God of my religious ancestors, the God of my mother, the God of my pious father: dying and breathing out his soul, he gave me to thy care; he put me in thy gracious arms, and delivered me up to thy protection; he told me thou wouldst never leave nor forsake me; he triumphed in thy long experienced faithfulness and truth; and gave his testimony for thee with his latest breath."
Miss Singer gave early indications of a taste for the sister arts, poetry and painting. She began to write verses at twelve years of age; and loved the pencil, when she had hardly strength and steadiness of hand sufficient to guide it; and, in her infancy, one may almost venture to say so, would squeeze out the juices of herbs to serve her instead of colours. Mr. Singer perceiving her fondness for this art, was at the expence of a master to instruct her in it; and it never ceased to be her amusement at times, until her death.
But her strongest bent was to poetry and writing. Poetiy, indeed, was the most favourite employment of her youth. So prevalent was her genius this way, that her very prose hath all the charms of verse, without the fetters; the same fire and elevation, the same bright images, bold figures, a rich and flowing diction. She could hardly write a familiar letter but it bore the stamp of a poet. In the year 1696, the twenty-second of her age, a collection of her poems, on various occasions, was published at the desire of two of her friends, to which the signature of Philomela was affixed. Though many of these poems are of a religious kind, and all of them consistent with the strictest regard to the rules of virtue; yet some things in them gave her no little uneasiness in advanced life. Not satisfied to have done nothing that injured the cause
