so enfeebled them, that ei

ther we cannot exercise them to any spiritual purposes, or we are forbid to do it, for fear of counterworking the physician, increasing the malady, and hastening our death. Thus we are not capable of making any new preparation, for the important work of dying; we can make use of none of the means of grace, nor do any thing more to secure an interest in the love of God, the salvation of Christ, and the blessings of heaven.

This is a very dismal thought indeed. But the watchful Christian hath this blessedness, that he is fit to receive the sentence of death in any form; nor lethargies, nor deliriums, nor languors of nature, can` destroy the seed of grace and religion in the heart, which were sown there in the days of health; nor can any of the formidable attendants of death, cancel his former transactions with God and Christ, about his immortal concerns. That great and momentous work was done before death appeared, or any of its attendants. He was not so unwise, as to leave matters of infinite importance at that dreadful hazard: He is not now to begin to seek after a lost God, nor to begin his repentance for past sins: He is not now a stranger at the throne of grace, nor beginning to learn to pray: He is not now commencing his acquaintance with Jesus Christ his Saviour, in the midst of a tumult and hurry of thoughts and fears, nor are the works of faith, and love, and holiness, to be now begun. Dreadful work indeed, and infinitely hazardous! To begin to be convinced of sin on the borders of death, and to make our first enquiries af

ter God and heaven, upon the very brink of hell! To begin to ask for pardon, when we can live in sin no longer; to cry out, Jesus, save me, when the waves of the wrath of God, are breaking in upon the drowning soul! Hopeless condition and extreme wretchedness! To have all the hard work of conversion to go through, under the sinkings of feeble nature, and to begin the exercises of virtue and godliness, under the wild disorders of reason! What a madness is it, to leave our infinite concerns at such a horrible uncertainty !

But these are not thy circumstances, oh wakeful Christian Nor was this the case of our young departed friend, though her distemper soon discomposed her reasoning powers, and gave her very little opportunity to make a present preparation for dying. But she had heard the voice of Christ in his gospel betimes, and awoke to righteousness at his call, that she might be always ready for his summons in death. Religion was her early care, a fear to offend God, possessed and governed her thoughts and actions from her childhood, and heavenly things were her youthful choice. She had appeared for some years, in the public profession of Christianity, and maintained the practice of godliness in the church, and the world; but it began much more early in secret. Her beloved closet, and her retiring hours, were silent witnesses of her daily converse with God, and her Saviour: There she devoted her soul to her Creator betimes, according to the encouragements and rules of the gospel of Christ, and there she found peace

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and salvation. It was there she made a conscientious recollection of the sermons she heard in public, from her tender years, and left behind her these fruits of her memory, and her pen to attest, what improvements she gained in knowledge, by the ministrations of the word; and her cabinet has now discovered to us, another set of memoirs, wherein she continually observed what advances she might make in real piety by those weekly seasons of grace.

It was under these influences she maintained a most dutiful and affectionate behaviour to her honoured parents, and with filial fondness mingled with esteem, submission and reverence, paid her constant regards to the lady her mother, in her widowed estate. It was by the united principles of grace and nature, she lived with her younger sisters in uncommon harmony and friendship, as though one heart and soul animated them all. It was under these influences she ever stood upon her guard, amongst all the innocent freedoms of life, and though she did not immure herself, in the walls of a mother's house, but indulged a just curiosity to learn some of the forms of the world, the magnificence of courts, and the grandeurs of life, yet she knew how far to appear among them, and when to retire. Nor did she forbid herself all the polite diversions of youth, agreeable to her rank; nor did reason or religion, or her superior relatives forbid her; yet she was still awake to secure all that belongs to honour and virtue, nor did she use to venture to the utmost bounds, of what

sobriety and religion might allow. Danger of guilt stands near the extreme limits of innocence.

Shall I let this paper inform the world, with what friendly decency, she treated her young companions and acquaintance, how far from indulging the modish liberties of scandal on the absent, how much she hated those scornful and derisive airs, which persons on higher ground, too often assume toward those who are seated in the inferior ranks of life? Is it proper I should say, how much her behaviour won upon the esteem of all that knew her, though I could appeal to the general sorrow at her death, to confirm the truth of it? But who can forbear on this occasion, to take notice, how far she acquired that lovely character in her narrow and private sphere, which seems almost to have been derived to her by inheritance, from her honoured father, deceased, who had the tears of his country long dropping upon his tomb, and whose memory yet lives in a thousand hearts?

Such a conversation, and such a character, made up of piety and virtue, were prepared for the attacks of a fever, with malignant and mortal symptoms. Slow and unsuspected were the advances of the disease, till the powers of reason began to falter and retire, till the heralds of death had made their appearance, and spread on her bosom, their purple ensigns. When these disorders began, her lucid intervals were longer, and while she thought no person was near, she could address herself to God, and say, how often she had given herself to him; she hoped she had done it sincerely, and found acceptance with him,