Yes, there was no one like her, my beloved sister, all love, kindness, meekness, generosity, power of mind and body, and withal filled with grace from above. The blessed Holy Spirit working within her at all times, times of peace, of joy, of sorrow or grief, times of health or illness, of life or death, for indeed her death was one of the most beautiful I have ever heard of. I will try in a measure to tell you of her last moments. It was about the year 1855 when our blessed mother died and Sophia happened to be lodging at Weston-Super-Mare. She came home to be at mother’s funeral and appeared so delicate that the first physician in Exeter was called in to see her and he at once said, “Weston is too cold for her, she must stay at home,” and privately he told my sister Caroline: “She is dying, and has only a few days to live!! Yes, yes, it came on us so quickly. Her last moments were glorious. We had left her for a moment to do something for her comfort, but heard her say:” Come Jesus, come, come. I have tried to glorify Thee. I think Thine image is in me now. “I approached and said,” It is Heaven.” “Yes, it is, and Jesus is come to fetch me. Oh, it is magnificent.” She stopped in terrible horror, clenched her dear lips, as seeing some horrible object behind her as she turned her head slowly and in a voice imperial in firmness, said, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” Then vanished every cloud and out shone the radiance on her face. Raising her arms she cried, “Jesus, His righteousness is mine.” Then, hearing we spoke in choking utterance she said, “Rejoice, rejoice, is not this what I have longed for. Jesus has come to receive me,” and when our dear old servant entered the room she said, “Oh, Dimond, come to Jesus. Thank you so much for all you have done for me. Oh, come to Jesus, He is waiting for you. Do come and cast yourself on Him.” Then, to us, she said, “Tell Henry not to fear death, and thank you all, and dearest Emily, she brought me flowers.”
Then, whilst sending her love to an old school fellow, her lip fell, and we gazed but only on the dead.
Emily P. Leakey.