After the exciting scenes of the Christmas festival, Mrs. Peake's health sensibly declined, and in a week or two she was obliged to suspend, and soon to give up entirely, the charge to which she had clung with such tenacity. I visited her frequently, and was the bearer of clothing and other tokens from friends at the North. Every thing in our power was done to cheer her, and never were ministerings more cordially bestowed, or more gratefully received and richly repaid. To visit her had always been a privilege, but the privilege was doubly precious during her last illness. To see how a frail woman, with an exquisitely nervous temperament, could deliberately and calmly bid farewell to family, pupils, and friends, and yield herself into her Father's hands, to pass through the ordeal of sickness and death, was a privilege and a blessing.
In her presence I was a learner, and, under the inspiration of her words and example, obtained new strength for fresh endeavors in the cause of God and humanity. In one of my visits, she told me that I must give her love to the committee in New York, and all the friends of the mission; that she had had a bright vision of her Saviour, and he had assured her that the cause would triumph; that we were sowing seed which would spring up and become a tree, to overspread the whole earth; that we should be a great blessing to this down-trodden people, and they would fulfill a glorious destiny. "Oh, yes," said she, "brother Lockwood, you will succeed, for Jesus has told me so this morning."
For two weeks previous to her death, she seemed to be in the "land of Beulah," on the "mountains of the shepherds," where, like Bunyan's pilgrim, she could clearly descry the promised land. She had a strong desire to depart and be with Christ, which was far better than even his most intimate earthly visits. Again and again, as I called to see her, she assured me that she had had a fresh visit from her Saviour, and he had told her that where he was she should be, and she would be like him when she should see him as he is. She knew not where in the universe heaven might be, but where her Saviour was, there would be her heaven, for she would be with him.
Her constantly increasing cough and expectoration, though not attended with much pain, were, as usual, accompanied with uneasiness, want of sleep, and great weakness, which made her frequently request prayer that she might have patience to bear all without a murmur, and await her Father's will. She wanted to say, with the feelings of Job, "All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come. I know that my Redeemer liveth."
At one time, her symptoms seemed more favorable, and I expressed a hope of her recovery. "No," said she; "I have taken leave of my family, and of every thing on earth, and I would rather go, if it be God's will; only I want to wait patiently till he comes to call me." Her husband and mother told me that, during the previous night, she had bidden them all farewell, and left farewell messages for her school, and the church, and all her friends. She had thus set her house in order, to die, or, rather, to live a diviner life, and she was waiting the summons home. She said that she felt like a little child in her Father's arms; and if, by lifting a pebble, she could hold back her spirit, she would not do it.
Several days before her death, she requested me to sing "The Christian's Home in Glory," or "Rest for the Weary"—a hymn, with its tune, dear to her for itself and for its associations. As I repeated the chorus, she exclaimed, again and again, with great tenderness and emphasis, "Rest, rest, rest! Oh, brother Lockwood, there I shall rest, rest, rest! This weary head shall rest on my Saviour's bosom."
When I had sung the last stanza,—
"Sing, oh, sing, ye heirs of glory,
Shout your triumph as you go,"—
she burst out in an ecstasy that seemed as if the spirit would break away from the body, "Oh, brother, I shall sing! I shall shout! Won't we sing? Won't we shout? Yes, we shall—we shall sing and shout!"
On Saturday morning, February 22, she was in a very happy frame of mind, and said that she had had precious visits from her Saviour; he had told her that he was coming soon, and would fulfill her heart's desire in taking her to him. Her mother said, that during the previous night she had been constantly reaching up, and sometimes she would cry out, with great earnestness, "Do not leave me, dear Jesus."