This was the only cloudy season she had on her death-bed. Her Lord having released her from these bonds, she, to the end, went on her way, not only rejoicing in spirit, but with an ever-increasing desire to depart. On one rapturous occasion, I asked her if it added much to her delight the prospect of soon enjoying the happy company of our dear ones who had left us. She replied, with much weight, “Well, I’ll be trying to think of that myself, and it affords me unspeakable comfort and joy to believe that they are before me in heaven; but, whatever I think of, my mind is ever on Himself. Oh, who could think of or look to any other? Is He not altogether lovely? I love Thee, O sweet Jesus! Come, come, why tarry the wheels of Thy chariot?” I asked her (for, although naturally like Mary, she was more of a pondering heart, yet during these days she was very communicative, and liked to be asked as to her state and frame), if she was sure that she loved Him? With an earnest look and voice she said—”I am as sure of that—yea, He has made me sure of it—as that I say it; yea; surer,” and laying her feeble hand upon her breast, “for He has written it here, and I can tell you the time and place when He manifested His love to me, and caused me to love Him with an everlasting love, and that was the evening on which I heard Mr North in Inverness. His text was ‘Wilt thou go with this man’ (Gen. xxiv. 58). I thought, as he was in the course of his sermon opening up the lovely character of the man Jesus, and showing forth His matchless love to fallen sinners, that my heart was correspondingly opening; but when in the application he called out as with the voice of God, ‘Here! here! the Lord of Heaven—the wonder of angels—the delight of saints—and the desire of nations, is now offering Himself freely to you as your all in all for time and eternity. Oh! will you take Him—take Him? This may be the last offer you shall have of Him—will you let Him go? O! don’t—I thought my soul was one flame of love to Him—I could not—I would not—I did not let Him go. I know those who were about me were noticing my state, but I could not contain myself. I was overcome with love, love that constrained me to love Him, and since then till now, and, I believe, to all eternity, I can think of none but Himself. Oh, His love is written deep here,” laying her palm upon her breast, “and as a token of His love to me He will soon grant me my desire, and that is, ‘that where He is, there I may be also.'”
Often, often, during her few remaining days did she revert to that happy season, the day of her espousals, and the day of the gladness of her heart, the wonder if there could be so much as one soul there that could let such a glorious offer pass. The last time she was out with me, the 24th of April, that sermon was the subject of her conversation going to and coming from church. For the good Mr North she cherished ever afterwards the most Christian affection. She never saw nor heard him more. Hearing on Friday before her death that he was in Nairn, she said, “I wonder if he can be forward soon.” On my giving it as my opinion that it was likely he could not until the second Sabbath following, she, with her usual sweet smile, said, “I will then be in glory; but never mind, I shall soon see him there. Yet, if you see him, tell him of my case, to encourage him to spend and to be spent in declaring to all the overcoming love of Jesus.” And in a while she said, “Oh that my voice could be heard from pole to pole, that I might tell all of how ravishing His love is! and I cannot see how any could but love Him.”
She being now, as already stated, so very communicative, I asked her shortly after that as to the state of her mind before she heard Mr North. She said that for years back she was fully persuaded that salvation was attainable only by real union with Christ by faith; and that, especially since her mother’s death, which happened eleven months before her own, she made it her earnest endeavour to lay hold upon Him, but could never be satisfied that she was enabled to do so until that time, adding in a little, “I know I believe now; I would as soon doubt my being.”