‘After the Easter hymn, “Lo, in the grave He lay,” the congregation then formed into Procession; the Clergy first, then the Bier.... The long line of followers stretched out, till we could scarcely see the end of it. The distance being about two miles, the walk occupied more than an hour. Hymns were sung the whole way; and the groups of people, Hindus and Muhammadans, who lined the road and crowded the tops of the houses, as we passed the city, seemed much interested in looking on. Many of them, I think, came as far as the Cemetery.
‘As we passed through the gates, copies of a hymn were distributed, which the dear Auntie had composed about three weeks before she was taken ill. On sending it to me at the time, she added in her letter: “Perhaps you will like to see my little funeral hymn. Perhaps it may be sung when I go to sleep.”
‘We also had the hymn, “Jesus lives”; and closed with her favourite, “For ever with the Lord.” Deep feeling was shown; and many of the boys could scarcely restrain their tears. We all felt we had lost a friend, such as we should never see again. The Mission is bereaved,—not only Batala, but the whole of the Panjab; and we all mourn our loss together....
‘Dr. Weitbrecht had arranged everything for yesterday most beautifully. The whole Service was, I think, in perfect accordance with her wishes; simple, sweet, and solemn, yet with an element of joy and hope about it, which was suitable to her bright, joyous nature. We could indeed give thanks for the fight she had fought, the course she had finished, the crown she had won; and so we laid her down,—till the Day break and the shadows flee away. “Till He come!”’
Another eye-witness, Mrs. Wade, wrote:—
‘We were very thankful that it was possible to delay the meeting at Batala till Tuesday, as it gave opportunity for friends from some distance to be present. We all met in the Church for the first part of the Service and sermon by Mr. Clark,—the dear familiar face no longer among the worshippers, but in the King’s Presence.... The walk from the Church to the little Cemetery, quite near her own home, is long, and occupied an hour; during which time many hymns of faith and love were softly sung, and at the grave her own hymn, one she had composed not six weeks ago for her own funeral.... Dr. Weitbrecht then completed the Service.... The silence of the onlookers, as one went towards the grave, was very noticeable. Many of them felt that they had indeed lost a friend. A large number of the Native gentlemen of the City were present in the Church and during the Service, with reverent demeanour; and when we had left, I was told, many of the poor women came to weep at her grave.
‘We thank God for all she was during the long life, and especially in the eighteen years in India.... Batala will never be the same. Many of the elder boys, who carried her, were weeping.’
And from the pen of Dr. Weitbrecht we have the following:—
‘After the Burial was over, I spoke a few words about her to the many people who had assembled from outside, trying to impress on them the motive power of her life: “The love of Christ constraineth us.” After most of the Clergy and visitors had left the Cemetery, a number of women from the city came to take a last look, and to wail at the grave. Times without number, gentlemen of Batala and men of lower standing come to tell me how she went to their houses, and sympathised with their wives and daughters in joy and sorrow. Not a few will miss her open-handed charity; and, far more, her bright, ever-ready sympathy.’