MARY was the daughter of a servant of God, in our neighborhood; she had been brought up in the love and fear of the Lord, and was early called to the service of the Saviour, and early obeyed the call. She had a sweet, smiling face, and always appeared cheerful and happy. Life opened before her very brightly, and as she was an only daughter, who could wonder that her father should hope to enjoy the companionship of such a daughter for many years, or that her mother and brother should delight in her? But the ways of God are, often inscrutable; He “moves in a mysterious way,” and to us it appeared a most strange providence that our young friend should early wither and fade, and that the life which might have been so useful should soon be lost. Did we say lost? No, not lost; for it had been everlastingly found in Christ.
Our loved one was ill a long time. She caught a slight cold in the spring of the year, only slight, we thought it, and at first no danger was apprehended; but she gradually grew worse, and, notwithstanding every remedy that affectionate love could try or medical skill suggest, the dear girl continued to get worse and worse. Throughout the long trying days and sleepless nights Mary was never heard to murmur. She was not only cheerful, but even merry at times: she would converse upon the subject of her death in perfect peace and with real happiness.
Who could depict the calmness and peacefulness which pervaded the whole household? Her beloved brother gave up his occupation and came to cheer the dying couch of his precious sister; but she herself was the one who often cheered the hearts of those so soon to be bereaved. God was the portion of her much-loved father, and he was able to submit without a murmuring, word to the early death of his darling child. Could they grieve, as those who have no hope, when the light of heaven was already reflected in the face of the patient sufferer? How like the entrance gates to the celestial city did her sick room become!
On the Monday before her death, Mary thought she was going, and so, indeed, did her friends. The sick girl looked around upon her sorrowing father and mother and brother, and, thinking herself about to leave them, exclaimed, “My love to all. There is Light in the Valley!”
But she again rallied, and spent another night awaiting the summons. On the Tuesday morning Mary said to a friend, “I wonder if Jesus will come and fetch me today.” She then began talking to the Lord in a most simple and childlike manner, saying “Oh, Lord Jesus, come and fetch me.” But again, it was not to be upon that day. On Wednesday morning, those who were about her bed saw that her eyes were very much dilated and fixed; she exclaimed, in a tone of wonder, “Oh! what do I see?” “It is the angels coming to fetch you, my dear,” replied her brother. A young, friend who was present, repeated a verse of the hymn—
“Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the gath’ring waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.”
These words the dying girl followed, at first in an audible tone, but gradually only her lips moved, the voice being silent, and with one gentle sigh she passed away. About a month before her death, Mary declared that the time of her illness had been the happiest time of her whole life.
My young reader, are you perhaps looking forward to a long life? “Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.” This young girl had as bright an eye, and as rosy a cheek as it is possible you could have. When we looked upon her merry face, how could we possibly anticipate that the lamp of her life should so soon be put out? And what authority have you that your morning of life shall not end ‘ere noon? Are you ready? Oh! could you know Christ, as our dear Mary did, so that to die might be gain. My young reader, stop and think, for you have a soul to be saved or lost. Which will it be? Mary was leaving behind all that could make life happy, yet she was willing to go, and could say as she passed through the dark shadows of death, “There is Light in the Valley.”
RHODA.