In particular, I felt for my father and mother, as they were getting into years, and were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion." "Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, "ignorant and dark, sinful and miserable we were, till this dear Betsy--this dear Betsy--this dear child, sir--brought Christ Jesus home to her poor father and mother's house." "No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought your poor daughter home to tell you what he had done for her soul, and I hope, to do the same for yours." At that moment the Dairyman came in with two pails of milk hanging from the yoke on his shoulders.

He had stood behind the half-opened door for a few minutes, and heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and daughter.
"Blessing and mercy upon her!" said he, "it is very true; she left a good place of service on purpose to live with us, that she might help us both in soul and body.

Sir, don't she look very ill?
I think, sir, we sha'n't have her here long." "Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth.

"All our times are in his hand, and happy it is that they are.

I am willing to go; are you not willing, my father, to part with me into _his_ hands, who gave me to you at first ?" "Ask me any question in the world but that," said the weeping father.
"I know," said she, "you wish me to be happy." "I do, I do," answered he; "let the Lord do with you and us as best pleases him." I then asked her on what her present consolations chiefly depended, in the prospect of approaching death.
"Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ.