“Who lives in that room?” I asked of a woman, pointing to a door in a house in my district. “A very old woman, but I do not think she would care to see you,” was the reply.
Some days after, being in the same house, I thought I would ask the old woman herself if she would like a visit from me. So I knocked at her door.
“Come in,” said a sharp clear voice.
I opened the door, and then saw before me indeed a very old woman—she was tall and erect, with a clear blue eye, but her face was literally furrowed with wrinkles.
“I have called to see if you would like a visit from me sometimes when I come to this house,” I said.
“Very much, ma’am. I am obliged to any lady who will take the trouble to come and see me,” said my old woman in a brisk cheerful voice.
So I sat down, and told her the house was a part of my district, and that it was a pleasure to me to come, and I hoped sometimes a visit of sympathy and kindness would be pleasant to her.
“Do you like living quite alone?” I asked.
“Oh yes, I have long outlived all who belonged to me. I am very old, I am ninety-three.”
“And can you do all you require for yourself?”
“Yes! people tell me of the infirmities of old age, but as yet, I know little of them. I can do all I need—I don’t require much for my support, and that I gain by taking in washing; and my employers are very good to me, and do not hurry me. I am very well—no pain, no aches my sight is quite good, and as you may perceive I am not at all deaf. I have many and great mercies—still with all this, I shall be glad when my summons comes.”
“Why should you be glad?” I asked. “You seem to have much to make life desirable?”
The old woman’s face was lighted up by a smile so bright and sweet, it seemed almost to chase away the wrinkles, as she answered, “Why should I be glad? Because I long to see Him who all my life long has cared for me, watched over me, redeemed me.”
“Then you love the Saviour who has done such great things for you, and therefore you long to be with Him. You will rejoice to see the city whose streets are gold, and the gates of pearl.”
“Yes” she replied, “but not because of the golden streets or gates of pearl. I never cared for smart things in this world, and I am very sure I shall not care for them in my Saviour’s presence. My delight will be to sit in the very lowest place near to my Lord and my God.”
I saw this dear old woman was indeed ready for the home prepared for her. I soon went again to see her, and found her the same holy, cheerful, happy person. She welcomed me with true Christian courtesy, and listened as I read God’s word to her with rapt attention.
I had seen her well as usual, when, on going a few days after, I was surprised on knocking at her door, to hear a very feeble voice say, “Come in,” and on entering her room I found the old woman in bed. “Ah,” she said, “I think the summons has come, I find now what are the infirmities of old age. On trying to rise this morning all power was gone. I cannot move—I am quite helpless, but I am very happy, the Saviour is so gently leading me. The woman in the next room, of whom I knew little, not hearing me move, came in to see what was the matter, and has been so kind, and now you have come. I seem to have all I want. But I cannot see you, my sight is become quite dim, but it is all right, and I am just waiting for my final call.”
“You have perfect peace,” I said, according to the promise, “because your mind is stayed on Him.”
“Yes,” she replied, “it is just that. This morning there came to my mind the text, And He said, Let us make man.” Surely if the blessed Trinity took all that trouble to make me, they will indeed never let go—I am safe, quite safe.”
She dwelt with a kind of rapture on the prospect of so soon being in the presence of her Lord; and she lay on her dying bed a picture of peace and trust.
Very soon her dearest wish was realized, and the spirit left its earthly tenement to enter that home prepared by the Saviour’s love for His faithful children.
On going after death into the next room to thank the neighbor who had shown her such prompt kindness, she said: “I need no thanks, I gained more than I gave.”
I never before saw such real faith in God and the Saviour as in that old woman. I saw religion was indeed a reality with her. I hope I may never forget the lesson I learned from that dying saint.
“My Father’s house on high,
Home of my soul! how near,
At times, to faith’s foreseeing eye,
Thy golden gates appear!
“Ah! then my spirit faints
To reach the land I love,
The bright inheritance of saints,
Jerusalem above!”
M. D. H.