“Father, mother,” said the reviving daughter, “He is good to me—trust Him, praise Him evermore.”
“Sir,” added she, in a faint voice, “I want to thank you for your kindness to me—I want to ask a favour; you buried my sister—will you do the same for me?”
“All shall be as you wish, if God permit;” I replied.
“Thank you, sir, thank you. I have another favour to ask: when I am gone, remember my father and mother. They are old, but I hope the good work is begun in their souls. My prayers are heard. Pray come and see them. I cannot speak much, but I want to speak for their sakes. Sir, remember them.”
The aged parents now sighed and sobbed aloud, uttering broken sentences, and gained some relief by such an expression of their feelings.
At length I said to Elizabeth—“Do you experience any doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal safety?”
“No, sir; the Lord deals very gently with me, and gives me peace.”
“What are your views of the dark valley of death, now that you are passing through it?”
“It is not dark.”
“Why so?”