for me-Yet glory and honour to God for ever and ever-for ever and ever-I now have nothing to do but to depart. The world is nothing-is nothing—I want to go now-Glory and honour be ascribed to God and the Lamb for ever and ever." Said I, you may expect soon to meet some of your friends who are gone before; "Yes," said she, "I am now going." I then asked whether the fear of death was entirely removed, "Yes, said she, "Glory to God, I mind it no more than laying on this bed, I have no doubt but the Lord has finished his work, and I am fit to go." Turning to a female friend, she said, "O, Margaret! I shall look out for you-I shall hail you thereI should like to see all my friends once more, but I would much rather die now than live, as I am now prepared, and should I live longer I might never be so well prepared again. I am ready, bless God-I shall outride the storms and hurricanes, and shall soon be gone.' A few verses of a hymn were then sung in which she joined. When we sung,

"I gaze on my treasure, and long to be there, With angels my kindred, and Jesus my dear." She cried aloud, "there I shall join with them I am going from suffering to reward. O glory, glory and honour to God and the Lamb for ever and ever!"

Said she to her mother and sister, "0 don't be crying around me, for I shall soon be out of a great deal of troubleglory and honour to God for ever and ever; tell all my friends that I am going, and that I have went safe-Oh me, I can't talk-Why, bless the Lord, mother, you ought to be glad-you ought all to be glad-yes indeed-yes indeed." Contrary to her expectations she was not taken at that time, but lingered out a few days longer. The last interview I had with her was two days before her decease: I inquired again whether she was still happy in the Lord, and ready to die. "Yes," said she, "glory to God, I am not afraid. Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly." I asked her whether she wished me to pray with her again; she said yes--What do you want me to pray for, said I. "O," said she, "pray that the Lord may send and take me to himself, for I am ready and waiting and long to go." In this happy state she continued till her tongue was silenced by the cold hand of death, but when she could no longer speak she raised her hands as in token of victory till she fell asleep in Jesus. May the Lord grant that my last hours may be like hers. ELI HENKLE.

Fell's-Point, Baltimore city,

October 10th, 1822.

DEATH OF SARAH H. BLACK.
To the Editors of the Methodist Magazine.

DEAR BRETHREN, By inserting the following short memoir in our Magazine, a number of the friends of the deceased will be edified, and the serious reader may be instructed.

L. MYERS.

SARAH H. BLACK, was born in Beau- which a detail might be given. This is fort District, South-Carolina, A. D. 1785, of industrious and respectable parents. They early taught her the fear of the Lord, and she as early embraced those instructions with filial submission.

the more to be regretted, as a blank is hereby produced on a most interesting period of life, and in her history perhaps no less so, than her early or better days. Suffice it to say, she married, and beAbout the age of twelve or thirteen, came a mother; and as she was early she was placed by her parents in a res- taught to fear the Lord, so she also To the truth of pectable female seminary, in the city of taught her children. Charleston. She applied herself with this, they with their father, bear amsuch avidity and delight, that she very ple testimony. quickly attained to a considerable pro- But it was not till within three years ficiency in all the branches of a female of her death, that she became fully education. Having also learned the art awake to a necessity of that change of of self-government, she rendered herself heart, which unites the soul to God agreeable to the aged as well as to the through the Redeemer. When she thus young. Her manners were so amiable discovered her want of this divine princiand engaging, that she became much endeared to her school-mates and acquaintances.

From this period to within a few years of her death, the writer of this sketch is not furnished with materials, from

ple, she sought the Lord with earnestness of soul. Her heart-felt sorrow became manifest, by "strong cries and tears." She could no longer rest deprived of the ordinances of the church of Christ, and therefore anxiously desired the privilege

