Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/117

Rh my neck, she gave me an ardent embrace; I was unutterably affected. "Be composed, my dear," said she, "and let these precious moments be as calm as possible; we may not be allowed another opportunity. Dear faithful friend, in life,—in death, dearer to me than my own soul,—God reward you for all the kind care you have taken of me. O! may my heavenly Father provide some one to supply my place, who may reciprocate the kindness you have shown me. Pray be composed; remember we are not at home; that we shall shortly meet in our Father's house"—here she paused—and again resuming—"Our parting, when compared with eternity, will be but for a moment. What though we have not continued together so long as we fondly expected, yet, my love, we have had an age of happiness. It is you, my precious husband, who are the object of pity. God all gracious console, and support you. Be of good cheer, my love, we shall meet in the kingdom of the Redeemer—indeed, indeed we shall." Again she threw her dying arms around me; her soul seemed struggling with the magnitude of her emotions. For me, I could not have articulated a syllable for the world. It is astonishing I did not expire; but there is a time to die. Again, like the wasting taper, she seemed to revive. Again, with uncommon energy, she pronounced, upon her almost frenzied husband, the most solemn benediction; this brought on a cough, she pointed to a phial upon her dressing table. I gave her a few drops. "There, my best friend, I am better—Be composed my faithful, my suffering guide, protector, husband. Oh! trust in the Lord: let us, my love, stay upon the God of our salvation; He will never leave us; He will never forsake us"—Then, grasping my hand, she continued: "These moments, my dear, are very precious; we have had many precious moments; you will not go out again, I shall not again lose sight of you. You will abide with me, so long as I shall continue"—I could contain no longer: My suppressed agony became audible; she drew me to her: "Do not distress me, my love"—She was deeply affected; her cough came on with additional violence. The sound of my voice brought in the kind lady of the house; she believed the angel had escaped. I requested her, to reach the phial. The expiring saint motioned it away; "It is too late, my love," she would have added; but utterance instantly failed her, and, without a single struggle, she breathed her last, still holding my hand fast in hers. I was on my knees by her bedside; I saw she was breathless, but she still held my hand. Ten thousand worlds, had I possessed them, I would have given for permission to have accompanied her beatified spirit. I am astonished that I retained my reason.