strong sense of duty, resigned his place in her heart to the reigning Count of Reussebersdorf. "From that moment," he said to Charles Wesley, of this act of self-sacrifice, "I was freed from all self-seeking, so that for ten years I have not done my own will in anything, great or small. My own will is hell to me."

In 1731 Count Zinzendorf resigned all public duties, and the encumbrances that follow rank, to devote himself to the service of the Moravian Brethren. He travelled extensively in their behalf, extending his journeys to America, where he labored more than a year in Pennsylvania. He wrote many works, and two thousand hymns. Among his last words were, "I am going to my Saviour."

His hymn, beginning,

"Jesus, thy blood and righteousness,"

was written on the island of St. Eustatius, on his returr. from visiting the missionaries in the West Indies. He was filled at the time with a large missionary spirit, and a lofty religious confidence, as the hymn itself strongly evidences.

LADY HUNTINGDON'S HYMN.

SELINA, Countess of Huntingdon, the friend of Whitefield, devoted her time and fortune to the welfare of others. In her maidenhood she heard her sister-in-law, Lady Margaret Hastings, remark, that since she had known and believed in the Lord Jesus Christ for life and salvation, she had been as happy as an angel.

This remark made an impression upon her mind. It

led her to desire to become a follower of Christ, and afterwards resulted in her belief in him as her Saviour. Her after-life was very attractive in the devoted piety that she exhibited by her unwearied usefulness. She erected chapels at her own expense, and lived abstemiously that she might give more money to the poor and advance the religion of her Master.

Her religious experience was continuous, and was sanctified by affliction:

"The world can neither give, nor take,

Nor can they comprehend

The peace of God, which Christ has bought-
The peace which knows no end.

"The burning bush was not consumed,
While God remained there;

The three, when Jesus made the Fourth,
Found fire as soft as air.

"God's furnace doth in Zion stand,

But Zion's God sits by,
As the refiner views his gold,
With an observant eye.

"His thoughts are high, his love is wise,
His wounds a cure intend;

And, though he does not always smile,

He loves unto the end."

She died at the age of eighty-four. A year before

her death she met with an ginning of her last illness. mind was at perfect peace. often said, with emphasis,

accident, which was the bc-
Although in great pain, her
As death drew near, she
The coming of the Lord

draweth nigh! The thought fills me with joy unspeakable!"

Here was the ground of her hopes and her happiness: "I see," she said, "myself a poor worm, drawing near to Jesus. What hope could I entertain if I did not know the efficacy of his blood? How little could anything that I have done give a moment's rest at such an hour as this! I confess I have no hope but that which inspired the dying malefactor at the side of my Lord, and I must be saved in the same way, as freely, as fully, or not at all."

New views and revelations came to her in her triumph over the terrors of death. "I cannot tell you," she said, “in what light I now see these words: 'If a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.' To have in this room such company. and to have such an eternal prospect! I see this subject now in a light impossible to be described. I know my capacity will be then enlarged, but I am now as sensible of the presence of God, as I am of the presence of those I have with me."

Her dying testimony was a fitting close to so grand an earthly life.

"My work is done; I have nothing to do but to go to my Father!"

Lady Huntingdon's motives were very pure and sincere, and she ruled her life by secret self-examination, living always with eternity in view. Her best known hymn has reference to this constant aim to keep a blameless conscience in the sight of God.

WHEN thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come
To take thy ransomed people home,
Shall I among them stand?
Shall such a worthless worm as I,
Who sometimes am afraid to die,
Be found at thy right hand?

I love to meet thy people now,
Before thy feet with them to bow,
Though vilest of them all;
But can I bear the piercing thought
What if my name should be left out,
When thou for them shalt call?

O Lord, prevent it by thy grace :
Be thou my only hiding place,
In this th' accepted day;

Thy pardoning voice oh let me hear,
To still my unbelieving fear,

Nor let me fall, I pray.

Among thy saints let me be found,
Whene'er the archangel's trump shall sound,

To see thy smiling face;

Then loudest of the throng I'll sing,

While heaven's resounding arches ring

With shouts of sovereign grace.

JOHN WESLEY'S HYMN.

How happy is the pilgrim's lot;
How free from every anxious thought,
From worldly hope and fear!

Confined to neither court nor cell,
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,

He only sojourns here.