“Esther, child,” said Phillis, “don’t do so.  There’s nothing but glory and peace.  There’s no occasion for tears.  God will take care of you all here, and will, I hope and pray, bring you to heaven at last.  Poor master!  To think he is so distressed parting with me.  I thought I should have stood by his dying bed.  The Lord knows best.”

“Mother,” said Esther, “will you take this medicine—­it is time?”

“No, honey.  No more medicine; it won’t do me no good.  I don’t want medicine.  Jesus is what I want.  He is all in all.”

* * * * *

Reader! have you ever stood by the dying bed of a slave?  It may be not.  There are those who are often there.  The angels of God, and One who is above the angels.  One who died for all.  He is here now.  Here, where stand weeping friends—­here, where all is silence.  You may almost hear the angel’s wings as they wait to bear the redeemed spirit to its heavenly abode.  Here, where the form is almost senseless, the soul fluttering between earth and heaven.  Here, where the Spirit of God is over-shadowing the scene.

“Master,” said Phillis, “all is peace.  Jesus is here.  I am going home.  You will soon be there, and Miss Janet can’t be long.  Miss Anna too.  Bacchus, the good Lord will bring you there.  I trust in Him to save you.  My children, God bless them, little Lydia and all.”

“Master Arthur,” said she, as Arthur bent over her, “give my love to Master Walter.  You and Miss Alice will soon be married.  The Lord make you happy.  God bless you, Miss Ellen, and make you his child.  Keep close, children to Jesus.  Seems as if we wasn’t safe when we can’t see him.  I see him now; he is beckoning me to come.  Blessed Jesus! take me—­take me home.”

Kind master, weep not.  She will bear, even at the throne of God, witness to thy faithfulness.  Through thee she learned the way to heaven, and it may be soon she will stand by thee again, though thou see her not.  She may be one of those who will guide thee to the Celestial City; to the company of the redeemed, where will be joy forever.  Weep not, but see in what peace a Christian can die.  Watch the last gleams of thought which stream from her dying eyes.  Do you see any thing like apprehension?  The world, it is true, begins to shut in.  The shadows of evening collect around her senses.  A dark mist thickens, and rests upon the objects which have hitherto engaged her observation.  The countenances of her friends become more and more indistinct.  The sweet expressions of love and friendship are no longer intelligible.  Her ear wakes no more at the well-known voice of her children, and the soothing accents of tender affection die away unheard upon her decaying senses.  To her the spectacle of human life is drawing to its close, and the curtain is descending which shuts out this earth, its actors, and its scenes.  She is no longer interested in all that is done under the sun.  Oh! that I could now open to you the recesses of her soul, that I could reveal to you the light which darts into the chambers of her understanding.  She approaches that world which she has so long seen in faith.  The imagination now collects its diminished strength, and the eye of faith opens wide.