LATE at night, Edward arrived at his destination, took a lodging for the night, and the next morning went to the hospital to get advice. The doctors said they could do nothing for him unless he became an inmate of the building for a time, and he, for the sake of his wife and child, became one.
Elizabeth was long afterward told, that they knew he was near his end, and thought that he was better in the hospital than in lodgings. She eagerly waited for tidings of her husband's return; so imagine her feelings when she received a letter, informing her that her husband was an inmate of a hospital, with stranger hands ministering to his wants.
The next day she decided to go to him, and know full particulars. She and her child arrived at the town, sought a lodging for the night, and the next morning went to see her husband.
Noble institutions are these hospitals, and noble hearts had the founders of them, but no one can portray fully the wife's feelings when, at the far end of a long ward, she saw her husband looking pale and wan, and looking, too, at least ten years older than when she last saw him. Anxiety had made havoc of his feeble frame.
The doctor had written over his bed the Latin word for consumption, not thinking that his patient would know its meaning. The word itself, together with being told to keep his bed, made all hope cease. He knew his weakness; that he could work no longer for his wife and child.
Edward was very unhappy in this place; his wife saw that he was, and offered to get a lodging. Oh! how gladly did he fall in with this idea. Elizabeth now seemed to lose all hope; but she felt that she would like to minister to his wants herself, instead of strangers doing so. Intuition seemed to tell her, that those pleasant evenings in the home on the mountains were over forever. But even there, she had at times her misgivings. One evening he asked her to read a hymn he had composed: —
“Jesus, Lord Jesus, how oft would I fly
Thy face, to see.
Gazing on Thee, now exalted on high,
Comforteth me.
Boundless the love that surrounds me, I know;
Living the streams that continually flow,
Down to the poor wearied pilgrim below,
Savior from Thee.
“Here oft I tremble a sigh of regret,
Waiting for Thee.
Star of the morning, that never can set,
Coming for me.
Lord, when Thou comest, from sorrow I rest,
Deep drink of joy, and lean on Thy breast,
Satisfied fully I in Thy presence blest,
Savior with Thee.
“Saints now united, in glory ne'er part,
Savior from Thee.
One is the object and hope of the heart—
Jesus 'tis Thee.
The rivers of crystal and city of God,
Portals of pearls, such a glory unfold;
But, what are these, when Thy face I behold?
Nothing to me?
“List what the Bride and the Spirit doth say:
Come, come away.
Let him that heareth the word, Come, say
Come, come away.
Jesus now testifies, I quickly come,
To take my beloved ones up to my home;
Oh I may our hearts echo back to His own,
Come, Jesus, come.”
Elizabeth, with a great effort, read this hymn.
Edward wrote a letter to his father (the last letter he ever wrote to that loved parent) asking him to sing, with the rest of the family, this poem, when all were gathered around the old harmonium.
After Edward was on foreign shores, he valued the Christian home of his childhood as he had never done before. When he saw the ungodly homes around him, the infidelity and its consequences, he loved to think of his boyhood's home and of his Christian parents.
A time came when Elizabeth formed one of the circle in that home, and around the old harmonium she joined in singing the hymn of her loved one, not with breaking heart, but with a heart full of thankfulness that her husband was free from all pain, safe in his home in glory, and she had proved Jehovah-Jesus that He could far more than make amends for earthly loss. It was through deep and sore sorrows, however, ere she could speak of His love, even in this measure.
Elizabeth found a clean, comfortable lodging, and went with a vehicle the next day to the hospital for her husband. When he came to the lodging and saw it replete with comfort, she saw his look of satisfaction. Elizabeth had brought him here that her hands might minister to him; but her God and Father would not have it so, His way was the best way as after events proved.
Edward was to have no earthly prop to lean on as he passed through the valley of the shadow of death. Jesus was His only stay. Truly Edward, the passage was a rough one that preceded thy entry into that blissful harbor, but it only made thy rest more sweet and Christ more dear. They partook of tea together on their arrival at this lodging. Edward, with an unnatural energy to cheer his wife, had moved to the table. This was the last meal they were to partake of together on earth. God knew it; they did not, and well was it that the veil was drawn. How our fainting hearts would sink if we knew all that we had to go through. He who knows our feeble frame, has mercifully hidden the future. He has also said, "As thy day so shall thy strength be," and "My grace is sufficient for thee.”
That night Elizabeth awoke suddenly from a sound slumber and became delirious. Her husband was removed into another apartment, and she was left by him to be taken care of by the woman of the house. We will leave her now, only to say, that Edward came to her bedside once, and earnestly with his now enfeebled voice prayed for her recovery; that she might be restored to her child. This prayer was answered; but in God's own way and time. His way was the best way, and His own time the right time.
Edward's faith, as he approached the end, shone brighter and brighter. The woman of the house, who attended to him, and the doctor pressed him to write on paper what he wished done with regard to his wife and child; and one day, the woman having got a certificate from the doctor that his disease was approaching a fatal termination, put it into the dying man's hands. He, however, did not waver. He would do nothing but trust them to Jehovah, the Father of the Fatherless, and the Husband of the widow.
It was a test to his faith to know that his wife and child were on foreign shores and with no means of support. He knew that he was powerless to help; but he knew that the God who had led him hitherto was a faithful Promiser, so with calmness, he awaited his exit into glory. He was sitting in his chair the day before he departed. On the morning of his passing into the eternal world, he was too weak to get up.
Towards the evening, the landlady came into the room, she did not notice any change. In the morning he had asked her to read to him Psa. 116, and also a hymn: —
“Rest of the saints above,
Jerusalem of God.”
and he feebly marked the following verse:
“And by the Spirit's power
He's ope'd the heavenly door,
And brought me to this favored hour,
When toil shall all be o'er.”
Edward must have felt that his end was near, for as the woman was about to leave the room he, with an unnatural energy, called her. She returned to his bedside, and in ten minutes afterward he peacefully slept away, to awake on that glad morn to meet the Lord he loved so well. His happy spirit is however with him now, he has passed the portals and is resting now on his Savior's breast:—
“Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast;
Free from the world's temptations,
Sweetly his soul shall rest.”
A few Christians took him to his last resting place one Sunday afternoon. The rain was pouring in torrents; but what of that to the sleeping saint. His soul was in the paradise above,
“Where he will know, without a cloud,
His full unbounded love.”
Edward had often wished to be a missionary. God gave him his wish for a short time. That Pacific isle gave him a home till he set out again on another voyage; but this time he was "bound for the evergreen shore.”