Canadian Wild Flowers | Page 9

to thee: 'Time was, but time no more
shall be'? Then seize upon the present hour; Improve it to thy utmost
power."
In the fall of 1856 Miss JOHNSON was prostrated by disease, and
nearly all the time afterwards confined to the house. So numerous and
complicated were her difficulties as to baffle the skill of all the
physicians who saw her, and no one knows the amount of suffering she
endured. Her mind however was active and vigorous, and though there
were seasons--sometimes quite protracted--when to her the heavens
above seemed as brass and the earth iron, yet God did not forsake her:

the sunshine succeeded the storm, and the peace that Jesus gives--was
poured into her wounded heart. Referring to her afflictions in 1858 and
the two following years she writes:--
"Those were days and nights of anguish, but I now look back to them
with feelings of regret, for my feet had only touched the dark waters
and my lips had only tasted the cup from which I was to drink the very
dregs. Early in the spring of 1858 I was seized with fever and acute
inflammation of the stomach, which brought me to the verge of the
grave. I could feel the warm tears of beloved ones upon my cheeks, as
they bent tenderly over me; I could see the dark vale just ahead (though
there was a light amid the darkness), but my sufferings were not to be
so soon terminated. Gradually my disease assumed a chronic form, and
physicians said there was no hope. The little nourishment I could take
distressed me so, terribly that the very thought of eating made me
shudder, and my stomach became so sore that I could not be moved
from one side of the bed to the other without uttering a cry of pain.
Winter, spring, summer and autumn in turn visited the earth, and with
each I thought, aye, longed to depart; but the great Refiner had his own
purpose to accomplish,--there was a little fine gold but the dross
rendered it useless. The ordeal through which I am passing is indeed a
terrible one, but I know where peace and consolation are to be found,
and there are times when I can say in sincerity, 'Thy will be done.'"
Thursday, Jan. 1,1863, she wrote:--
"Bright, beautiful day. Many people on the ice. Edwin [her brother]
there. Over our dwelling is a shadow; it falls upon our spirits and we
are sad. Will it never be removed? God grant we may be patient and
grateful for the blessings we do enjoy, for are not friends--true, tender
friends, the greatest and holiest of blessings? and while we have them
God forgive us for murmuring at his dealings."
The last entries in her diary are: "Feb. 2. Very sick"; "Tuesday, 3rd. No
better." It is uncertain when the following lines were written, but it
might have been about this time:--
"I'm going home to that bright land of rest Where pain and grief and
sickness are unknown; The year begins in sorrow, but will close In joys
that never end--I'm going home! Last year the warning came on sunken
eye And wasted cheek. I gazed and thought to spend My Christmas
with the angels. God knows best; And here I linger, weary sufferer still.

The morning comes long watched-for, long desired; The day drags on,
and then the sleepless night: But this will have an end--it must be
soon."
About six weeks before her death she was taken with nausea and
vomiting: everything she took distressed her, and for the last
twenty-three days she took no nourishment save what water contains.
Her prayer--
"Close to the Cross, close to the Cross. God grant I may be found When
death shall call my spirit hence, or the last trumpet sound,"--
was indeed answered. Her end was very peaceful and happy. For
several weeks not a cloud seemed to pass over her mind; and though
often in great distress there was no impatience manifested, nor did a
murmur escape her lips. She said, "It is nothing to die: 'the sting of
death is sin,' and when sin is taken away the sting is gone." On another
occasion she remarked: "I have often heard the words sung--
'Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are'--
and thought they were not strictly true; but now I know that they are
perfectly, perfectly so." Once as we stood by her bedside she observed
her mother and sister weeping, and with a countenance beaming with
joy (sufficient to remind us of 1 Pet. 1:8) she expressed surprise,
remarking: "It seems to me I am only crossing a narrow brook, and as I
look back I see you all coming--we shall soon meet."