not a few date new progress in the Christian life from it, by means of
the new and striking illustration which they there had of the Saviour's
power and love. The Choir struck the key note of heaven in their opening
strains, by chanting, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and
blessing." They gave us, too, her favorite song, by which she was
remembered in several circles, at home and abroad, before she was sick,
and the words of which, now, seem to have had a prophetic meaning from
her lips:--

"I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night;"--

which was sung at the funeral with a sweetness which added much to the
associations with it in our minds; and in the closing hymn, how strange
it seemed, at a funeral, to hear the singers, though by our own request
and though in accordance with all which had passed, bid us

"Proclaim abroad his name,
Tell of his matchless fame,
What wonders done!
Shout through hell's dark profound,
Let the whole earth resound,
Till the high heavens rebound,
The victory's won;"--

and to hear them, as they cried one to another, saying,--

"All hail the glorious day,
When, through the heavenly way,