THIN K that, perhaps, some of you, my readers, may miss the initials "D. & A. C.," which have become familiar to you through years gone by, and that you may be interested in hearing how the Lord was pleased to take D. home to the exceeding gladness of His presence.
I should like you to know that, in her girlhood, D. received Christ Jesus for her Savior—learned to “trust Him wholly, and found Him wholly true." From that time, with unwavering steadfastness, she sought to follow Him in the way.
Many, in the village where she lived, could speak of her years of patient, unobtrusive labor for the Master she so loved; of her gentle sympathy in sharing the burdens of the tired mothers; of her loving ministry of Christ to the aged, the sick, and the dying ; of her earnest pleadings of the claims of God with the young women of her Bible-class; of her unflinching faithfulness in every question where Christ's honor was concerned. Her service among us seemed so needful, so unfinished—the tale not told—when the end came.
After some months of ever-increasing suffering, borne with undaunted courage, D. at length understood that it was the will of God to take her to Himself. Then it was that she wrote in her little diary, “So this is to set the captive free; but I dare not think of my A."—the sister on whom she had lavished a wealth of love and tenderness. On the same day, to a sister at a distance, she wrote, "And now that it has come, you must not shed one tear, my darling, that such a suffering life, as mine has been of late, is soon going to end in the glory. God does so lovingly mingle mercies with trials...I am looking forward eagerly to E.'s arrival tomorrow morning to dry poor A.'s tears. We had so reckoned on ending our days together, but God will do what is best for each of us... May God bless and comfort you. If ye loved Me, ye would rejoice, because I go unto the Father.'—Your fond sister, D."
To the same she writes a day or two later: "The tidings which sounded so sadly for earth will be very bright for eternity! Indeed, if we could all of us go up together, as you say, my darling—but we may yet, and if not, I have quite the feeling it will be very soon after. One of my poor girls came to see me on Sunday, with red, swollen eyes, and said, Oh, miss, you've always spoken so much of the Lord's coming! "'
A few days before the Lord took her she wrote to another sister: —"I have been meaning for days to write to you, but find letters now so fatiguing that they generally get put off till the morrow. However, I am nearing the rest that remains for the people of God, so must not give up work too soon.... How good it was of God to give us that happy week of Christian converse in the summer! I am always so thankful that I had such nice goodbye talks with you and dear D. Now my voice is so gone that those with me get nothing from me, while those away do get a stray note. My heart aches over my precious A, but God will comfort her, and make her His own petted child. For myself it is all bright on before, and I hope soon to be in the Father's house.
“My fond love to you both."
To a loved suffering friend she wrote:" I have been intending writing to you every day for the last six weeks, but now, like yourself, have to wait for a good day,' and as that is not likely to come to me again in this world I won't delay longer....It strikes me as wonderfully strange that, after all the long years of suffering you have gone through, God should first strike off my chains and set me free. I have left it to A. to tell you that I am nearing the Father's house; all joy for me. . . . . Farewell, beloved L., till we meet in the glad resurrection. I have learned much from your patient example."
Wonderful was the peace—the very peace of God—that filled that sick room. Never one murmuring word passed D.'s patient lips, however keen the pain. In unruffled calm did she walk through the valley of the shadow of death, leaning upon her Beloved.
During those last days she said more than once how strongly she felt that a death-bed was no place in which to settle the great question of the soul's salvation, and remarked sorrowfully how very unsatisfactory any so-called death-bed conversions that we had known had been.
When I told D. that the doctor had said he did not think she would live through the day, she exclaimed, “Oh, praise the Lord I ' should be so glad to go."
Later she said, “I do not think I shall die today, but if the Lord would take me I should be so grateful." She dictated a few farewell words to one of our sisters
“Never did more weary pilgrim tread the path to the pearly gates....Make much of Christ. Anything else seems of so little value to me now. I am going where, if one had them, one would give worlds to have been more true to Him."
I stood near the window, watching the sun sinking placidly to rest, my heart full of my beloved one, who was just doing likewise; said, “It is a peaceful sunset ; and here, in this room, it is peace—perfect peace."
“Yes," she answered earnestly, and did not speak again.
Not long after, with a prolonged sigh, her freed spirit took its flight to Him in whose presence is fullness of joy.
The path of " patient continuance in well-doing " for His name's sake is ended, and she has entered into the joy of her Lord, where “His servants shall serve Him, and they shall see His face, and His name shall be in their foreheads."
And so D. and A. C. are, for awhile, sundered! If I sometimes address you, our former readers, I hope you will kindly extend a welcome to me under the initials A. P. C.