more was added to the multitude which no man can number,' who sing the praises of God and of the Lamb forever and ever." 3. FELICIA HEMANS. FELICIA HEMANS is well and widely known as one of the sweetest and most impassioned of our domestic poets. There was about her the charm of exquisite sensibility and high principles; and her poems, though sometimes over-wrought, were regulated by noble feeling and almost perfect taste. She was early acquainted with sorrow; it left its traces in nearly every page she wrote; but she had learned to trust in Him who "healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." Her death was truly Christian. Her attendant writes of her," She ever seemed to me as a wanderer from her heavenly Father's mansion, who knew too much of that home to seek a resting-place here. She often said to me, I feel like a tired child, wearied, and longing to mingle with the pure in heart.' At other times she would say, 'I feel as if I were sitting with Mary at the feet of my Redeemer, hearing the music of his voice, and learning of him to be meek and lowly.' And then she would say, 'O, Anna, do you not love your kind Saviour? The plan of redemption was indeed a glorious one; humility was indeed the crowning work. I am like a quiet babe at his feet, and yet my spirit is full of his strength. When anybody speaks of his love to me, I feel as if they were too slow; my spirit can mount alone with him into those blissful realms with far more rapidity.' "I cannot tell you how much I suffer,' she wrote in pencil, as weakness gained upon her, 'nor what a state of utter childlike weakness my poor wasted limbs are reduced to. But my mind is, as I desired Charlie to tell you, in a state of the deepest resignation; to which is now added a warm thankfulness to God for this his latest mercy.' She enjoyed the greatest peace, nor would she allow any tones of commiseration to be employed before her. No poetry,' she said, 'could express, nor imagination conceive, the visions of blessedness that flitted across her fancy, and made her waking hours more delightful than those even that were given to temporary repose.' She continually spoke of the unutterable comfort she derived from dwelling on the contemplation of the atonement. To one friend, for whom she dreaded the influence of adverse opinions, she sent a solemn exhortation, earnestly declaring that this alone was 'her rod and staff,' when all earthly supports were failing. To another she desired the assurance might be given, that the tenderness and affectionateness of the Redeemer's character, which they had often contemplated together, was now a source, not merely of reliance, but of positive happiness to herthe sweetness of her couch.' Mrs. Hemans had ever loved flowers: they were to her the poetry of nature; they expressed to her the delightful truth that "God is love." Her sick room was always adorned with them; and they were expressive of the gentle kindness of those who daily furnished them for the couch of sickness. In a note, thanking a friend for one of these acts of consideration, she said, "I have been sorry, in one sense, to hear that you have latterly been so great a sufferer; and I can indeed sympathize with you in many of the trying feelings attendant on a broken and declining state of health. But, as I believe I am writing to one who has 'tasted that the Lord is gracious,' and has been given to know something of that love that passeth knowledge, I almost feel as if it were wrong to say I am sorry that a gracious, and compassionate, and faithful Saviour, is fulfilling to you his own precious promise, 'As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten."" This was the true description of her own feeling. Her poetical faculty was strong to the last, and on her death-bed she dictated to her brother "The Sabbath Sonnet." She describes the blessedness of the groups who, on that day, were seeking the house of God: "I may not tread With them those pathways-to the feverish bed Her friend, Dr. Croker, whom she called "a physician and a pastor," often read to her, and, among other things, some of the writings of Archbishop Leighton. "The last time of her listening to it, she repeatedly exclaimed, Beautiful! beautiful!' and, with her eyes upraised, seemed occupied in communing with herself, and mentally praying." At last, in a gentle slumber, she departed. Her end was in exquisite accordance with her life, and her own lines, inscribed on her epitaph, "Calm, on the bosom of thy God, 4. CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. "A path that must be trod, If man would ever pass to God." CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH, another gifted authoress, is worthy of mention in this connexion. She, too, had been lacerated by domestic sorrow; and she, too, was sustained by the all-supporting power of evangelical Christianity. During many years she had maintained herself and her mother by the profits of her pen; and her last work, "War with the Saints," was composed after the seizure of her fatal illness, and by the help of machinery which enabled her to write while in a reclining posture. Previous to this time she had lost her first husband, whose name was Phelan, and became the wife of Mr. L. H. J. Tonna. Her disease was cancer. In her last moments she exemplified the presence of the religion she had so vigorously maintained in opposition to Roman Catholic heresies. As Ramsgate was selected in the hope that a change to the sea-side might prove beneficial, she was removed with some difficulty to the railway. She acknowledged some special regulations made for her comfort during her journey, exclaiming, "How good the Lord is to make every one so kind to me!" and, as soon as the door of the carriage was closed, she prompted her husband and servant to kneel beside her, and to ask that she might be upheld during her journey. As she passed the new Roman Catholic Cathedral, lately opened in St. George's Fields, she demonstrated the force of her religious convictions by crying out at the sight of it, and in the Hebrew language, which she was accustomed to use, “O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed!" On the next morning, her disease, having reached an artery, caused a large loss of blood. She was tranquil and resigned, saying, "It is the love of Jesus that sustains me." Her faintness was very great, and her situation most alarming. She exclaimed, "Flesh and heart fail me, but Jesus does not fail me!" To her medical attendant she said, "Do you love the Lord Jesus?" and on receiving a mark of assent, was gratified. Requesting those around her to pray, she added, "Pardon and acceptance; nothing more.' "Jesus," she said, "upheld her he was her hope and her refuge." As the powers of nature became exhausted, a marked change betokened the approach of death. "It is death!" said the sufferer.* She seemed to feel no pain; no sigh or groan escaped her; her countenance was perfectly calm, tranquil, and happy; and she kept her eyes steadily fixed on her husband, followed his every motion, and showing uneasiness if, for a moment, he moved from her side. Life seemed slowly ebbing away. 66 Once again her eyes brightened; her husband was leaning over her, and throwing her arm round his neck, and pressing his lips to hers, she exclaimed, with intense emphasis, 'I love you!' 66 'All thought that these were her last words; but it soon became evident that she was gathering her remaining strength for a last effort; and then, with death in every look and tone, gasping between each word, but with a loud, clear, distinct voice, she uttered these words, Tell them,' naming some dear Jewish friends, 6 -'tell them, that Jesus is the Messiah; and tell -her hand had forgotten its cunning; her tongue was cleaving to the roof of her mouth; but Charlotte Similar were the last words of George IV.-uttered with feelings how different! |