"I desire to have no choice."
For the text of her funeral sermon, she chose, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord," and also selected an appropriate hymn to be sung on that occasion. "Do not weep for me, dear aunt," she tenderly said, "but rather rejoice, and give praise on my account."
As the close of her last day on earth approached, she desired to hear once more the voice of prayer. Her affectionate uncle, who cherished for her the love of a father, poured out his soul fervently at the Throne of Grace. Her lips, already white in death, clearly pronounced "Amen," and soon after added, "Why are his chariot-wheels so long in coming? Yet I hope he will enable me to wait His hour with patience."
Fixing her eyes on her mourning aunt, it seemed as if the last trace of earthly anxiety that she was destined to feel, was on her account. To one near her pillow, she said in a gentle whisper.
"Try to persuade my aunt to leave the room. I think I shall soon sleep. I shall not remain with you until the morning."
No. Her morning was to be where there is no sunset. All pain was for her ended. So quiet was the transition, that those whose eyes were fixed earnestly upon her, could not tell when she drew her last breath. She lay as if in childlike slumber, her cheek reclining upon her hand, and on her brow a smile.
She died on the 6th of October, 1785, at the age of fourteen years. During her short span, she communicated a great amount of happiness to those who adopted her as a child into their hearts and homes. The sweet intercourse and interchange of love more than repaid their cares.
They were permitted to aid in her growth of true religion, and to see its calm and glorious triumph over the last great enemy. That a child, under fifteen, should have been enabled thus to rejoice amid the wasting agony of sickness, and thus willingly leave those whom she loved, and whose love for her moved them to do all in their power to make life pleasant to her young heart, proves the power of a Christian's faith.
She desired to be absent from the body, that she might be present with the Lord. Now, before his Throne, whom not having seen, she loved, and raised above the clouds that break in tears, and all shafts of pain and sorrow, she drinks of the rivers of pleasure that flow at his right hand, and shall thirst no more.