"Why do you cry, Anna?" she said, "Are you sorry to see me go to my
Father's house?"
"But, Amelia, _I_ lose you; we all lose you; and ..."
"I do not like to hear you say that, Anna; do not repeat it, and do not
think of it. Our Saviour says that, 'He who believes on Him shall not
see death;' and I am certain, that my soul is about to join those of
His saints who have already departed this life, for His grace has also
justified _me._"
"Ah!" said her aunt, who had not left her bedside for two days, "you
have always done the will of God, dear Amelia; you are therefore sure
of going to Him."
"Dear aunt," she replied, with sorrow on her countenance, "I assure you
that you grieve me. I have been during the whole of my life, but a poor
sinner, and have by no means done what you say; but.... God Himself has
pardoned me, and it is only, my dear aunt, because the blood of Jesus
has washed away my sins, that I shall see God."
It was thus, my sister, that Amelia spoke at intervals almost the whole
night. Her voice at length became weaker; and towards morning, after a
slight drowsiness, she said to her father, "Papa, embrace your child
once more." She then turned to her mother, and said, "My dear mamma,
embrace me also, and ... may Jesus comfort you all!"
A few minutes after, our darling friend fell gradually asleep, and her
last breath died away like the expiring flame of a candle. She
experienced nothing of the agony of death. Truly, dear Esther, Amelia
knew not what death was!
But oh! how I have myself suffered! and how difficult it is to tear
one's self thus forever here below, from such a friend as she was!
Nevertheless, my sister, God knows we have not dared to murmur. I wish
you had heard the prayer that Amelia's father offered up, when his
daughter had ceased to breathe! Oh! it was the spirit of consolation
itself which spoke! And since that solemn hour, what piety, what
strength and peace of mind, Amelia's mother his displayed! I am sure
you would have said, that the Lord was present, and that He was telling
us with His own voice: "Amelia triumphs--she is in _My_ glory!"
I wished to be in the churchyard when our friend, or rather, when her
body of dust, was committed to the grave. There were many persons
present, but especially poor people; some old men, and several
children, came to take their last leave of her.
A grey-headed and feeble old man was standing near the grave, leaning
with his two hands on a staff, and with his head depressed. He wept
aloud, when the clergyman mentioned Amelia's name, as he prayed, and
gave thanks to God. He then stooped down, and taking a little earth in
his hand, said, as he scattered it over the coffin: "Sleep, sweet
messenger of consolation! Sleep, until He whom thy lips first
proclaimed to me, calls thee to arise!" And with this, he burst into
tears, as they filled the grave.
When all was finished, and the funeral procession had departed, the
poor people who were present approached the grave, sobbing, and
repeating, "Sweet messenger of goodness! Our kind friend, our _true_
mother!" And two or three of the children placed upon her grave
nosegays of box and white flowers.
"Alas," said a young girl, "she will never hear me read the Bible
again, nor instruct me how to live!"
Another cried loudly, "Who will now come to visit my sick mother, and
read the Bible to her, and bring her comfort and assistance."
And there was a father, a poor workman, with two little boys, who,
holding his children by the hand, came and placed himself near the spot
where the head of Amelia was laid, saying to them, "Here, my poor
children, under this sod, rests that sweet countenance which used to
smile upon you, as if she had been your mother! Her lips have often
told you, that you were not orphans, and that God was better to you
than a parent.... Well, my dear children, let us remember what she used
to say: 'God has not forgotten us, and He will sustain us!'"
I was with my brother, who himself wept with all his heart, to see the
sincere grief of these poor people. He whispered to me, "I have a great
mind to speak to them, and ask them what Amelia used to do for them." I
had the same wish; so we approached a group which surrounded the grave,
and asked them when they had become acquainted with Amelia.
"For my part," answered the old man, already spoken of, "this messenger
of peace visited me two years ago, for the first time. I lived near a
family to whom she had brought some worsted stockings, for winter was
just setting in, and so my neighbor mentioned me to her, as a poor
infirm old man. She desired to see me, and had she been my own
daughter, she could never have shown me more respect and kindness! She
procured me a warm quilt that same evening, and on the morrow, towards
the middle of the day, she came with her excellent mother to pay me a
long visit.
"You must know, sir," continued the old man, to my brother, "I was then
very ignorant, or rather my heart was hard and proud towards God. I had
no Bible, and did not care about one. Well, this dear young lady not
only brought me one, with her own hands, but came to read and explain
it to me, with great patience, at least three times a week, during the
first twelve months.
