That charm, delight, transport the soul;
And every panting wish shall be
Possessed of boundless bliss in Thee.’
And there, my dear mother, we also shall soon be, uniting and participating in the felicities of heaven with her for whom we now mourn. ‘Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.’”
“Amherst, February 4, 1827.
“Amid the desolation that death has made, I take up my pen once more to address the mother of my beloved Ann. I am sitting in the house she built, in the room where she breathed her last, and at a window from which I see the tree that stands at the head of her grave, and the top of the ‘small rude fence’ which they have put up ‘to protect it from incautious intrusion.’
“Mr. and Mrs. Wade are living in the house, having arrived here about a month after Ann’s death; and Mrs. Wade has taken charge of my poor motherless Maria. I was unable to get any accounts of the child at Rangoon; and it was only on my arriving here, the 24th ultimo, that I learned she was still alive. Mr. Wade met me at the landing-place, and as I passed on to the house one and another of the native Christians came out, and when they saw me they began to weep. At length we reached the house; and I almost expected to see my love coming out to meet me, as usual. But no; I saw only in the arms of Mrs. Wade a poor little puny child, who could not recognize her weeping father, and from whose infant mind had long been erased all recollection of the mother who had loved her so much.
“She turned away from me in alarm, and I, obliged to seek comfort elsewhere, found my way to the grave. But who ever obtained comfort there? Thence I went to the house in which I left her, and looked at the spot where we last knelt in prayer and where we exchanged the parting kiss.
“The doctor who attended her has removed to another station, and the only information I can obtain is such as the native Christians are able to communicate.
“It seems that her head was much affected during her last days, and she said but little. She sometimes complained thus: ‘The teacher is long in coming; and the new missionaries are long in coming; I must die alone, and leave my little one; but as it is the will of God, I acquiesce in His will. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid I shall not be able to bear these pains. Tell the teacher that the disease was most violent, and I could not write; tell him how I suffered and died; tell him all that you see; and take care of the house and things until he returns.’ When she was unable to notice anything else, she would still call the child to her, and charge the nurse to be kind to it, and indulge it in everything, until its father shall return. The last day or two she lay almost senseless and motionless, on one side, her head reclining on her arm, her eyes closed; and at eight in the evening, with one exclamation of distress in the Burman language, she ceased to breathe.