"Fairest month of summer's Trine,
Why dost thou remain in tears?
Ask not. 'Tis the will divine;
This shall dissipate my fears.
He, who ruleth in the sky,
Knoweth what His creatures need;
He can every want supply,
Trust Him, and His promise plead.
Clouds may wear a frowning brow,
Blasting winds may sweep around,
He, who reigns above, knows how
Best to make his love abound.
Then, I'll cast my every care
On my promise-keeping God;
Honour Him by faith and prayer;
Rest upon His faithful word.
Should the cloud continue still,
Thou for ever art the same,
All the workings of Thy will
But proclaim Thy glorious name."
The last entries of her diary, which with a solemn significance just fill up the volume, we give in full.
"June 11th.—I expected to have received my ticket, but no one came, I clearly see no dependance can be placed upon the creature. On Thee, O Lord, let all my confidence rest! Glory be to God, though I am an isolated one, I am not left alone. I do feel drawn, after God, I have given myself to Him, and He is chief in my affection.
19th.—My seventy-eighth birth-day. I had intended writing, but the Lord saw otherwise. I was in bed three parts, of the day, and on the 20th very ill, having taken cold.
21st.—Thursday the longest day. I am very feeble, but have taken my pen to acknowledge the goodness of God to me for so long a period. At noon we had an awful thunderstorm, during which my soul was calm and peaceful. This is the Lord's doing. I felt sweet trust and confidence in my Almighty Saviour. Afterwards I received my ticket at the hands of the Rev. Thos. Nightingale. On the ticket there is written, 'I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with everlasting kindness have I drawn thee.'"
24th. THE SABBATH.
Peaceful is the Sabbath morn,
Glad I welcome its return;
Now Thy presence I implore,
Come, and never leave me more.
It was hoped by her friends that, with the return of milder weather, her strength would rally; but from this time it gradually declined. Her occupations were pursued as usual, but her weakness became daily more apparent; and, every now and then, intimations fell from her lips, that her "time was short," and her "work nearly done." To those around her it was evident that she was standing ready, and waiting for the coming of her Lord. This was particularly observable in the promptitude and fidelity with which she addressed all who came to the house, in terms of exhortation or warning, as if she was afraid of losing a single opportunity of speaking for her Master. Earth with its comparative trifles was fast receding from her view, and her spiritual vision occupied with the solemn and momentous scenes into which she was so soon to enter. Her daughter, who, for the purpose of ministering to her requirements, occupied the same bed-room, was often awoke, in the stillness of night, by the voice of thanksgiving and prayer; for, not content with making melody to the Lord in her heart, she gave vent to her overflowing feelings in singing and praise.
On Thursday, the 28th, the decrease of her strength was such that, although no danger was apprehended, it was deemed advisable to call in medical aid, which afforded her a momentary relief. But disease was insidiously working to an unfavourable issue, and that day she plied her needle for the last time. On Saturday the doctor instituted a minute examination of her lungs, and pronounced the case one of the worst forms of bronchitis; yet still held out the hope of recovery,—a hope in which she evinced no sympathy, for, though from the nature of the complaint able to talk but little, she spoke of her affliction, not only without apprehension, but with joyful anticipation. To the doctor, when he informed her of her danger, she expressed her confidence that "to die would be gain," and urged upon him the importance of living always in a state of preparation for death. He had no sooner left the room than, turning to her daughter, with a look of ecstacy, she said, "I am going home, Mary." In consequence of her extreme debility, the difficulty of her breathing and expectoration occasioned her much suffering, which she bore with exemplary patience; and when it was referred to, replied, "It is all right." At another time when an allusion was made to her sufferings, her reply was, "Patient the appointed race to run." Her daughter read to her the beautiful hymn, commencing, "The God of Abraham praise," to which she listened with great attention, and on coming to the lines,
"He calls a worm His friend,
He calls Himself my God,
And He shall save me to the end,
Through Jesus' blood;"