"
She could converse but little, and was with difficulty understood; but
every word breathed of faith and hope. On the afternoon before her
death, she repeated these beautiful lines, and, apparently, felt their
import:
"Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there."
She wished to have her robe and cap prepared so that she might see
them before her death. She expressed anxiety for her aged companion,
to whom she had been united fifty-five years, and who was dangerously
sick at the time, and thought he would never recover; but would soon
drop into a deep stupor, occasioned by ossification of the brain.
During the night her feet and hands grew cold, and the worn spirit
seemed struggling to depart.
She would frequently arouse from her stupor, and speak a word or two
to her attendants, saying to one,
"You did not expect me to be found alone now, did you?"
She repeated, "In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not
so I would have told you; I go to prepare a place for you."
She lingered till about ten o'clock in the fore-noon, then calling for
the absent members of the family, she desired to be raised up. Her son
supported her in his arms, the feeble lamp of life flickered a moment
in its socket, there was a little struggle, and that pure breast lay
free from the care or burden of life. Those loving eyes had looked
their last upon her dear children, that stood weeping by her bedside,
and the toil worn hands were laid cold and pulseless upon her peaceful
bosom, and she was now at rest with her Saviour, "in the house of many
mansions.
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