Wife. Then, my dear, I am satisfied, and thankful; and if God spare me further life, I'll make thee full amends, if it be in my power; if not, my request is, let it answer all the reproaches that shall be cast upon me, after I am gone, by telling the whole world that I acknowledged it, and asked your pardon.

Husb. My dear, let it take up none of your thoughts; matters of greater moment are before thee; if thy life is in danger, as I fear, I beg of thee, my dear, look up to Him that gives life, and to whom are the issues of life and of death.

Wife. I have a sad prospect within;—a guilty soul, and a hardened heart.

Hush. But there is forgiveness with him that he may be feared; and he will take away the heart of stone, and give a beart of flesh.

Wife. But it is very late to ask it now,-very late. A sick-bed is an ill time to repent in! when the body is burdened with the force of a disease, the soul oppressed with a fearful view of eternity, and the senses seldom free to act their part!

Husb. My dear, but though it be very late, it is never too late; powerful grace is not restrained to time, nor limited by circumstances; one relenting thought sincerely cast up to heaven, one hearty wish, one returning sigh, can reach heaven. Be not afraid to cast thy soul at his feet, whose nature and property is ever to have mercy, and to forgive.

Wife. I cannot say that it is too late.

Husb. Remember then the words of our blessed Saviour himself "Be not afraid, only believe." My dear, shall I desire the minister to make thee a visit, and pray with thee? It may be God may direct him to speak something to thy

comfort.

Wife. No, my dear, those prayers of thine which I have wickedly and unkindly made my jest, shall be now my only comfort: and, as God is just, in bringing me to want thy

Y

prayers, which I too much slighted, so he is good, and may be pleased to do me good by the means that I so wickedly condemned,-that others may know the duty of so near a relation as husband and wife; and I may, if I should live, know how to value them for the future. Will you pray with me, my dear?

Husb. As well as my grief will permit me, my dear, I will with all my heart.

Upon her earnest request, her husband prayed with her; and she seemed so affected with the confession of sin, which he made to be as it were the introductory part of his prayer, that from that time forward he entertained great hopes of her being a true penitent.

He avoided being long, in respect of her weakness; but as he was never from her, either night or day, she caused him to pray with her almost every two hours, and sometimes would break out into short ejaculatory prayers herself; in which he could perceive, mingled with deep humiliation and confession, plain appearances of her having more hope of her future state, than before.

Her husband, encouraged by this, in one of his prayers, making confession of sin, mentioned something of the errors and mistakes of youth, which we are hurried into by the violence of our passions, and the violent affection with which we entertain our pleasures and vanities; and then went on to a confession of the sin of rejecting the counsel of our instructors, and refusing to stoop to the just reproofs of those to whom we are committed by the consequence of our relation, or by our dependence upon them, and to whom it is our duty to submit: thus proceeding to point out, though gently, the sin she had been guilty of, in resisting the admonitions of her parents; imploring God's pardon for it, and that her eyes might be opened to see and acknowledge it.

As soon as this prayer was over, she turned herself towards him, and reaching out her hands to him, she embraced him with great passion and earnestness, as her

strength would permit. My dear, said she, I bless God for what he has put into thy heart to say upon that subject. I am convinced I have sinned greatly in that matter of my father. I am convinced! I am convinced! repeating the words several times, with very great earnestness, and abundance of tears.

Her husband told her, he was very glad to hear her say so much, that it had lain much upon his mind to mention it to her, but that he was loth to grieve her; but he hoped, that as God had been pleased to make her sensible of the evil of it, so he would, as of old, in the case of the great penitent, David, no sooner give her a resolution to confess the sin, but add the comfort of his pardon. "I said, I will confess my transgression unto the Lord, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin."

She looked up with a kind of smile at these words, and said, God will forgive me, my dear, though my father won't. At which her husband said, my dear, if God forgive us, it is not so much to us, if others do not; but I dare say, if thy father heard thee, he would not wait for any further acknowledgment. Shall I let him know it? said her husband; I know his heart mourns for thee. My dear, said she, I am in an ill condition to ask him for forgiveness now; but if he was here, I would do it as well as I could, with all my heart. And here her tears again interrupting her, she said

no more.

Her husband found it was not proper to say much more to her at that time, her distemper being violent, so he withdrew, secretly pleased to hear her speak with so much. earnestness and concern about her father; and immediately sent a servant to her father, with a letter, to tell him he desired to see him in the morning, and withal wrote some account of the occasion. The father, though he took the news of her illness very heavily (for he still loved her very tenderly), yet receiving this part of the account with great satisfaction, came early in the morning to the house,

where his son-in-law gave him an account of all the particulars of his wife's discourse.

But it was too late; for her fever had increased upon her with so much violence in the night, that when her father came into the room, she was speechless, and to all outward appearance at the very point of death.

Her husband, though passionately afflicted at so sad a sight, yet willing to give her all the consolation he could, spoke close to her ear, that her father was come, but she did not seem to take any notice of it; he repeated it, adding, he was come to give her his blessing, and assure her, that he had forgiven all the breach between them; at which words she opened her eyes, and looked at her father; but closed them immediately, and remained speechless. My dear, said her husband, give us a sign, if you understand us; would you have your father to forgive you? (at which she lifted up her hand) and pray for thee? said her husband; at which she lifted up her hand again, and just opened her eyes, but could not speak.

This was a melancholy sight for two such near relations to bear; nor did it afford any thing more that serves to our present purpose. The father prayed by her bed-side, and gave thanks for any appearances of mercy to her soul; and committing her into the hands of her Redeemer, they retired, expecting her departing every moment.

But Providence had otherwise determined it; for though she lay in that condition two or three days, yet it pleased God, after that, the fever seemed to abate, and she came to her speech again, and in a few days more grew better, though so very weak, as made her recovery be very slow.

Now a new care and anxiety seized upon her husband, who, though truly joyful at the hopes he had of his wife's recovery, which a few days before there was no room to expect, yet he could not but be fearful, least her convictions should wear off, with a sense of her danger, as is usual in the case of death-bed repentance; and that the near

prospect of death now disappearing, her love of vanity and pleasure should return with her health; and, therefore, like one that truly loved her soul's advantage, as well as her personal welfare, he began early to put her in mind of the debt she owed to the goodness of God, which seemed to be giving her a new life, and to whom the hours she should now bestow ought to be dedicated, as given for that purpose. His often repeating these things gave occasion to the following discourse; which, though it suffered several intermissions from her weakness, yet being all to the same purpose, will be very well read as one continued dialogue. She began with her husband upon the occasion, as I have noted, of his often repeating the cautions against forgetting, after her recovering, the sense of her state, which she had upon her mind, when she was in expectation of death.

Wife. My dear, says she, I see what you are afraid of; you fear I shall forget God's goodness,to me, as soon as I am recovered.

Husb. I hope, my dear, you cannot forget neither what you are, nor what you were.

Wife. But I see plainly you are anxious about it.

Husb. My dear, do not take it ill-" We are not ignorant of satan's devices. Our adversary the devil, like a roaring lion, goes about seeking whom he may devour." We are all too subject to forget the vows of our afflicted condition; I am no otherwise afraid for thee, than as we are all apt to do so.

Wife. But has he not "snatched me as a brand out of the fire?" Zech. ii. 2.

Husb. It is true, my dear.

Wife. Has he not "ransomed me from the power of the grave?" Hosea xiii. 14.

Husb. He has, I hope, ransomed thy soul too.

Wife. "Has not my soul been precious in his sight?" 1 Sam. xxvi. 21.