Strange to say, on Good Friday, though she was so delirious that there was difficulty in keeping her in bed, and she did not know what day it was, Christ on the Cross was her theme all the day long. “Christ died on the Cross for me, and I want to go and die for Him.” She had indeed lived for Him. Then on Easter Day she said to Miss Blower: “I am happy, so happy: we are both happy, so very happy.” She said she was going to hear the eighth Psalm. Shall we remember Martha’s favourite psalm? She spoke often about St. Thomas’. She died the day after Easter Day. The change came at 7 in the evening, and she lived till 5 o’clock the next morning, conscious to the last, repeating sentences, and answering by looks when she could speak no more. Her Saviour, whom she had so loved and followed in her life, was with her thro’ the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and she felt Him there. She was happy. “My best love,” she said, “tell them it is all for the best, and I am not sorry I came out.” Her parents have given her up nobly, though with bleeding hearts, with true submission to our Father’s will: they _are_ satisfied it is “all for the best.” All the Montreal Hospital shared our sorrow. The Doctors were full of kindness in their medical attendance. Mr. Redpath, who is a principal Director, and Mrs. Redpath were like a real father and mother to our people. Martha’s death-bed and coffin were strewed with flowers. Public and private prayers were offered up for her at Montreal during her illness. Who can say that they were not answered? She spoke of dying: but without fear. We prayed that God would spare the child to us: but He had need of her. Our Father arranged her going out: for she went, if ever woman did, with a single eye to please Him and do her duty to the work and her Superintendent. “Is it well with the child?” “It is well.” Let us who feel her loss so deeply in the work not grudge her to God. As one of you yourselves said: “She died like a good soldier of Jesus Christ, well to the front.” Would any one of us wish it otherwise for her? Would any one of us wish a better lot for herself? There is but one feeling among us all about her: that she lived as a noble Christian girl, and that she has been permitted to die nobly: in the post of honour, as a soldier thinks it glorious to die. In the midst of our work, so surely do we Nurses think it glorious to die. But to be like her we must have a mind like hers: “enduring, patient, firm, and meek.” I know that she sought of God the mind of Jesus Christ, “active, like His; like His, resigned”; copying His pattern: ready to “endure hardness.” We give her joy; it is our loss, not hers. She is gone to our Lord and her Lord, made ripe so soon for her and our Father’s house. Our tears are her joy. She is in another room of our Father’s house. She bids us now give thanks for her. Think of that Easter morn when she rose again! She had indeed “another morn than ours”--that 17th of April.