made by others in after years, inasmuch as she had no example, no pattern.
She realized that the advice of friends, biased as it was by prejudice and
affection, could not be relied upon; and, driven to the throne of God, she
wrestled there until her course of action was decided and her mind fixed
intently upon the great work before her. Her resolution to go to India was
assailed on every side. Those to whom she had been accustomed to look for
advice and counsel, friends on whose judgment she had relied, shook their
heads and gave decided tokens of disapprobation. But the question was
finally settled. On one side were the gay world, her young associates,
her kind relatives, her own care and comfort. On the other side stood a
bleeding Savior and a dying world. To the question, "Lord, what wilt thou
have me to do?" she heard the response, "Go work to-day in my vineyard;"
and when she looked forth upon the harvest, white for the reaper's hand,
she hesitated not to consecrate on the altar of her God her services, her
time, her life.

When this decision was once made, she conferred not with flesh and blood.
Her reply was given to Mr. Newell in firm, decided language; and up to
the hour when her spirit took its flight from earth to heaven, we have
no evidence that she had one single regret that she had chosen a life of
self-sacrifice. Her language was,--

"Through floods and flames, if Jesus lead,
I'll follow where he goes."

Through duties and trials, through floods and flames, she passed, shrinking
from no danger and shunning no sacrifice. Conscious of right, she quailed
not before the tears of friends and the scorn of foes; but alike in duty
and in danger followed the footsteps of her Savior, until her wasting body
was decomposed and her spirit taken up to dwell with the just men made