soul thy days are ended;" "What are these array'd in white;" "Vital spark of heavenly flame," &c, her smiling countenance beamed forth with heavenly delight; while with her dying breath she almost continually replied, "Yes, yes." When she could speak no longer, she raised her dying hands in token of victory, till she clasped them in death! while she seemed to have a view of the heavenly convoy, that were ready to escort her happy spirit home to her eternal rest!! This seemed particularly evident when those lines were repeated out of the hymn, called, "The dying Christian," namely,

"Heaven opens on my eyes, my ears
With sounds seraphic ring;

Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly!
O grave! where is thy victory?
O death! where is thy sting?"

Having had a knowledge of ABIGAIL EAMES, the deceased, for the space of fifteen years; I think it my duty and privilege to say something in behalf of my endeared friend, who is gone from works to an eternal reward! In 1805, we became intimately acquainted, and engaged with the arduous work of the Lord Jesus, in visiting the poor house, bridewell, state's prison, and the sick. Abigail Eames was to me, as Joshua was to Moses; for she lifted up my spiritual hands by faith and silent prayer!

Many strove to separate us, but our souls could not be divided; neither our bodies, till death made the breach by closing her mortal eyes! I found in her (who is gone! gone! to glory!) a mother, sister, daughter, and sincere friend. We generally occupied our sabbaths in the houses of misery when I was able,

but when I could not go for want of strength, my dear Abigail read to me in the holy Bible, or some religious experience of the saints of God, whom she has joined in the songs of praise to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! The various acts of her mercy to many which I was witness to cannot be numbered; but not one work (wrought in love) is forgotten of God. The summer of 1810, we went down to George's-street in the morning for two months, and to the Park in the evening to preach to the harlots and deists, who are void of true wisdom, and I believe our labour was not in vain in the Lord.

Whenever I came to New-York, my dear friend received me with open arms, and a loving heart filled with mercy. We have been with dying saints, and sinners pleading for grace, and strength to bring them through the valley of death! I might now write a whole volume of the things that were praise worthy of my endeared friend, but as I have many times named her in my own manuscript, it seems unnecessary to go through the same here, as I expect to publish our labour of love that is united, soon.

My friend Abigail, had great pity to the women of ill fame; knowing her preservation was of God, who had given her a virtuous man as a guardian, as well as a tender husband in her long and tedious affliction, which is the time to prove true love, and a faithful friend.

The last act of mercy that we were engaged in together, was in 1819, to go to bridewell, to visit Rose Butler, and attend her to the place of execution!

I know of a truth that my beloved friend is enjoying sweet rest in God, while among the heavenly throng of glorified saints, worshipping our lowly King Jesus round the throne where he is seated in his Father's glory! Happy spirit, shall I not soon reach the royal palace? I answer, Yes, for thee; because I feel thee

as a ministering angel, who encourages me to be faithful unto death, that I may also receive the crown of glory, and join the blessed hosts of heaven.

Who would not desire to die the death of a Christian? the death of my choice friend, who now beckons me to make haste with my earthly work, that I may walk with her to the throne, and cast our crowns together at the sacred feet of Jesus, Lord of all !

Where shall I find an earthly friend to assist me in my toils in this city, like this departed spirit? Where meet with equal sympathy? Where the mercy from a heart filled with love to the human family at large? I am at a loss still to know, for her unshaken faith, love, courage, perseverance, and mercy are only in heavenborn souls, who are enriching themselves by continual works of righteousness. If I, a stranger in a strange land, can feel the loss thus great, how must her husband feel? Is not his loss irreparable? Can he find another Abigail? I fear not such a valuable wife, who was a help-mate indeed.

Her two daughters I know have felt the want of a pious mother's walk, as well as her godly admonitions, industry, economy, mercy, and love, the pure traits of her distinguished character. Her relatives witness her loss lamentably I believe, as a good obedient daughter, kind sister, affectionate aunt, who strove to accommodate each, according to her spirit of love and generosity. The neighbours round her dwelling were supplied with any article that her house afforded; and when sick she ministered the words of life unto them from the spirit of God within her. The church militant hath sent another eternal member from earth to heaven, to testify that the redeeming love of Jesus hath cemented her to the church triumphant as a living stone to the sacred tabernacle or temple which is set up eternally. Oh! I long to go home to glory to my Saviour, who has ransomed me with his precious blood. For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Oh!

62

MEMOIRS OF MRS. ABIGAIL EAMES.

I long to see all the redeemed with my endeared Abigail's happy spirit. On earth I have no abiding city, and I believe we shall soon meet and greet each other with holy triumph, to spend an everlasting sabbath of joy together; tuning our sacred harps in songs of praise to our Almighty Conqueror.

DOROTHY RIPLEY.

NEW-YORK, 5th of 11th Month, 1826.

FINIS.