The feelings which struggled in her soul found utterance through the
columns of the Christian Watchman in various prose and poetic effusions.
These articles do not exhibit any extraordinary poetic merit. They hardly
do credit to her real abilities. Bearing the marks of haste, these early
productions never gave any peculiar pleasure to the authoress; but for deep
feeling and pathos they are remarkable. They seem to be the outgushings of
a soul stirred up with holy enthusiasm and flowing out in channels of its
own formation. She evidently wrote, not for the severity of the critic, but
for the warm heart of the Christian; not to awaken feelings of admiration,
but to kindle up the flame of divine animation; not to win fame for
herself, but to inspire others with love for the perishing.
One of these poems was the instrument in bringing her into an acquaintance
with George D. Boardman, her future husband. The poem was upon the death
of Coleman, whose fall in a distant land, ere he had buckled the armor on,
produced feelings of sadness in the hearts of all American Christians.
Boardman saw it, and his soul was moved by it.
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