To illustrate this, I have mentioned several of the incidents already
related.

She spoke of a young friend, who has much that the world gives its
votaries to enhance her prospects in this life. I said, "Would you
exchange conditions with her?" "Not for ten thousand worlds," was her
energetic reply. "No!" she added; "I fear she has not chosen the good
part."

Sabbath afternoon, the mortal conflict was upon her. The restlessness of
death, the craving for some change of posture, the cold sweats, the
labored respiration, all had the effect merely to make her ask, "How
long do you think I must suffer?" That labored breathing tired her; she
wished that I could regulate it for her. "How long," said she, "will it
probably continue?"

I told her that heaven was a free gift at the last as well as at first;
that we could not pass within the gate at will, but must wait God's
time; that there were sufferings yet necessary to her complete
preparation for heaven, of which she would see the use hereafter, but
not now. This made her wholly quiet; and after that she rode at anchor
many hours, hard by the inner lighthouse, waiting for the Pilot.

The last words which she uttered to me, an hour before she died, were,
"I am going to get my crown." I wondered at her in my thoughts, (O, help
my unbelief!) to hear a dying sinner so confident. I said to myself, "O
woman, great is thy faith." She knew that her crown was a free gift,
purchased at infinite expense; a crown, instead of deserved chains,
under darkness. All unmerited, and more than forfeited, yet she spoke of
her crown, because she believed with a simple faith, taking Christ at