I HAD knocked for some time at the door of a cottage in a Cornish village without meeting with any answer, when a neighbor coming out of the next house said—
“There’s no one there, sir, but an old woman; she's very deaf, so she can't hear you, and almost blind, too. But walk in, sir, if you please," she continued, opening the door, and I followed her into the house.
Beside an old stool in front of the fire, her arms extended, as if in the act of receiving and speaking to someone, knelt the dear old woman.
“What is she doing?” I said, softly.
“Praying, sir," replied the neighbor. After waiting a few moments I said—
“Does she pray long?”
“Oh, yes; she often prays for hours together, sometimes nearly all day long."
“Do you think she will be long now?" I asked, as we still waited.
“Perhaps an hour, sir,"—and the kindly neighbor went back to her own home, leaving me with the aged woman, who knelt on, unconscious of the presence of a stranger.
Presently I, too, knelt down behind her, and heard her say—
“Yes, my blessed Saviour, yes, Thou hast washed me in Thy precious blood, Thy precious, precious blood. Blessed, blessed Jesus, Thou hast washed all my sins away, and I want to see Thee, to see Thyself, my precious Saviour." She paused, then spoke again.
“I am very old, and very weak, and bad, and perhaps it will be sudden death, but then it will be sudden glory; won't it, Lord Jesus? Yes, sudden glory! And I shall be with Thee, shan't I? Yes, with Thyself, my precious Saviour.
"I have known Thee thirty-five years, and I love Thee the better the more I know Thee; but there are some in this town," and here her voice fell from its tone of rapturous expectation, and took a pleading strain-"th ere are some in this town who don't know Thee; and I want Thee, Lord Jesus, to save them. They don't want Thee; they are ignorant of Thee, but Thou did'st die for sinners. Send out Thy glorious gospel with power, and convert the people; fill Thy servants with Thy Spirit, and help them to speak of Thee as they ought to speak."
Then followed special prayer for her friends and neighbors, and after again pleading for blessing upon her native town, asking all in the name of Jesus, she quietly rose from her knees.
I gently touched her, and said, as she started in surprise—
“You have been speaking to the Lord Jesus, have you not?”
“Yes," she replied, " I can't do without going to Him, and very often too. But who are you? Do you love Him? "
“Yes," I said, " I do."
"Praise His blessed name," she murmured, as she fixed her dim eyes upon my face; "He is worthy, isn't He? The more I know Him the more I love Him-don't you? "
Then, as if forgetting the presence of any but the One whom she so loved, she went on, " I shall soon see His blessed face-shan't I, Lord Jesus? Soon see Thy blessed face! Sometimes," she continued, turning again to me, “He tells me that it won't be long; I do see Him now by faith, but I want to be with Him where He is; that's where I want to be. Ah! and He tells me I shall soon see Him," she repeated—clasping her thin hands in ecstacy and again addressing, not me, but Him, whom having not seen, she loved, in whom even now she rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory,— "I shall be with Thee, Lord Jesus—shan't I? Yes, with Thyself—shan't I? "
The furniture of the little room was scanty, and the state of this aged woman was helpless. Her husband worked at breaking stones upon the road, she said, and they were very poor. Before I left she fell upon her knees, and prayed for me in the most tender and touching manner, asking the Lord to bless me, and to give me souls for my hire. And so I left her alone, yet not alone, in her little cottage, poor and mean indeed to outward seeming, but the dwelling-place of one “rich in faith, an heir of the kingdom which God hath promised to them that love Him."