Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish brings His dearest earthly treasure to these springs; Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain, Shall court these salutary springs in vain: Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply, To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye-- From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death, And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:-- If chance should bring him to this humble line, Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine. Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast, Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd; Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove, Her duty friendship, and her friendship love. But yet, remembering that the parting sigh Appoints the just to slumber, not to die, The starting tear I check'd--I kissed the rod, And not to earth resigned her, but to God! With heavy hearts, but hastened steps, we returned to Princeton; whence almost in despair, yet anxious to try any and all means for so great an end, we hastily set out with our meek sufferer for the Virginia Springs: but as the previous narrative has recited, we were arrested at Philadelphia. Here all was done by the assiduity and skill of her physicians,[7] and the most tender and constant attentions of a great number of friends. But her divine Redeemer claimed her for himself. She returned to Princeton, to bless her household, and to die. On the evening of June the 13th, she reached her children, and her earthly home. On the morning of the 16th, a quarter before ten o'clock, with her reason unclouded, in a frame of calm and holy triumph which marked the dawning of heaven on her soul; with a meek prayer for permission to die, and with but a single pang, she bade the world farewell, and ascended to God! [7] Drs. Chapman and Meigs, to whom with Dr. Nelson of New York, we all owe more for their unwearied and sympathizing care than we have words to express. Her remains were attended to the grave by a very large and deeply affected assembly, after the delivery of the impressive funeral discourse affixed to this Memoir; where they rest by the side of her three little children, two daughters and a son, removed by death before. The like number and of the same sex, two daughters and a son, are left to the surviving parent, to mourn her loss, to treasure and imitate her example, and, by the grace of the Saviour, to follow them to the skies, where the "house now left desolate unto them" shall be restored with added bliss; and the little family thus divided in the midst of life, being reunited in pure and perfect love, be received into everlasting habitations. A neat marble monument points to the spot where her dust reposes. CHAPTER III. CLOSING REFLECTIONS.