ent I give myself to Thee. O let me henceforth be
Thy devoted servant, willing at all times to yield my will to Thine!
Dost Thou say to me, 'I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee;
yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness?' Then
it is enough. I am the Lord's, and He is mine. Blessed union! God is
love; I feel it now.

"1838. In converse with my friends, I have endeavoured to keep a
conscience void of offence, and to walk in simplicity before the Lord;
but Oh! when viewed in the glass of God's law, how deficient! Yet will
I aim at the perfect model.--This morning, a young man named Calvert,
who is going as a missionary to the South Seas, called upon us. With
him I sent a letter to my Richard, having sat up the previous night
writing, and little thinking I should have such an opportunity of
sending it. Old feelings revived in my breast; but after he was gone,
while musing about my son and the perils of missionary life, these
words were sweetly applied: 'It is not the will of your Father in
heaven, that one of these little ones should perish.'--The box sent to
Richard, which has been lost for three months, is just found in proper
time to go with a missionary bound for the same islands. There is
a providence unseen by us, whose watchful eye protects the minutest
interests of His own; 'Even the very hairs of your heads are all
numbered.'--Informed that poor Mrs. W. was fast sinking, I hastened
to see her; she was struggling with her last enemy, but smiling in His
grasp. When told that she would soon join in singing 'Hallelujah,'
she smiled and said. 'Yes;' and shortly after exchanged mortality for
life."

MY FRIEND'S DEPARTURE.

How solemn was the room!
How still that scene of death!
My friend 'mid twilight gloom,
Lay gasping hard for breath;
The death dews on her temples stood;
She smiled adieu, and crossed the flood.

Angels were hov'ring round,
And breathing incense there;
Almost I heard the sound
Of wings upon the air;
Light as the breeze, and clear as light,
Her happy spirit took its flight.

Back on that solemn hour
My thoughts are often cast;
Be mine such faith and power
To triumph at the last;
With smiles to meet my latest foe,
And die eternal life to know.

I am like Noah's dove. The world is a dreary waste of waters without
anything upon which I can set my foot. My friends are dying, and
disappointments common.--Wrote to