"The hour of my departure's come,
I hear the voice that calls me home;
At last, O Lord! let trouble cease,
And let thy servant die in peace."
They carried her fainting to her little bed, and uttered not a word to
one another till she revived. The shock was sudden, but not unexpected,
and they knew now that the hand of death was upon her, although her eyes
soon became brighter and brighter, they thought, than they had ever been
before. But forehead, cheeks, lips, neck, and breast, were, all as
white, and, to the quivering hands that touched them, almost as cold, as
snow. Ineffable was the bliss in those radiant eyes; but the breath of
words was frozen, and that hymn was almost her last farewell. Some few
words she spake, and named the hour and day she wished to be buried.
Her lips could then just faintly return the kiss, and no more--a film
came over the now dim blue of her eyes--the father listened for her
breath--and then the mother took his place, and leaned her ear to the
unbreathing mouth, long deluding herself with its lifelike smile; but
a sudden darkness in the room, and a sudden stillness--most dreadful
both--convinced their unbelieving hearts at last--that it was death!
All the parish, it may be said, attended her funeral--for none staid
away from the kirk that Sabbath--though many a voice was unable to join
in the psalm.
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