by which she hoped to make it clear that God had dealt kindly with her. "My dear Mrs. Willmott" she said, "is not God training us for eternity? He says he is unwilling that any should perish-we are disobedient to him. By nature we do not love him-therefore he corrects us-he chastises us to make us better, just as you correct your children when they disobey you. The reason that he disappoints us and takes away the objects which we love is to lead us not to love this world so much, but heaven more." The poor disconsolate woman had never thought of this before and she appeared in deep reflection. "Can it be,” she inquired half unconsciously, "that God loves me?" Emma was encouraged and improved the advantage she had gained. "Yes" said she "God does love you, else he would not have sent his Son into the world to die for us. When he afflicts us, it is not because he delights in chastisement, but because affliction is necessary to fit us for heaven. Should we ever desire to go to heaven if we had everything in this world to make us happy?" "I see it now" said Mrs. Willmott, "how could I shut my eyes to the truth so long. What shall I do to secure such a rich prize? How shall I become a true disciple of Christ ?" "You can obtain this blessing without money and without price" said her juvenile teacher. "Whosoever will, may come and take of the water of life freely." The Savior says, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me and ye shall find rest unto your souls." She dwelt upon the love of the Redeemer and pointed this poor woman to his cross. She then knelt with her, commended her to the Friend of sinners and took her leave. Last summer I visited Mrs. Willmott. Her sands were almost run. Many years had passed since that eventful interview with Emma, but it was almost as fresh in her memory as on the day it transpired. Emma had gone to her rest. She died when about eighteen years of age rejoicing in hope of a blissful immortality. I had not before heard of her death, and when I learned that her sun had so early gone down, I could not suppress the thought which Wordsworth has clothed in such forcible language The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, Burn to the socket The old lady drew from her bosom a little book soiled and time-worn and placing it in my hands she most precious earthly treasure I possess. tament, Emma read to me the words of life. said, “this is the From this TesThe day before she died, she gave it to me with her blessing and expressed the hope that it would prove as valuable a companion to me as it had been to her." Having led me to the window she pointed to the churchyard, a few rods distant and said, "Beneath that mound so green, with the willow by its side, repose the ashes of that dear girl. I planted the violet and the forget-me-not on that grave, and often have I bedewed them with my tears. She is now we trust, an angel near the throne of God. How much am I indebted to her instructions, counsels and prayers who taught me the way to Christ and Heaven." "On that day when she came to me with her little testament I trust I found peace and joy in a crucified Savior. Though I have since been a vile sinner I hope my sins have been washed in his blood. I have since looked upon disappointments in a new light. They now seem the richest of blessings. God has taken from me almost every thing which I loved, but what a precious boon have I in exchange! He has given me a Savior who is "chiefest among ten thousand and the one altogether lovely." Blessed Savior! Soon shall I see him face to face, and that dear child who first led me to his cross." "Home of the weary! where in peace reposing Who would not early choose a lot like this?" |