On Jan. 13, 1819, he writes:
"Sarah has continued to sink since you left, and is now apparently very easy, and very near the termination of her earthly career. She may continue two or three days; but the prospect is, that she will not open her eyes upon another morning. She suffers nothing, and it is, therefore, no trial to our feelings, compared with what it would be did she suffer. Her mind is a little clouded at times, but, in the main, quite clear. We shall give you early information of the event which blasts our dearest earthly hopes. But God reigns: let us rejoice."
A few hours before her death, she called for a paper (now in possession of the writer), and, with a pencil, traced, in a trembling hand, some directions respecting small memorials to friends, and then added:
"Feeling that I must soon depart from this, I trust, to a better world, I resign very dear friends to God, who has done so much for me. I am in ecstacies of love. How can I praise him enough! To my friends I give these tokens of remembrance."
On the 14th of January, 1819, Mr. Lawrence closed the eyes of this most beloved of all his earthly objects, and immediately relapsed into a state of melancholy and gloom, which was, no doubt, greatly promoted by the peculiar state of health and physical debility under which he had labored since his last illness.
A valued friend writes, a few days after the death of Mrs. L.:
"It was my privilege to witness the closing scene; to behold faith triumphing over sense, and raising the soul above this world of shadows. It was a spectacle to convince the sceptic, and to animate and confirm the Christian. About a week before her death, her increasing weakness taught her the fallacy of all hope of recovery. From this time, it was the business of every moment to prepare herself and her friends for the change which awaited her. Serene, and even cheerful, she could look forward without apprehension into the dark valley, and beyond it she beheld those bright regions where she should meet her Saviour, through whose mediation she had the blessed assurance that her sins were pardoned, and her inheritance secure. God permitted a cloud to obscure the bright prospect; it was but for a moment, and the sun broke forth with redoubled splendor. On the last night of her life, she appeared to suffer extremely, though, when asked, she constantly replied in the negative. She repeated, in a feeble voice, detached portions of hymns of which she had been fond. Towards morning, as she appeared nearly insensible, Mrs. R. was persuaded to lie down and rest. Shortly after, Sarah roused herself, and said to L., 'I am going; call my mother.' Mrs. R. was at her bedside immediately, and asked her if she was sensible that she was leaving the world. She answered 'Yes,' and expressed her resignation.
"Mrs. R. then repeated a few lines of Pope's Dying Christian, and the expiring saint, in broken accents, followed her. On her mother's saying 'the world recedes,' she added, 'It disappears,—heaven opens.' These were the last words I heard her utter. She then became insensible, and in about ten minutes expired. Not a sound interrupted the sacred silence; the tear of affection was shed, but no lamentation was heard. The eye of affection dwelt on the faded form, but faith pointed to those regions where the blessed spirit was admitted to those joys which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive. Mr. L. is wonderfully supported. He feels as a man and a Christian."
Upon this letter Mr. Lawrence has endorsed the following memorandum:
"I saw this letter to-day for the first time. My son-in-law handed to me yesterday a number of memorials of my beloved daughter, who was called home on the second day of December last, when only a few months younger than her mother, whose death is so beautifully described within. The description brought the scene back to my mind with a force that unmanned me for a time, and leads me to pray most earnestly and humbly that I may be found worthy to join them through the beloved, when my summons comes.
A. L.
"February 5th, 1845."