In the afternoon her son Richard arrived from Torquay, providentially in time to witness the last solemn and mournful scene, and to administer words of comfort and encouragement.  The valley was fall of light, and a momentary cloud which skirted the horizon, occasioned by the deep sense she felt of her own unprofitableness, melted away at the presence of Him whom, having not seen, she loved, and whose name was last upon her lips.  My brother says, “I found her very ill, but most delighted and thankful for my arrival.  ’Praise the Lord, I am glad to see you,’ was her characteristic salutation.  “Well, Mother, I find you resting on Jesus?” “Yes,” was the reply, “but I have been so unfaithful.”  “You have nothing to do with that now; you must look only to Jesus.  You believe His atonement is sufficient to cover all your unfaithfulness?” “Oh! yes, I do.”  “You know that Paul, and Mr. Wesley had nothing else to plead but this,—­

  ’I the chief of sinners am,
  But Jesus died for me.’”

From that moment, looking off from herself, she trusted in Christ alone, and was fully saved and sustained by divine grace.  Leaning on her Beloved, she was now ready to pass over Jordan;—­not its “swellings,” the stream was narrow, and neither deep nor troubled.  A little time and she was on the opposite plains; but before she landed, she uttered words of triumph, the sounds of which fell faintly on our ears.

In the devotions of the evening, which we conducted in her room, she participated with holy delight, and listened to the former part of the 14th chapter of St. John’s Gospel, with an evident appreciation of its overflowing fulness of consolation.  In Jesus she contemplated the revealed glory of the Father, and her believing “Amen” made the blessedness of the revelation all her own.  After giving me some final directions, especially with respect to her manuscripts and letters;—­directions which were short and clear; and given with her wonted happy expression of countenance, and cheerfulness of manner; she gradually yielded to the force of disease.  For three hours and a half she lay quiet, occasionally slumbering, but breathing heavily.  It was thus I found her in the morning at half-past two.  She was quite conscious and recollected, and gave pleasing signs of recognition, but the power of speech was almost gone.  She had reached the middle of the stream, but her head was lifted up above the flowing waters, for her feet were upon the Rock.  Mary quoted “The Lord is good; a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knoweth them that trust in Him,” and shortly after,

  “Bright angels are from glory come,
  They’re round my bed, and in my room,
  They come to waft my spirit home: 
      All is well.”

She caught the idea; whispered “Bright Angels,” and tried to say more.  I added the precious words, “Having loved His own, He loved them to the end,” also the lines of our own sweet singer;—­