Seeing me weep very much, on one occasion, she exclaimed, "My precious mother, I do love you! Why do you grieve about me? I am not afraid to die. I want to go to my precious Lord, and be with Him for ever." I said, "My dear child, why do you believe you shall go to heaven? Do you think you have merited it?" "Oh, no, mother," was her immediate reply. "I am a guilty sinner. It is through the Lord Jesus, and for His sake, that I hope to be saved. Do you not think, dear mother, He will pardon me?" I said, "Yes, if you feel your need of Him." She answered, "I believe He has pardoned me."
After the prayer previously mentioned, and partly recorded, she said, "How good the Lord is to me! Oh, my precious Jesus," &c. "Oh, mother," she said, in reply to a question, "I know I love the Lord. Yes, I do; better than everything else in the world."
At another time she cried out, in a loud impressive tone, "Oh, mother, what is there in this world worth living for? It is all stuff and vanity—it is, mother. Oh, I do not want to live here! Pray the dear Lord to take me to Himself. Oh, how blessed to be with my precious Jesus for ever!"
When informed of the death and burial of her brother, she appeared excited, but at last said, "Dear boy! I hope I shall soon be with him, and then we shall meet to part no more." She then asked me to pray again that God would take her. How could I? "Nature has soft but powerful bands," and the ligaments were not yet severed. She seemed my earthly all. Could I surrender her to the arms of the destroyer? Could I look up and say, "Thy will be done"? What grace we need to glorify God in the fires!
Nine days after her illness she raised herself up in her bed, and, looking at her departing sister, said, "There is my dying sister. Where is she going? Where? Why, to the realms of bliss? And who of us next? Why, myself, I believe, mother. But I am not afraid of death," &c.
At another time she said, "Do read to me, dear mother"; and upon my asking her where, she replied, "Read about the sufferings of Christ" I did so, and she afterwards engaged in prayer.
At another time the nurse heard her, during the night, earnestly praying for both her parents and herself.
Once she requested me to read the seventeenth chapter of John, remarking at the time, "That is sweet reading." After listening for a time she fell into a short sleep, and I laid the Book down. When she awoke she exclaimed, "Won't you read to me, my dear mother?" I said, "You dropped off into a sleep, my dear." She then tried to read herself, but failing, returned the Book, immediately adding, "Give it me again and let me kiss it, for I love it very much."
At different times she expressed earnest desires to go to her brother and sister, and for her father and mother and sister to go also; and would try to sing a part of that Sabbath School hymn, chorusing—"Oh, that will be joyful," &c.
Two days before she died she exclaimed, with sweet simplicity, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me"; and shortly after, "Precious Bible! what a treasure," &c.