“Mother! mother! I have not long to live. My time will be very short. But I must, indeed I must, say something for your sake, before I die. O mother! you have a soul—you have a soul; and what will become of it when you die? O my mother! I am so uneasy about your soul—”
“Oh, dear! I shall lose my child—she will die—and what shall I do when you are gone, my Jenny?” She sobbed aloud.
“Mother, think about your soul. Have you not neglected that?”
“Yes, I have been a wicked creature, and hated all that was good. What can I do?”
“Mother, you must pray to God to pardon you for Christ’s sake. You must pray.”
“Jenny, my child, I cannot pray: I never did pray in all my life. I am too wicked to pray.”
“Mother, I have been wanting to speak to you a long time; but I was afraid to do it. You did not like me to say anything about religion, and I did not know how to begin. But indeed, mother, I must speak now, or it may be too late. I wish Mr. --- was here, for he could talk to you better than I can. But perhaps you will think of what I say, poor as it is, when I am dead. I am but a young child, and not fit to speak about such things to anybody. But, mother, you belong to me, and I cannot bear to think of your perishing for ever. My Lord and Saviour has shown me my own sin and corruptions: he loved me, and gave himself for me: he died, and he rose again: I want to praise him for it for ever and ever. I hope I shall see him in heaven; but I want to see you there too, mother. Do, pray do, leave off swearing, and other bad ways: go to church, and hear our minister speak about Jesus Christ, and what he has done for wicked sinners. He wishes well to souls. He taught me the way, and he will teach you, mother. Why did you always go out of the house when he was coming? Do not be angry with me, mother; I only speak for your good. I was once as careless as you are about the things of God. But I have seen my error. I was in the broad road leading to destruction, like many
other children in the parish; and the Lord saw me, and had mercy upon me.”
“Yes, my child, you were always a good girl, and minded your book.”
“No, mother, no; not always. I cared nothing about goodness, nor my Bible, till the minister came and sent for us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons. Don’t you remember, mother, that at first you did not like me to go, and said you would have no such godly, pious doings about your house; and that I had better play about the streets and fields, than be laughed at and be made game of for pretending to be so good? Ah, mother, you did not know what I went for, and what God designed for me and my poor sinful soul! But, thank God, I did go, and there learned the way of salvation. Mother, I wish you had learned too.”