Her anxiety on behalf of the salvation of her children was intense.  Her efforts were commenced with the first dawn of intelligence, and continued with unremitting ardour until they were rewarded with success.  By timely instruction and caution, by counsel and expostulation, by warning and reproof, by a godly discipline, by frequent letters in which the “one thing” was never forgotten; by prayers and supplications mingled with tears, as they knelt alone at her side; by intercessions offered day and night in secret on their behalf; by enforcing the punctual observance of religious duties, such as reading the word, family devotion, and public worship; and by her own pure example, she never ceased to train them in the way that they should go.  But her chief strength lay in ceaseless and effectual prayer, which was urged in the spirit of him who said, “I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me.”  Is it wonderful, if her children and grandchildren are found walking in the truth?  For many successive years, she was accustomed to address to each a few lines on the anniversary of their birth.  These were always replete with godly counsels, and wisely suited to the age and circumstances of the individual.  The periodical effusion was anxiously looked for, and highly prized.  To our young imaginations, the productions of her pen glowed with all the fire of Milton, and flowed with all the softness and melody of Spenser; and if a riper judgement has robbed us of the pleasing fancy, it has been at least replaced by the grateful conviction that they were the overflowings of a mother’s heart, and by the blessing of God, contributed in a great measure to give an early bias in favour of religious truth.  A specimen written at this time is here inserted.

  TO MY RICHARD.

  Unuttered feelings glow within my heart,
    Ah! in what language can I paint them best? 
  That you, my darling boy, may know a part,
    Unconscious of what fills a mother’s breast.

  Childlike and innocent your actions are,
    No thought of guile as yet within your breast;
  Alas! the wily foe, not lurking far,
    May soon corrupt and desecrate your rest.

  Might I unveil the snares, that scattered round,
    Beset your path from childhood to old age;
  But Love allwise, in mystery profound,
    Has hid in darkness all the varied page.

  Be it sufficient, grace is ever nigh;
    If in the path of rectitude you tread,
  No ill shall harm you; you will soon descry
    The tempter’s snare, however deeply laid.

  Choose virtue, Richard, shun the path of vice,
    Let not ungodly youth your mind ensnare;
  Take this wise caution, “If they would entice,
    Consent thou not;” be sure that sin is there.

  Walk with the wise, that you may wiser grow;
    Let age teach wisdom, hear it with respect;
  It can in time forwarn, and danger show,
    Where you no secret mischief may suspect.