All agree in testifying that this grace of humility shed a sweet, calm lustre over all her other virtues. The only one's faithfulness that she hesitated to speak of was her own; her uniform estimate of herself was, "I am an unprofitable servant." Who ever suspected her of vainglory? Who will say that she was not accustomed to give all glory and praise to God?

This quality was too genuine to admit of a sombre tinge. There seemed to be no trace of false spirituality. She exhibited a fine combination of cheerfulness and seriousness. In fact, she had no time for despondency about herself or others. Heart, lips, and hands were too full of something else to admit of moodiness.

Mrs. Marsh had often expressed a desire that, if it pleased God, she might not outlive active usefulness; that she might die in the harness, might die here amongst us. When two years ago a city missionary in Boston[Footnote: Deacon Wilder.] died suddenly, she said she would like to go in the same way. God has substantially gratified her wish.

Now, in all the relations at which we have glanced, and positions as daughter, as head of a family, as head of a charitable institution, as private church-member, as a helpmeet

for a Christian minister, and as city missionary, she exhibited the highest order of conscientiousness, and of consecration to God. Have you ever known one who walked more nearly in the steps of our Lord and Saviour, one who did less to please self? Do you recall an acquaintance who appeared to act less from impulse, or more uniformly from an abiding sense of duty, in all quietness and steadfastness doing with her might what the hands found to do? A friend, who has known her intimately for forty years, states,—"I never knew Mrs. Marsh lukewarm or with a cold heart. Her life has been a chain of well doing all along, without one breakage."

The impression with us is deep, that the character of our deceased friend was in its type a very uncommon one; that by the grace of God it attained to a moral grandeur seldom witnessed. Such concentration, such unselfishness, such devout persistency in endeavors to honor our Lord Jesus Christ raise her to a lofty level.

We would institute no comparison between her and the votaries of fashion,—the frivolous, selfish beings, whose thoughts centre chiefly on personal accomplishments and position. "She that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth." But for a moment bring to mind those of a more elevated grade, who, by the pen, the pencil, or in the departments of sculpture and music, minister to æsthetic enjoyment, and the mental improvement of a community. Select, if you please, one who attained to the same age with our departed friend, a woman of undoubted talents, of unimpeached morals, the most distinguished tragic actress that England ever produced, and who was applauded to the skies. Let Sarah Kemble

Siddons march grandly up that aisle. Ah, to what nothingness does she shrivel in the presence of this heavenly woman, around whom the light of the cross and the glories of eternity gather! Let the present Roman Pontiff, born the same year with this humble city missionary, enter in all his regalia; how does his triple crown grow dim before the crown of righteousness that adorns her head!

Ten days ago, at the last meeting of the Eliot City Mission Society, Mrs. Marsh, in view of failing strength, sent in her resignation. A committee were appointed to wait upon her, and convey an expression of the general appreciation in which she and her labors are held. They have as yet had no opportunity to do so. They are now present, and will briefly perform the duty assigned them.

Beloved Friend,—"beloved Persis, who hast labored much in the Lord,"—we speak in behalf of ourselves, and we speak in behalf of multitudes. A church to whom you are endeared,