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ledge, and innocence. In the midst of the most ample fortune, and the veneration of all that beheld and knew her, without the least affectation, she devoted herself to retirement, to the contemplation of her own being, and of that supreme Power which bestowed it. Without the learning of schools, or knowledge of a long course of arguments, she went on in an uninterrupted course of piety and virtue; and added to the severity and privacy of the last age, all the freedom and ease of this. The language and mien of a court she was possessed of in a high degree; but the simplicity and humble thoughts of a cottage were her more welcome entertainments. She was a female philosopher, who did not only live up to the resignation of the most retired lives of the ancient sages, but also to the schemes and plans which they thought beautiful, though inimitable. This lady was the most exact economist, without appearing busy; the most strictly virtuous, without tasting the praise of it; and shunned applause with as much industry as others do reproach."

Toward the close of life she experienced great bodily affliction, having a cancer in the breast, for which she underwent an amputation. But in all her sufferings from this cause, and even under the trying operation, her religious fortitude and serenity of mind did not forsake her. The resignation of her spirit to the dispensations of Divine Providence is strongly marked by the following expressions, which dropped from her during the course of this painful distemper:-"I would not wish to be out of my present situation for all the world, nor exchange it for any other at any price."

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A short time before her departure, impressed with a strong sense of Divine goodness, she broke out, with a raised accent, in the following manner:— Lord, what is it that I see? O the greatness of the glory that is revealed in me! that is before me!"

So joyful appears to have been her entrance into the kingdom of her Lord and Saviour. She died in the year 1740.

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17. MARGARETTA KLOPSTOCK.

"When life's close knot, by writ from Destiny,
Disease shall cut, or age untie;

When, after some delays-some dying strife--
The soul stands shiv'ring on the ridge of life;
With what a dreadful curiosity

Doth she launch out into the sea of vast eternity!"
JOHN NORRIS, 1690.

THE gay followers of the present world would deem it impossible for any to contemplate death and eternity with satisfaction, unless, perhaps, they might do so whom affliction had rendered weary of life. The following narrative, however, presents a memorial of one, who, in the midst of youth and comfort, looked forward with delight to the scenes beyond the grave, and who, though blessed with tender friends below, still desired that unseen world, where dearer, better friends are enjoyed.

This lady's maiden name was Moller. In 1751 she became acquainted with the celebrated German poet, Klopstock, and they were married in 1754. Both of them appear to have been partakers of real religion. Klopstock, in early life, had made the Bible his constant companion, not perusing its sacred pages merely as a duty, but as a pleasure. She is represented to have been a highly amiable and intelligent woman. The following extracts from her correspondence with Klopstock express the pious fervours of her heart:

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The holiest thoughts harmonize with my idea of you-of you who are more holy than I am-who love our great Creator not less than I do-more I think

you cannot love Him; not more, but in a more exalted

manner.

Before I was beloved by you, I dreaded my greatest happiness; I was uneasy lest it should withdraw me from God. How much was I mistaken! It is true that adversity leads us to God; but such felicity as mine cannot withdraw me from him, or I could not be worthy to enjoy it; on the contrary, it brings me nearer to him. The sensibility, the gratitude, the joy, all the feelings attendant on happiness, make my devotion the more fervent."

The union between her and her husband was one of the most affectionate possible; alluding to her marriage, in a letter to a friend, she said, "We married, and I am the happiest wife in the world. In some few months it will be four years that I am (have been) so happy; and still I dote upon Klopstock as if he were my bridegroom." He said of her, "O she was all the happiness of my life."

Affection thus fervent, and earthly happiness thus exalted and pure, could not bind down her soul to this terrestrial scene. She still looked forward to eternity.

Four short years of connubial happiness with her beloved Klopstock flew swiftly away, and she was not permitted to complete a fifth. In a letter to him, a little more than two months before her death, she said, "God will give us what in his wisdom he sees good; and if anything be wanting to our wishes, he will teach us to bear that want."

In 1758 she had the prospect of becoming a mother. In September of that year, when, writing to her husband, who for several weeks was absent from her, she expressed some apprehensions of being removed from the present world, he replied:-"God is where you are. God is where I am. We depend entirely on him, much more entirely than is generally supposed. We

depend on him in all those things which least call our thoughts towards him. His presence preserves our breath; he has numbered the hairs of our head. My soul is now in a state of sweet composure, though mixed with some degree of sadness. O, my wife, whom God has given me, be not careful-be not careful for the

morrow."

She replied:"You must not think anything more than that I am as willing to die as to live; and that I prepare myself for both, for I do not allow myself to look on either with certainty. Were I to judge from circumstances, there is much more probability of life than of death; but I am perfectly resigned to either: God's will be done. I often wonder at the indifference I feel on the subject, when I am so happy in this world. O what is our religion! What must that eternal state be of which we know so little, while our soul feels so much! More than a life with Klopstock! It does not now appear to me so hard to leave you and our child; and I only fear that I may lose this peace of mind again, though it has already lasted eight months. 1 well know that all hours are not alike, and particularly the last; since death, in my situation, must be far from an easy death; but let the last hour make no impression on you. You know too well how much the body then presses down the soul. Let God give what he will, I shall still be happy. A longer life with you, or an eternal life with him! But can you as easily part from me as I from you? You are to remain in this world-in a world without me. You know I have always wished to be the survivor, because I well know it is the hardest to endure; but perhaps it is the will of God that you should be left, and perhaps you have most strength.

O think where I am going; and, as far as sinners can judge of each other, you may be certain that I go

there, (the humble hopes of a Christian cannot deceive,) and there you will follow me. There shall we be forever, united by love, which assuredly was not made to cease. So also shall we love our child. At first, perhaps, the sight of the child may add to your distress; but it must afterward be a great comfort to you to have a child of mine. I would wish it to survive me, though I know most people would be of a different opinion. Why should I think otherwise? Do I not intrust it to you and to God? It is with the sweetest composure that I speak of this; yet I will say no more, for perhaps it may affect you too much, though you have given me leave to speak of it. How I thank you for that kind permission! My heart earnestly wished it, but on your account I would not indulge the wish. I have done— I can write of nothing else. I am, perhaps, too serious, but it is a seriousness mixed with tears of joy."

Not long after she wrote this letter, her beloved husband returned home; but he did not long enjoy her society. The solemn event she had anticipated took place, and she entered eternity, November 28, 1758.

In giving some account of her departure her sister said: "She died as she had lived, with firm courage. She took leave of her husband, I prayed with her, and she departed in the gentlest manner. Her best, her dearest only friend, her guardian angel on earth (as her heart overflowing with the tenderest love, called him even in her last moments) was all she wished for here. He felt it, and made her happy, and the remembrance of her will be his greatest earthly happiness as long as he remains behind. In the midst of those blissful days, she passed into the infinitely superior glory of her Father and Redeemer; and her departure is mourned by many excellent friends who loved her, and who now support themselves with the hope of seeing her again. In the hour of dissolution only she seemed to feel the lot of

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