ROSE was suffering greatly, the first time we made her acquaintance; but we found there was more than bodily pain trying her, for Rose was longing for peace with God. The dear child, when in health and strength, had been awakened to a sense of her need as a sinner, and when we saw her, she told us, with eyes full of tears, how she longed to know that she was saved. About a month afterward she found the peace for which she sought ―she was enabled to receive the Lord Jesus Christ, and thus the blessed gift of eternal life became hers. The peace she had was calm and deep―nothing seemed to ruffle it; her spirit dwelt in the very sunshine of God’s love.
Provided with the bare necessaries of life, Rose would exclaim from her bed of pain, “Oh, I often think of all my comforts, and how wonderful it is that things seem sent to me just when I want them!” The dear child was confined to her bed for more than three months, and was able only to lie in one position, yet the sweet smile of contentment ever rested on her countenance... “It is so nice to think that Jesus knows all I have to bear!” she said to us once.
During her sufferings our dear young friend found great joy in the texts, “In all their affliction He was afflicted”; “We have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities;” and such was the love of Christ to her in her heart, that, throughout her illness, no murmur was heard to escape from her lips, and her patient, gentle spirit was truly an example to all around her.
She liked to look on some large printed texts just opposite to her bed―” God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away”; “So shall we ever be with the Lord” ―and she would point to them, and say to her mother, whose heart was sad for her child, “It won’t be always so.” When she lay awake through the night, because of her pain, she told us she would long for the dawn that she might read the texts: “For, though I know them by heart, I like to read them much.” She would tell us, “Sometimes in the night, when the pain is very bad, I just pray to Jesus and then it seems better;” and again, “Often when I am awake alone all the texts seem to come to me.” On another occasion she said, “I do so like that text, ‘The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.’” (Rom. 8:18.)
It was on a May day that Rose said to her mother, “Mother, I have seen Jesus, and He says my place is not quite ready; I must wait a little longer, and I am quite willing to wait.” The following day she was very quiet, but remarked to a friend that she did wish she could have been the means of bringing someone to Jesus. Very early the next morning she called her mother, and said, “I am going now, I know it. Jesus has come for me. Don’t you see Him? He is here.” Then holding out her arms she said, “Yes, Jesus, I am coming.” She seemed to see the Lord with her mortal eyes, and then turning to her father she said, “You won’t forget, father; it is simply trusting in Jesus—you want peace, settled peace.” Then about five minutes before her brief life on earth was ended, she said, “Trust Jesus,” as if she wanted to leave that as her last word. She had said to her father a day or two before, “Dear father, the father who never said an unkind word to me, take me in your arms,” and lovingly he folded his darling girl to his bosom; then she said, “You will have my texts to look at when I am gone.”
Some pure white flowers and forget-me-nots were lovingly placed around her as a last token of affection; meet emblems were the former of her gentle spirit, “washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb,” and the latter seemed to bid her gentle loving words live in the memory of all who knew her May her last loving appeal, “Trust Jesus,” find an answer in many a heart; may her dire be fulfilled that she might be the means of bringing someone to Jesus. G. L.