After this she had a little time of peace. The next morning, on being asked if the Lord had again given her comfort, "Yes," she said; "He has promised that, when through fiery trials He'll cause me to go, He will be with me." Darkness again took possession of her mind, and she was often saying, "Oh, to be a castaway!" She said she would like her uncle to come, which he did. On his approaching the bed, she said, "Oh, uncle, what will become of me if I am a deceiver? I shall be lost!" He took her hand, and said, "Jesus came to save the lost, so you see, dear, you are one. 'The whole need not a physician, but those who are sick.'" After a few words, he engaged in prayer. She then dozed, and was never again so harassed by the enemy of souls. On Friday morning she was much favoured with the Lord's presence, and longed to "depart and be with Christ," saying repeatedly, "Do, dear Lord Jesus, take me to-day! I do so want to go!" I said, "We must wait His time." "Yes," she replied-- "Till He bids, I cannot die; Not a single shaft can hit Till the God of love sees fit." Her throat and breathing at this time were very bad, and she asked the doctor when he came if he could relieve her at all. He said he was afraid he could not, but it would not be long. After he was gone she again said, "I do so hope the Lord will take me to-day. Do come, Lord Jesus; do come! Oh, how I long to go! What a glorious meeting it will be for me, if I am right!" Then clasping her dear hands together, she said, with such a sweet smile as nurse and I shall never forget, "Oh, blissful home! What a glorious meeting! I shall see Christ in all His beauty!" In the afternoon her breathing altered, and she seemed gently passing away. Looking up so sweetly, she said, "Am I dying, auntie?" I answered, "Yes, dear; it won't be long now. You want to go, don't you?" "Oh, yes," she replied. Her difficulty of breathing returned, and she suffered much through the night. In the morning she said, "You thought me dying yesterday, and the doctor too; but the dear Lord did not, did He? It was not His time." She continued very ill through the day--scarcely able to speak. Towards night she slightly rallied, and looking up at the clock, said, "Oh, the night!" She had often during her illness dreaded the nights. I said, "You know that beautiful hymn, dear--'Sun of my soul'?" She took it up, and said-- "Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near; Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise, To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes," after which she did not say any more about the night.