and grief, found her in dying circumstances.  She died the same evening.  I fear for her; yet she used to weep, and for a time seemed in earnest.  Have visited her many times in her afflictions.—­Calling in at a neighbour’s shop for a trifling article, I learned that the daughter was depressed in mind; I felt a desire to see her, and asked permission, which was granted.  After saying what was given me, I prayed with her, feeling sweetly assisted:  when we arose from our knees she unburthened her mind, and told me she had ‘grieved the Spirit’ and now, not feeling His strivings, she had ceased to pray, and had given, up all.  O that the Lord may bring her out of this snare of the devil!”

  Hark, how they strike their harps of gold
    In yonder world above! 
  I wonder what its scenes unfold,—­
  For not a thousandth part is told,
    Of those bright lands of love,

  Not long-ere wonder shall expire,
    In sweet fruition lost;
  My spirit, borne on wings of fire,
  Shall mount, and revel, and admire,
    With all the heavenly host.

“1855.—­A letter reached us from my beloved Richard, bringing tidings of health, both of body and soul, and of his intended removal to Auckland; but holding out little prospect of his return to England, by the words ’if ever.’ Thus is long cherished hope cut off, when I thought it about to be realized.”

[About the beginning of this year she had a severe attack of bronchitis, and all hope of her recovery seemed cut off.  Although able to say little, she maintained a calm and settled confidence in God, and was evidently longing after home.  The morning after the crisis was past, the doctor said to her, ’Well, Mrs. Lyth, I have some hope of you.’  She replied, ‘So have I, but it is the other way.’]

“After a sudden and severe attack of affliction, I would most gratefully acknowledge the merciful care of my heavenly Father, who has not left me, but comforted me by His word and Spirit.  My friends also have not forgotten me; I have every comfort during this inclement season.  The earth is covered with snow, the cold piercing, and the day gloomy; but mercy folds me in on every side, and my spirit rests on Jesus, my atoning Saviour.  While I write, my heart warms and kindles at His love.—­I am left alone this eighteenth of February, which, forty-five years ago, was so important.  Well, it is written, ’Thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of hosts is His name.’ and to Him will I plight my vows.  Alone, on my knees, I again surrender to Thee my poor heart, and again take the pledge of Thy love.  From this time forth may I swerve from Thee no more, but walk my few remaining days with Thee; having the testimony that Enoch had, that I please God.  And now I am Thine by solemn ties, in the solemn silence of Thy presence, all praise be unto Thee, who dost thus condescend to Thy dust.—­Have just returned from a drive.  The air is very sweet, and nature puts forth her loveliness.