She felt that, although
she was unworthy of God's favor, yet Christ had shed his blood for
her, and she trusted that her sins had been washed away by that blood,
and her soul made meet for the heavenly inheritance. She strove to
console the grief of her parents, who were almost heartbroken at the
thought of parting from their child. She pointed them to that home
beyond the grave, where they should be reunited never more to part;
never more to suffer pain, or sorrow, or care; where tears are wiped
from all eyes, and the ransomed spirit will be permitted to join with
the heavenly host in singing praises to the Redeemer.
She bore her sufferings with sweet resignation. As her bodily strength
failed her mind seemed to expand, and her intellectual powers to grow
higher. Her love of the beautiful seemed also to increase. The deep
blue sky, when studded by a countless host of brilliant stars; the
soft, fleecy clouds when reflecting the gorgeous hues of sunset; the
music of the birds; the whispering of the breeze, making mysterious
melody as it mingled with the rustling of the leaves; these, with a
thousand other sweet but incomprehensible charms of nature, seemed to
form the link that bound her soul to earth.
Gradually her strength failed; each day her fragile form became more
attenuated, and her thin hand more transparent. There was nothing
terrible in the approach of death. Nothing that was revolting to the
most sensitive mind; but when we were summoned to stand around her
dying bed, there was something so calm, so heavenly, so peaceful, in
the expression of her countenance, that we all felt that it was indeed
a privilege to witness the departure of her soul to the world of
spirits, and we involuntarily exclaimed, "Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his.
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