Sweet to look back and see my name

In life's fair book set down;
Sweet to look forward and behold

Eternal joys my own.

Sweet to reflect how grace divine

My sins on Jesus laid;

Sweet to remember that his blood-
My debt of suff'ring paid.

Sweet in his righteousness to stand,
Which saves from second death;
Sweet to experience day by day,
His Spirit's quick'ning breath.

Sweet on his faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end;
Sweet on his covenant of grace
For all things to depend.

Sweet in the confidence of faith
To trust his firm decrees;
Sweet to lie passive in his hands
And know no will but his.

If such the sweetness of the streams,

What must the fountain be,

Where saints and angels draw the bliss
Immediately from Thee?

She repeated the two last lines of every verse with eyes directed to heaven, as expressive of their coincidence with her views. She had frequently in the course of her sickness, given animated exhortations to her children and others to make choice of God for their portion, and

also particular directions how to manage the family after she was gone. About four o'clock, P.M. June 10th, 1811, she asked her husband and children if they were willing to give her up. They evaded the question; but she in direct terms informed them that she had sometimes felt a repugnance to death on their accounts, but assured them, that God had now made her entirely willing to give them all up; and in about an hour after expired.

APPENDIX, No. 1.

LETTERS FROM HENRY LAURENS TO MARTHA

LAURENS.

Philadelphia, August 18, 1771.

My dearest Patsy, remember my precepts, be dutiful, kind, and good to your aunt; learn to prevent all her wishes and commands; you can do so if you please. God has blessed you with sufficient abilities. Let all your reading, your study, and your practice tend to make you a wise and a virtuous woman, rather than a fine lady; the former character always comprehends the latter; but the modern fine lady, according to common acceptation, is too often found to be deficient both in wisdom and virtue. Strive then, my dearest girl, to be virtuous, dutiful, affable, courteous, modest; and be assured that you will become a fine lady. Set God before your eyes, my dear child; pray to him; place your whole confidence in him; and strive to do his will; so shall you never be dismayed.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

Westminster, May 18, 1774.

MY DEAR PATSY,

I HAVE recollected your request for a 'pair of globes; therefore I have wrote to Mr. Grubb to ship a pair of the best eighteen inch, with caps and a book of directions, and to add a case of neat instruments, and one dozen Middleton's best pencils, marked M. L. directed to your uncle, who will deliver them to you. When you are measuring the surface of this world, remember you are to act a part on it; and think on a plumb pudding,* and other domestic duties.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

Charleston, S. C. Feb. 29, 1776.

MY DEAR DAUGHTER,

WHEN I look around me, and behold increasing preparations for civil war; every man

The pleasantry about the plumb pudding, had its effect. Miss Laurens made a pudding before she began to make use of her globes, and profited by the hint, that the knowledge of housewifery was as much a part of female education as a knowledge of geography. EDITOR.

seeming bent and determined to carry those preparations into execution to the last extremity; when, therefore, I consider our estates in this country, as being on the very precipice of bankruptcy, how can I forbear lamenting, what will become of my dear sister, what will become of my dear Patsy and Polly in case of my brother's death? Not only tears, but irresistible groans, accompany this afflicting inquiry; after a moment's pain, I console myself by this reply" God will take care of them; that God who led your ancestors through a cruel persecution, and through a wilderness, a hundred years ago, and you through ten thousand dangers, will not forsake your sister nor your children. Your brother will do well, and be made the guardian of your fatherless children after you are slaughtered." My dear child, I could fill pages with accounts of causes for lamentation; but alas, what good fruit would such accounts produce? I will not grieve your young yeart by a recital of afflictions which are the portion of age, and which I ought to bear alone. Nevertheless, it is my duty to warn you again, as I did in my last letter, to prepare yourself for a reverse of fortune, prepare for the trial of earning your daily bread by daily labour. This, whether it be matter of affliction, whether it be a subject for grief or not, will according to present appearances be your