praise him, I will praise him! Wonderful-gloryJesus reigns." EARLY PIETY EXEMPLIFIED IN THE HAPPY DEATH OF FRANCES ANN MYERS. On the 26th day of December, 1827, Frances Ann Myers, the only child of our brother and sister, George R. and Lucy Ann Myers, of Richmond, Va., took her joyful passage from this world of sin and sorrow to the bosom of her Father and her God. For some hours previous to her death she had been silent and composed. Her father discovering that she became a little restless asked the cause. She replied, "I wish that man to leave the room," alluding to a gentleman who had called to see her; who, upon discovering that she was not willing to unbosom herself in his presence, shook hands with her and retired. She turned to her afflicted mother, who sat upon the bed near her, and said, "Mother, I want to bid you good-by." Her mother, with a heart overwhelmed with grief, and eyes streaming with tears said, "Where are you going, my dear child?" She, with a countenance serene and sweet, said, "To heaven.""Do you want to go to heaven?" said her mother. She replied, "Yes, I am going to see Jesus." She then turned to the other side of the bed, where her aunt Hopkins stood, and said, "Good-by, Aunt Clary."Her aunt said, "Where are you going, my dear ?"-She replied, "To heaven, to see my little cousins," alluding to two of Major Hyde's little children, who had died a few days before. She then called her father, and taking him by the hand said, "Farewell."-He kissed her, and asked if she felt any pain. She said, "None;" then calling her grandfather, she bid him farewell, and said, "Are you coming to heaven?" After this she called separately upon all who were in the room, not forgetting three little coloured children, and took a final and affectionate leave of them. Her uncle Hopkins, who stood at the foot of the bed, looking on with mingled emotions of astonishment, grief, and joy, approached her, and said, "Do you know me?" She said, "Yes."- "Where are you going, my Frances?"-She replied, "To heaven." "I will try to come after you," said her uncle. She looked at him and said, "Are you not happy?" He replied, “Are you happy, my dear?" She, with a countenance strongly indicating the feelings of her heart, said, "Yes." She then sent for her three little cousins, near her own size, who she supposed were gone to the house of worship; and when they came, she kissed them and bid good-by." After having made these solemn arrangements, with a countenance unspeakably sweet and composed, and a soul filled with peace and joy, she fell asleep in Jesus, aged 8 years, 7 months, and 20 days. JOHN KERR. 66 POEMS. FRIENDS SEPARATED BY DEATH. Friend after friend departs; Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end! Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying none were blest. Beyond the flight of time, Beyond the reign of death,- There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; Form'd for the good alone: Thus star by star declines, Till all are past away; As morning high and higher shines Nor sink those stars in empty night, But hide themselves in heav'ns own light. MONTGOMERY. DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. How sweetly parts the Christian sun, Oh, where the Christian ends his days, That speaks his calm departure blest, The same beatitude of rest. EDMESTON. ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb : Thy Saviour has pass'd through its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide thro' the gloom! Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may die, for the sinless has died! Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, ON THE DEATH OF MRS. NEWTON. SHE dropp'd a tear, and grasp'd my hand, Farewell! it meant; a last adieu ! I said, "If, leaving all below, She rais'd and gently wav'd her hand, To which the wealth of sea and land, * * * Fainter her breath, and fainter grew, The soul was gone before we knew Soft was the moment, and serene, |