“From the moment he was seized with the fever, he felt the sentence of death in himself. When I first saw him, he said, ‘My last enemy is come! the signs of death are upon me, but I am not afraid. No! No! Blessed be God, my hope is sure, and I am in His hands.’ When I was pouring out my soul in prayer to the Lord, I mentioned the further prolongation of his life, that he might have more opportunities of being useful; and when I had concluded, he said, ‘My dear brother Ingham, if the Lord should raise me up, I think I could do more for His glory than I have hitherto done. Alas! what have my wretched services been? and I have now need to cry, at the close of my unprofitable course—_God be merciful to me a sinner!_’ At my next visit, I found him much worse, and evidently sinking. I mentioned having received a letter from your ladyship, and delivered your message. He seemed much affected, but, after a few moments, revived a little. When I had prayed with him, he said, ‘I harbour no desire of life,—my time is come,—and I am entirely resigned to God.’ Then, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he added, ‘Thy will be done!’ At another time, he said, laying his hand upon his breast, ‘I am quite exhausted, but I shall soon be at home for ever with the Lord—a poor miserable sinner redeemed by His blood.’ Mr. Venn having arrived, I shortly after took my leave, but never after saw my dear brother Grimshaw alive.” Not long after this, Ingham had to mourn the death of another and dearer friend. After twenty-seven years of connubial happiness, his noble and Christian wife was taken from him. During her fatal sickness, “She continued to exercise those Christian graces for which she had been long distinguished. Of herself and her efforts, her view was ever humble, and every reference to her usefulness she met with grateful acknowledgment of the sovereignty of that grace, that made her the instrument of good to others. Her end, though painful, was triumphant. She welcomed the hour—she longed to receive the prize of her high calling. ‘Thanks be to God! thanks be to God!’ she exclaimed, ‘The moment’s come! the day is dawning!’ and thus, in holy ecstasy, she winged her way to glory.” “When she had no longer strength to speak to me,” (wrote Ingham), “she looked most sweetly at me and smiled. On the Tuesday before she died, when she had opened her heart to me, and declared the ground of her hope, her eyes sparkled with divine joy, her countenance shone, her cheeks were ruddy: I never saw her look so sweet and lively in my life. All about her were affected; no one could refrain from tears, and yet it was a delight to be with her.” Lady Margaret Ingham died on the 30th of April, 1768, in the sixty-eighth year of her age.