"Thank God you have come! Your visit will do us all good."
Mr. Asbury had not known much of his niece, though he was one of her guardians. He watched her closely, trying to account for the change in his household. Every day rendered it more certain that a grim messenger was hovering about, waiting for an opportunity to enter, but his approach was no longer dreaded. The chamber where the patient sufferer lay seemed the brightest in the house. Marion, who had constituted herself chief nurse, went in and came out with a smile. Her voice was often heard singing there, not sad, pensive strains, but notes with a ring of triumph. The names of our blessed Lord, Jesus, Immanuel, Saviour, were constantly repeated, and dwelt on lovingly. The very words seemed to give strength, even in the lingering echoes.
On one occasion, Mr. Asbury, too anxious to remain long absent from the house, quietly entered the chamber just as Marion began a familiar hymn. He had often heard it before, but never with such a thrill as now. Even the dying girl was joining in the singing.
"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear,
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.
"It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,