A short time after the attack, she expressed a wish to die; and upon being asked why, she answered, "Because I believe I shall go to heaven. I believe the dear Lord has pardoned my sins." She would often say, "Pray for me, my dear mother, and I will pray for you, and myself too"; and would then address herself to God in a sweet, devout manner. Observing me to be in great trouble, she thus spoke to me--"Do pray the dear Lord to take me to Himself." I answered, "How can I do so, seeing I cannot give you up?" She replied, "Oh, mother, put your trust in the Lord. He will provide. Do ask Him to take me out of this world. Oh, mother, there is nothing here worth living for"; and engaging sweetly in prayer, uttered, with many other sentences, the following--"Pardon all our sins, dear and precious Lord--past sins, present sins, and sins to come. Wash us in Thy precious blood, for Thou knowest how sinful we are, and Thou rememberest we are but dust. Oh, make us love Thee more! Thy love is an everlasting love. Take us, dear Lord, take us to Thyself, and then we shall love and serve Thee better." The second Lord's Day of her affliction, she inquired what day it was. I informed her, and asked, "Would you not like to spend a Sabbath in heaven?" "Oh, yes, mother!" was the rejoinder. "That would be a Sabbath of Sabbaths." With pleasure I remember some particular times when my precious child seemed almost overpowered by the sweetness and glories of Immanuel, who is "God with us," not only in our nature, but in our condition. At these times, with uplifted hands, she would exclaim, "Oh, my precious Jesus! Oh, my precious Christ!" One day she said, "Mother, my pains are very great. Can you do anything to give me relief?" What an appeal to maternal tenderness! What a moment of agonizing weakness! I reminded her of the divine sufficiency, and she poured out a copious argumentative prayer, not like the prayer of a child, pleading the Lord's own Word, and the merits of Christ, as the only ground of her expectation. "I know," she would say, "I am not worthy. I am a guilty sinner. Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood! Give me patience to endure my pains, and to wait all Thy will; and take me to be where Thou art, for ever and ever. Amen." Seeing me weep very much, on one occasion, she exclaimed, "My precious mother, I do love you! Why do you grieve about me? I am not afraid to die. I want to go to my precious Lord, and be with Him for ever." I said, "My dear child, why do you believe you shall go to heaven? Do you think you have _merited_ it?" "Oh, no, mother," was her immediate reply. "I am a guilty sinner. It is through the Lord Jesus, and for His sake, that I hope to be saved. Do you not think, dear mother, He will pardon me?" I said, "Yes, if you feel your need of Him." She answered, "I believe He has pardoned me."