of every means of grace. For although supporter. The cent collection for Mis brought up under the rules of the Pro- sionary purposes having been intro, testant Episcopal Church, there being duced, she was the first who gave it patno congregation of that order that she ronage in Blackswamp circuit. could attend, she was destitute of its But she had no sooner fully engaged ministrations. In October, 1820, she at- in the work of evangelical piety and betended a Camp-Meeting; and there, nevolence, than it pleased God to visit without any invitation, came forward her with the forerunners of a final sum alone, in the midst of a gazing crowd, mons from time. With the commenceresolutely offered herself to the Lord, ment of this year her affliction progressand requested to be taken into commu- ed with increasing speed. The scene nion with his people. Her application became trying. Among her last friendwas accompanied with such deep con- ly and pious visitors, was John M'Trail, trition, and expressed such Christian a worthy local preacher. To him, with courage, that the whole congregation ap- her family, she unfolded her mind, expeared struck with solemn awe. She pressed an unlimited confidence in her was received as a member of the Meth- Redeemer, and complete triumph over odist Episcopal Church. approaching death. Could tears of an afflicted husband and affectionate children, have snatched her from the jaws of death, she would still be alive. But God had provided a better place for her; and on the 18th of March, 1822, he took her to himself.

Continuing instant in prayer, giving herself unreservedly to her Lord and Saviour, the love of God was soon shed abroad in her heart, and she was enabled to rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

The welfare of her family now lay with increased weight upon her heart. The reader may easily gather her She prayed with, as well as for them, character in the different relations of and solemnly dedicated them to her God life, from the foregoing hints, without and their God, in the holy ordinance of repeating them here. We only add, in baptism; and her conduct afterwards her death, the church has lost a useful expressed how much she regarded the member, the poor a kind benefactress, sacred offering. Nor was she unmind- and society in general one of its brightful of her surrounding neighbours; ac- est ornaments: To her much afflicted cording to her ability she was engaged husband and children what God alone in doing good to their bodies and souls. can repair. In her the honest poor always found a friend. Rejoicing with those who rejoiced, she also wept with those who wept. Experimentally knowing the benefits of the gospel, she was its liberal

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She was conveyed to an old family burial place, remote from her residence, and their deposited to rest from care and woe until the morning of the resurrection.

Poetry.

For the Methodist Magazine.
Reflections on the anniversary of a brother's death.
Friendship! Mysterious tie! the circling year
Again calls forth the soul to weep the hand
That struck thy bonds asunder. Yet, wherefore?
Shall we mourn for those who, struggling long
With time's tempestuous billows, at length
Have reach'd that shore where storms can never
come?

Shall we weep for him who, like a fruitful tree,
Flourish'd unfading here, and cheer'd the vale
With heav'nly fragrance, and is gather'd to
A happier clime? Unwither'd by the sun,
His leaf was green; for round his root there flow'd,
Those streams of life which, with unceasing joy,
Make glad the city of our God? But ah!
The winter loiter'd round him; and sudden,
When his fruit was ripe, and faith, and hope
and zeal,

Hung on each bough, and cheer'd the gazer's eye,
The whirlwind came, bore him triumphant
From us, and clouds of death curtain'd him from
Our sight. Yet are we told that on the banks
Of life's fair river, "fast by the throne of God,"
He blooms for ever more. There all is health
And peace. Calm and serene as Autumn's
Setting sun, the hours glide gently by, nor
Fear an end. No pestilential vapour

Wanders o'er those fields, but odours sweet as
From India's groves perfume the heavenly air,
those
And ever-during verdure spreads around.
Yes, yes, my brother, we shall meet thee there:-
After a little ling'ring moment spent
In toil and pain, with golden pinions we
Shall wing our way unto the realms of light,
And with thee cast our crowns at Jesu's feet!
At Jesu's feet! at that triumphant name I feel
A kindling rapture steal throughout my soul!
Rais'd by his hand, I mount above the world;
Its riches, honours, pleasures, all recede,
And heavenly glories burst upon my sight.
So Stephen, when the malice of his foes
Had thrust him near the tearful gates of death,
Sudden the portals open'd, and the clouds,
Which veil from mortal view the upper world,
Strait roll'd away, and lo! his Saviour's smile
Beam'd on his head, filling his soul with love
E'en to the murd'rous crew; for whom he sigh'
An earnest prayer, he gently fell asleep.
He too is safe, but I a little space

Must bide the pelting" of the storms of life.
Short space indeed! E'en now methinks I see
Life's morning flowrets wither in my hand;
My sun has reach'd its noon and now apace
Declines. The shadows of the night gather
O'er all the plain, and in the lonely tomb,
Where David sleeps, I soon shall rest in peace,
A. H.