Her funeral was a scene from which many went away rejoicing in God; and not a few date new progress in the Christian life from it, by means of the new and striking illustration which they there had of the Saviour’s power and love.  The Choir struck the key note of heaven in their opening strains, by chanting, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing.”  They gave us, too, her favorite song, by which she was remembered in several circles, at home and abroad, before she was sick, and the words of which, now, seem to have had a prophetic meaning from her lips:—­

    “I’m a pilgrim, and I’m a stranger;
    I can tarry, I can tarry but a night;”—­

which was sung at the funeral with a sweetness which added much to the associations with it in our minds; and in the closing hymn, how strange it seemed, at a funeral, to hear the singers, though by our own request and though in accordance with all which had passed, bid us

    “Proclaim abroad his name,
    Tell of his matchless fame,
      What wonders done! 
    Shout through hell’s dark profound,
    Let the whole earth resound,
    Till the high heavens rebound,
      The victory’s won;”—­

and to hear them, as they cried one to another, saying,—­

    “All hail the glorious day,
    When, through the heavenly way,
      Lo, He shall come;
    While they who pierced him wail;
    His promise shall not fail;
    Saints, see your King prevail;
      Come, dear Lord, come.”

For those ministrations of love and tenderness in the last, sad offices to the dead, which no wealth could buy, repeated now by some of the same hands several times in my dwelling, there are no words of gratitude adequate to the great debt of love.  The mothers of my church, who met weekly with her mother for prayer, remembered her child, and provided nurses for her, to her own unspeakable comfort and our great relief.  Friends and strangers, touched with her protracted sickness, poured blessings around her couch; fruits, in their season, and when out of their season, of what almost unearthly beauty! and flowers which, with the fruits, made that sick room seem like the garden which the Lord planted in Eden.  Such have been the alleviations of pain and suffering, the comforts, and even the pleasures, and above all the rich spiritual consolations and joys, and the more than conquering faith of the dying hour,—­such a union in all this of Jesus and his friends,—­that I have made the case of the ruler of the synagogue mine, of whom, as he went to his afflicted house, it is said, “And Jesus arose and followed him, and so did his disciples.”  They will go wherever Jesus leads the way; and he will lead the way wherever there is a lamb to be folded in his bosom.