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would allow them to testify—for there is a Borrow too big for utterance—she wonW say to them: "Do not weep for me. My afflictions are light, and but for a moment— the prelude and earnest of eternal felicity. Dry your tears, my beloved friends; and do not add to what I already feel, the pain of seeing you mourning, as if you were going to lose me for ever. Yet a little while, and We shall meet again, to separate no more." With a mind thus supported, she now drew near the term of her short but bright career. Her family stood collected round her bed, expecting, in mournful suspense, the struggle which was to deprive them of one, whose voice had often animated them oh the way, as her example had led them forward to fairer worlds. Suddenly, she recovered the power of articulation :—it was noon, the usual season of her retirement. Aware that, ere the evening sacrifice could be offered, she would be in mansions where the voice of praise alone would be heard, she now requested them to unite with her in one more solemn dedication of
herself and them to God. This done, in a
manner so impressive and affecting as to
draw tears from all, while many sobbed
aloud, she closed her eyes, and seemed to
sink into a quiet sleep. Not many minutes
had elapsed, however, when diey perceived
signs of uneasiness in her countenance.
Soon her lips quivered, and her whote
frame became agitated almost to convulsion.
The tears started, and ran in quick succession
down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but
her words dropped broken and unintelligible.
—It was the final effort of the accuser to
obscure the glorious prospects of a departing
saint. "My God"—after a pause, she
cried—" why hast thou forsaken me? Wilt
thou then, leave me to perish? Wilt thou
not guide me through the Valley of the
shadow of death?'' Stretching out her hand,
as if seeking some one to help her—" Is
there no hand to lead me, no right hand to
uphold me r"
At this instant the venerable pastor entered, who had so long and so tenderly borne her on bis heart. Recognizing the well* known step as he approached the bed, she opened her eyes, and welcomed him with a smile—but it was a smile more of agony than of joy. Unconsciously they all sunk upon their knees. The aged servant of Christ, soon himself to receive the crown, prayed. As his calm and fervent petitions ascended, the peace of God again gradually diffused itself over that pale and dying visage, which but just now was covered with the gloom of despondency; and ere he concluded, it had resumed its wonted serenity. The cloud had dispersed, and the Sun of Righteousness once more shed healing from his wings. If sin and sorrow found aught in her, they were no longer permitted to exercise her faith. The troubles of a vain and delusive world were left behind for ever. Hope seemed almost to be lost in sight, and the veil, that conceals the eternal inheritance from mortal vision, appeared to be withdrawn, while in the full assurance of exultation, she exclaimed: "He has given his angels charge concerning me, and they are waiting to conduct me to
the presence of Him, who bought me with his blood. He is my refuge—and on Him only I rely. His love is stronger than death; and though I pass through the waters, he will be with me, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow me."
For some minutes she continued to speak to those about her, as if already on the way from earth to heaven. Then raising herself in the bed, strengthened we may presume, in an especial manner, for the closing scene, she called them to her one by one, as they wept around her, and blessed them, and gave them the kiss of peace.* In conclusion, addressing" herself to them collectively, she uttered, in a clear and emphatic voice: "Persevere unto the end; and may He, whose grace has supported me under all my afflictions, be your exceeding great reward!" Having thus delivered to them her dying charge, her ties to this world were dissolved: and her spirit appeared suddenly to hear the summons to unrobe. Then, gently laying lierself back in the arms of one of her brothers, who, bavingrecently obtained leave of absence, had returned to attend her daring her last illness, and had placed himself so as to support her, she lifted her eyes to heaven, and said: "I am going unto my Father and your Father, and to my God and your God." This done, without a struggle or a sigh, she sweetly fell asleep in Jesus, and entered on that rest which shall never be 'interrupted more!
* See note v.
Sueh was the life of one of the fairest of the daughters of men—its tranquil tenour, its triumphant close. If few, who are doomed to the sufferings of a terrestrial pilgrimage, have had deeper experience of Divine consolation, few have been caHed to taste of the bitterness of that cup which was given her to drink. But there Was One who watched over her. He had redeemed her with the price of his own sorrows; ami He stood by her ^faithful Trrrto death.' Through him, more than conqueror in all