In the autumn of 1887, the fatal languor that often accompanies consumption appeared in Ellen, and, though she bore up bravely for a little time, she had at length to leave her place and go home. Going home to die seems hard for young ones like Ellen to think of, yet there is no staying the Hand that strikes. The summons must be obeyed. In such a case the great question arises, "Are we ready, or are we not?" Ellen's earthly home had no mother to welcome the child, or to soothe her in her dying hours; and no one can truly fill the mother's place at such a time. But it was not to be long. Soon she was beyond the reach of mortal aid, and want, pain, and care had passed away for ever.
The father gives the following particulars of what he witnessed in Ellen, and it is well indeed when parents can give such testimonies of their children:—
"She was a very dutiful girl, and very quiet—so much so, that I seldom had to rebuke her; always very attentive at school, and, when out at service, she would attend the house of God if possible. All this was very good; but I wanted something further, and when she first came home ill, I wanted it made manifest that the Lord had begun a work of grace in her soul, and that she had been truly 'born again.'
"One morning, as I went home from chapel, Ellen said to me, 'Father, Mr. D—— has been to see me.' I then asked her, 'Did he talk to you? and did you like what he said?' She answered, 'Yes, very much, and I should like for him to come again.' Then, bursting into tears, she said, 'I should so like to be able to answer him better, but I cannot. I should so much like to go to chapel again.' And when her sister asked her if she thought she should get better, she said she did not know, but should so like to go to school once more.
"The night before she died, I saw a great change in her, and I asked her if she ever prayed to the Lord for mercy. 'Yes,' she said, 'sometimes I wake up in the night and pray to Him. I should not mind death if I knew my sins were pardoned. There is nothing to stop here for if I knew this.'"
The writer has seen her weep much, when speaking to her of the certainty of death and the judgment, the sufferings of Jesus, and the abundance of pardon through His blood. Can there be a more touching sight than to see a child fourteen years old weeping and praying in sincerity for mercy, as a guilty sinner before God?
Ellen died so suddenly that nothing further was gathered from her lips, but we believe her end was peace. She quietly passed away on February 10th, 1888, aged fourteen years.
In connection with her and her prayers and tears, these lines seem very sweet to me—
"Did ever mourner plead with Thee,
And Thou reject that mourner's plea?
Does not Thy Word of truth remain,
That none shall seek Thy face in vain?"
Henry was two years older than his sister Ellen, and, like her, had to commence work early, and bear the yoke in his youth. He had been a regular attendant at the Sabbath School, and was truly a promising boy. Quiet and serious he went on his way, and read his Bible, which, through faith in Christ Jesus, is able to make wise unto salvation. He was, in the leadings of Providence, called to labour at a place where he had some work to do on Sunday mornings, and it was noticed that he seemed put out in his mind if he was ever prevented from attending school.