Dear Children

I wish to give you a short

account of one who was young like you, but now

sleeps in the cold grave: nature has ceased its

struggles, the wheels of life have come to a pause.

Sarah, my daughter, of whom I am about to

tell you, was from her earliest days, a child of

great affliction. She lived to the age of ten

years, but never enjoyed good health. She was

very patient, in all her sufferings never once 

complained, but seemed to think it was all right.

She was not only a child of suffering, but a 

praying child. She commenced at an early period

 of her life, about as soon as she could talk, and

 was very punctual, and scarcely ever forgot to


She delighted much in singing the Advent

hymns, and not only with her voice, but she

would sing with the Spirit. I have sat by her

side when in meeting and witnessed the falling

tear when joining with us in singing, and her

 little heart would be so full she would be obliged

to stop. Often have I listened with joy to hear

her praise the Lord. When only five years old,

in prayer-meetings and around the family altar

she might be heard lisping the praises of her

Saviour from a full soul. It was evident that

she felt all that she expressed. Some will tell us

little children do not realize what they say, it is

 what they learn from others; but little children

 can love and serve the Lord. Sarah loved the 

Lord, and she delighted to praise him often in 

meeting and around the altar when bowed in 

prayer. She was not satisfied with loving the 

Lord herself, but she wanted her mates to serve

 him too, and would ask them if they prayed, and

 if not, she would get them down upon their 

knees and tell them they must pray. She was

 very conscientious, and acted from principle;

 was careful to tell things as they were; was 

very affectionate to her parents, especially her

 mother who was her constant companion in 

hours of sickness; and she was never more 

happy than when by my side reading or singing.

 She was beloved by all,

but none loved her better than her mother: none

could miss her as much as myself.

"I mourn thee, love, when at the hour of prayer,

I miss thy little form, beside me there."

She was taken with her last sickness about the

first of September 1849, and died February 20th,

1850. Her sufferings the last ten hours she lived

were great, so much so that we thought her mind

would be taken up, and would hardly think of

any thing but her distress. I said to her a few

moments before she died, Sarah, do you pray

now? Her reply was, Yes; and thus you see she

did not forget to call on the Lord in the hour of


Now, young reader, live a praying life, that

should you be called away by death as she was,

you can descend the dark valley with your trust

 in Christ, that he will raise you with all that 

sleep in Jesus. We often think of her when we

 take your little sheet. How she would have liked

 to read it if living. We almost at times wish her

 back that she might keep the Sabbath with us;

but we hope to keep it with her in the kingdom.

"I have seen thee pass from earth away.

As fadeth the light of a Summer day."

Your friend, 


Ware, Dec.2lst, 1854.


The New Year.

ANOTHER year is born,

The past has fled and gone.

Ne'er to return.

Still on the earth am I,

Bound to eternity,

A land unknown.

The sun awoke the spring,

And winter's hoary king,

Fled far away.

Yet, living on the earth,

I sing the new year's birth

With joyful lay.

Then sultry summer came,

Its verdant reign to claim;

Spring disappeared.

Till now to praise that Power,

Who paints each summer flower,

My life is spared.

Then autumn's frigid breath

Despoiled of green the earth;

Summer was o'er.

O, may I love that grace,

Which has sustained my race,

Yet more and more.

And winter now, again,

Begins his icy reign;

Autumn has past.

Tremble, my soul, and fear; 

This present, fleeting year,

May be thy last.