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Never before had it fallen to my lot to bear that message to one who was sick, “The Master is come, and calleth for thee.”  In previous cases of deep, personal interest, this has been unnecessary.  But in the present case there was a resolute purpose, and an expectation, of recovery, till within a week of dissolution, and, on our part, a belief that life might still be lengthened.  Such cases involve nice questions of duty.  Where the patient has evidently made timely preparation to die, it is needless to dispel that half illusion which seems to be one feature of consumption—­an illusion which is so thin that we feel persuaded the patient sees through it, while, nevertheless, it serves all the purposes of hope.  To take away that hope where no beneficial end is to be secured, is cruel.  A mistaken, and somewhat morbid, sense of duty to tell the whole truth, and a conscientious but unenlightened fear of practising deception, sometimes lead friends to remove, from a sick person, that power which hope gives in sustaining the sickness, in prolonging comfort, and in helping the gradual descent into the grave.  When a sick person is resolute and hopeful, it is surprising to see how many annoyances of sickness are prevented or easily borne, and how life, and even cheerfulness, may be indefinitely extended.  But when hope is taken away, or, rather, when, instead of looking towards life with that instinctive love of it which God has implanted, we turn from “the warm precincts of the cheerful day,” and look into the grave, it is affecting to see how the disease takes advantage of it, and sufferings ensue which would have been prevented by keeping up even the ambiguous thoughts of recovery.  Sick people have reflections and feelings which exert an influence upon them beyond our discernment, and which frequently need not our literal interpretations of symptoms, and our exhortations, to make them more effectual.  But where there is evidently no preparedness for death, and the patient, we fear, is deceiving himself, no one who has suitable views of Christian duty will fail to impress him with the necessity of attending to the things which belong to his peace, even at considerable risk of abridging life.

Waiting, therefore, for medical discernment to signify when the last possible effort to lengthen out the days of the sufferer had been made, one morning I received the intimation that those days would, in all probability, be but very few.  After the physician had left the house, and I had sought help and strength from God, I lost no time, but took my place at the dear patient’s side, to make the announcement.

God help those on whom he lays such duty.  The hour had virtually come in which father and child must part, and the father was to break that message to his child.  But how could mortal strength endure the effort?