and the suffering. As her strength would no longer allow her to go to
them, those who could do so came to her, and I was struck to see she
had ceased entirely from giving counsel, and now gave nothing but the
most beautiful, tender compassion and sympathy. I saw that she was
failing, but flattered myself that her own serenity and our care
would prolong her life still for many years. I longed to have my
children become old enough to fully appreciate her sanctified
character; and I thought she would gradually fade away and be set
free,

As light winds wandering through groves of bloom,
Detach the delicate blossoms from the tree.

But God's thoughts are not as our thoughts not His ways as our ways.
Her feeble body began to suffer from the rudest assaults of pain; day
and night, night and day, she lived through a martyrdom in which what
might have been a lifetime of suffering was concentrated into a few
months. To witness these sufferings was like the sundering of joints
and marrow, and once, only once, thank God! my faith in Him staggered
and reeled to and fro. "How can He look down on such agonies?" I
cried in my secret soul; "is this the work of a God of love, of
mercy?" Mother seemed to divine my thoughts, for she took my hand
tenderly in hers and said, with great difficulty:

"Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him. He is just as good as
ever." And she smiled. I ran away to Ernest, crying, "Oh, is there
nothing you can do for her?"

"What should a poor mortal do where Christ has done so much, my
darling?" he said, taking me in his arms. "Let us stand aside and see