Another narrative, respecting a dying woman, displays a faith so
strong, a hope so full of immortality, as may lead the Christian reader
to exclaim, "Let my last hours be like those of this poor slave." Agnes
Morris, a poor negro woman, sent a pressing request to Mrs. Thwaites,
a lady residing in Antigua, to visit her: she was in the last stage of
dropsy.
This poor creature ranked among the lowest class of slaves. Her all
consisted of a little wattled[2] hut and a few clothes. Mrs. Thwaites,
finding her at the commencement of her illness in a very destitute
condition, mentioned her case to a friend, who gave her a coat. When
she paid her last visit, on her entering the door, Agnes exclaimed,
"Missis! you come! This tongue can't tell what Jesus do for me! Me
call my Saviour day and night; and He come"--laying her hand on her
breast--"He comfort me here."
On being asked if she was sure of going to heaven when she died,
she answered, "Yes, me sure. Me see de way clear, and shine before
me"--looking and pointing upward with a smiling face. "If di dis
minute, Jesus will take me home, me ready." Some hymns being sung,
she was in a rapture of joy; and in reference to the words of one of
them, exclaimed, "For me--for me--poor sinner!"--lifting up her swelled
hands--"what a glory! what a glory!"
Seeing her only daughter weeping, she said, "What you cry for? No
cry--follow Jesus--He will take care of you." And turning to Mrs.
Thwaites, she said, "Missis, show um de path:" meaning the path to
heaven. Many other expressions fell from her of a similar nature,
to the astonishment of those who heard her. It was understood she
continued praying and praising God to her latest breath.
This poor creature was destitute of all earthly comforts. Her bed was a
board, with a few plantain leaves over it. How many of these outcasts
will be translated from outward wretchedness to realms of glory, there
to mingle with the blessed, and sing praises to Hun who lives for ever!