"God took pity on me," added the old man, in a low voice, "and last
year I began better to understand the full pardon which is in Christ
Jesus, and was even able to pray with Miss Amelia.
"She used sometimes to call me, 'My old father,' but it was I who ought
to have called _her_ the _mother_, the true mother of my soul.
"Just one month ago, she came to me for the last time; she gave me with
a sweet smile, these worsted gloves, which she had knitted herself, and
then recommended me with much respect and kindness to thank our Lord,
who sent them me! This was the last of that sweet lady's charities to
me!"...
Upon this, the old man turned away weeping, and as he walked slowly on,
he frequently looked back upon the newly-covered grave.
"The same thing happened to me," said the workman. "The mother of these
two little children died ten months ago; we were in want of everything,
then, and I knew not even how to dress these children. Believe me,
Miss," he added, addressing me with feeling, "when the mother is gone,
all is gone!... but our gracious God did not forsake us, for He sent us
his angel; I say His angel, although she is at present much more than
an angel!... Is she not indeed a child of God in heaven? ... but, in
short, she clothed these two little ones, and I am sure she did not
spare herself in working for them; the clothes they now wear were made
chiefly by that dear young lady's hands. Then she used to come and
visit us; she often made my two children go to her house, and always
gave them good advice. She also sent them to school, and although it
was certainly her mother who paid for them, yet it was Miss Amelia who
taught them to read at home, and who, almost every Sunday, made them
repeat their Bible lessons.
"Ah, Miss," he continued, "all that that dear young lady did for us,
for our souls as well as for our bodies, will only be known in heaven,
and at the last day. For my part, and I say it here over her grave, and
in the presence of God, I am certain, that when the Lord Jesus shall
raise us all up again, the works of Miss Amelia will follow her, and we
shall then see that while upon earth she served God with all her heart.
"No," he added, as he wiped away the tears from his children's eyes, "I
would not wish her to return from the glory which she now enjoys, at
the same time I cannot conceal from you, that my heart mourns for her,
and that I know we have lost our consolation, our benefactress, our
faithful friend!"
"Who has not lost one?" exclaimed a poor woman, at whose side stood the
little girls who had planted the flowers; "I know very well that Miss
Amelia's mother will take her place, she is so good and kind! but it
was no little joy to receive a visit from that sweet and amiable young
lady, so good, so pious, and so full of joy. Oh! what should I have
done with my husband, so long confined to his bed, if this messenger of
goodness had not procured work for me, and recommended me to the ladies
who now employ me. And then again, what were we, until Miss Amelia
spoke to us? How much she had to put up with when I refused to read the
Holy Scriptures! and yet she was never weary of me. Oh! no; she came
day after day, to exhort and to teach me, and blessed be God, we begin
now to know something of what the Saviour has done for us.
"And," added she, drawing the little girl towards her, "I shall go on
with my dear children, reading and learning that word of God, which was
Miss Amelia's greatest joy.
"Come, come, my friends," she said, in a persuasive tone, "_we_ must
also die, and be put each in his turn, under this ground; but as our
benefactress is not dead ... (no, she is not dead, for the Lord has
said it!)--so also shall not we die, if we follow in her steps."
The poor woman then wished us good day, and moved away with her
children. We all walked on together, still speaking of Amelia. My
brother took the names and addresses of many of the poor people, with
whom he had just been conversing, and spoke a few words to them of
comfort and encouragement.
As soon as we were alone, he showed me the list of names, at the head
of which was that of the old man, and he said, "Here is a blessed
inheritance which Amelia has left us. She has done as Dorcas did: her
hands have clothed the poor, and her lips have spoken comfort to them.
Dear Anna, Amelia was not older than we are; let us remember this, for
we know not when the Lord shall call us."
How wise and pious this dear brother is! We have already been able to
pay together, two of Amelia's visits. Her mother, to whom we related
all we had heard, gave us further particulars of what the pious and
indefatigable Amelia used to do. Ah Esther, her religion was not mere
"lip-service." The Spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ assisted her, and
she might have said with truth, I show "my faith by my works."
Let us take courage, then, my dear and kind sister! we lament our loss
in Amelia's death, but on her own account I lament her not. I can only
contemplate her in the presence of God, and of her Saviour, and I
rejoice to think of her delight when she entered the region of heaven.
How beautiful it must be, Esther, to behold the glory of that heaven!
to hear the voices of saints and angels, and to know that God loves us,
and will make us happy forever.