Her heart overflowed with love to all around her, saying, "All is love;" and many were the messages she sent to her absent relatives and friends. "Give my dear love to father and mother: tell them how glad I should have been to have seen them; but how glad I am mother was not here! I know she could not have borne it. Tell them how thankful I am they brought me up for heaven. Tell them, not raptures, but peace. Tell them not to grieve, not to grieve, not to grieve! Tell them how happy I have been here; that I wanted for nothing." To her sisters, "All love--nothing but love;" adding that she might have had much more to say, had she been able, "but I must not; I must be quiet." As the different members of her husband's family surrounded her bed, she addressed each with a few appropriate words. Taking her mother S.'s hand, she said, "Thou hast been a kind mother to me: I can never repay thee. * * *" To her father S., who was absent, she sent her love. He, however, returned in time to see her. From his having left her so much better on Seventh-day, she feared he might be alarmed at the change, anxiously inquiring whether he was aware of it, and affectionately greeted him when he came, saying, "I am _so glad_ to see thee!" To one she said, "Dear ----, seek the Lord; seek Him and serve Him with a perfect heart. 'Why should we fear youth's draught of joy.'[3] Tell her that verse from me. * * * " She inquired for J.H.; and, on his coming into the room, being rather overcome with her exertions, she said, "I am too weak to speak now;" but, waving her hand, she pointed her finger towards heaven with an almost angelic smile. After a short pause, she renewed her leave-taking, adding, at its close, "Farewell--my best farewell! now I have nothing more to say. Farewell!" And a little after, turning to her sister, "Now, my dear R., there seems nothing to say--nothing but love--all love!" She then asked for a few minutes alone with her dear husband, and took a calm and tender leave of him also. Difficulty of breathing now became very trying to her; but again and again she tried to cheer us by the assurance that she had no pain--"only oppression: don't think it pain." The lines being repeated "Though painful at present, 'Twill cease before long; And then, oh, how pleasant The conqueror's song!" she responded with a sweet smile, and exclaimed, "Oh, glorious!" She dwelt with comfort on the text, "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth," and once, commencing to repeat it herself, asked her sister to finish it.