During the day, Mr. Kerr, the English consul, called, and kindly offered to take the arrangements for the funeral upon himself, informing Mr. Hamlin that the steamer for Constantinople would probably pass in the morning, the only one expected for a month. Under these circumstances, the funeral could not be deferred.

"I placed her gently in the coffin, and O, how impossible to break from the last fond gaze! The rough Greeks screwed down the lid; but I made them open it again, and they wept while I looked once more. And then we went and buried her in the sands of Rhodes."

It was at half-past three that they bore that lovely and beloved form to its lonely grave in the Greek church-yard, attended by Chevalier Hedenborg, the English, Russian and Danish consuls, with some of their friends. The Greek bishop proposed to come out in procession with his clergy, but with many thanks Mr. Hamlin declined the offer, and apparently without giving offence. The English consul read the funeral services, and then the coffin was lowered into the grave. The poor children fell upon their father's neck, and bedewing him with tears exclaimed, "We have nobody to love and nobody to love us now but you! Not many eyes in that circle of foreign but sympathizing friends beheld without tears this touching scene.

Shall we follow them, as they return to their desolate home? Ah, my brother, my brother! the light of thy dwelling is put out, and thou sittest in darkness and sorrow. Well mayst thou say, "All thy waves and billows are gone over me." Who but the compas

sionate Saviour can minister balm to thy wounded

- spirit?

Breathe a farewell to thy heart's cherished idol !
Press on her forehead the seal of thy love!
Clasp in thine own the cold hand she extendeth, —
Angels are waiting to bear her above.

Woe for thee, mourner! The cup thou art draining —
Woe for its dregs that thy pale lips have quaffed!
Weep, O my brother! unchannel thy sorrow!
Life bringeth never a bitterer draught.

Look on her now, in the death-sleep reposing!
Close thou forever those love-beaming eyes;
Smooth her dark tresses, -O, tenderly, softly,
Culling one lock as thy heart's treasured prize!

Lovely in death! How serenely she sleepeth!
Holy the smile is that beams on her brow;
Sealed there by Peace, that dear angel celestial,
On whose placid bosom she slumbereth now.

Wave, O thou banner, thy mournful death-symbol!
Fling thy broad folds to the sorrowing breeze!
Utter aloud that lone mourner's bereavement;
Tell his sad tale to the tall cypress-trees!

Place her, O gently, within her lone coffin;
Look yet again, ere the dark grave enfold ;
Rough-moulded Greeks in strange sorrow are weeping,
Gazing on anguish unfathomed, untold.

Bear her loved form to its place of sepulture;
Heap the light sands on her cold, silent breast;
On the sea-breaking shore reposeth she sweetly,
Worn and way-weary there let her rest!

Woe for thee now in thy desolate dwelling!

Woe for thy yearnings, so hopeless and vain! Woe for thy clinging, thy motherless children! Fast fall their tears, and bedew thee like rain.

Dearest Redeemer! O, pity their sorrow!

Where but to Thee can these weeping ones go?

Bear on thy bosom the soul-stricken father,
As o'er him are breaking the billows of woe!

Leave her alone on the fair rocky islet!

There dasheth ever the white-crested surge; Balmy the air is, and warm the sweet sunshine, Ocean-waves chanting her low, mournful dirge.

VICTORY OF FAITH.

"As my eye grows dim

And darkens on this fading sphere,
I see the smiling seraphim

Wax more and more resplendent there;
And as my ear grows deaf and dull
To the vain sounds of earthly art,

The music soft and beautiful

Of heaven absorbs my raptured heart.”

J. BOWRING.

HAVING followed the dear departed through conflict to victory, we can but look back with admiring gratitude upon the discipline of her heavenly Father in thus preparing her for himself. As some of the missionaries have since remarked, her struggles and her triumphs seemed peculiarly designed to teach her missionary sisters how to die and leave their children with God.

Endowed by nature with many attractive qualities, it was yet the grace of God early engrafted upon them which awakens our enduring interest, and embalms her memory as blessed in the hearts of all who knew her. It elevated and refined what was before lovely; it overcame the morbid tendencies of her mind, turning all her impulses and sentiments into a healthful and beneficent channel; it strengthened her for a self-consecration to the noblest of causes, and gave her calmness and peace when forsaking friends and country for Christ; it sustained her through all the difficulties and perplexities of her first years of missionary life, as also in the arduous duties and responsibilities of its later

years. All this it did, purifying and perfecting her sweet natural excellences, adorning her with the peculiar gifts and graces of the Spirit, and shedding over her whole character the lustre and beauty of holiness and heaven. Nor was this all.

In a conflict of soul than which few ever experienced a severer, when the streaming light of eternity revealed to her. God's ineffable holiness, and, in contrast, the sins of her own heart and life, how signal through grace was her triumph! And in that agonized wrestling of spirit, in those importunate yearnings of nature, which cried unto God day and night for life,life in behalf of her weeping, clinging children, who, standing upon the shores of Time, would detain her there, how are those restless pleadings hushed into the calm of sweetest submission! Still there is a region not yet attained. Doubts and fears at times oppress her.

1

It is here that the merciful Father undertakes for her complete deliverance. She is led to the solemn gates of Death; the King of Terrors confronts her;

"The cold and pale

Cloud-curtains of the unseen land"

are lifting slowly before her. She at first closes her eyes as if to shut out the view of its overpowering realities; she shrinks from the thought of so soon meeting the almighty and adorable Judge, now calling her into the mysterious spirit-world. Who can tell the fearfulness of that strife? But, in this contest between the powers of darkness and the redeeming Spirit, the issue is not doubtful. She makes a new and full surrender of herself to her Saviour, and clasps his cross to her heart. Her tired spirit thus lays itself in the arms of the infinite and unchanging Father, and his promises are now