Chapter IV: The Last Hours

I often feel impatient,
And mourn the long delay,
I never can be settled
While he remains away.
But we shall not long be parted,
For I know he'll quickly come,
And we shall dwell together
In that happy, happy home.

We were about to say farewell to the loved brother whose end was rapidly approaching. His going from this life to that beyond the grave was one of the most remarkable for faith and hope, quietly exhibiting the spirit of Him who went about continually doing good.

There was no attempt to argue with death, and ask for a respite to prepare for the journey through the valley of the shadow of death to the golden shore beyond. We cannot do better here than lay before the reader the following communication written by their son to their former pastor, the Rev. George O. Phelps, of Utica, N.Y. It is a brief narrative of their last hours on earth, which were a triumphant ending to a long life of devotion to their Master:

NEW YORK CITY, November 15, 1886.

Your kind letter was duly received and contents noted. At your
request, I will endeavor to give you a brief account of the
"goings" of my departed parents. In a spirit of humility I desire
to avoid all expressions of fulsomeness when speaking of their
lives and last moments, though it might be said that those who were
at the death-bed of either, and saw them in their last hours, would
have been willing to have left all to exchange places with them. I
would say, in the words of one of old, "Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my end be like theirs." As they lived so they
died! As father lay down, so he never moved until he was carried
into the arms of Jesus.

All through his two days' sickness, as we put our ears to his lips,
we could hear him earnestly praying for Allen Street Church, her
minister and people, and for his family. Our mother would
frequently speak to him, saying:

"Just one word, papa!"

But he would only shake his head, without uttering a word.

The history of his going was as follows:

On Tuesday, October 19th, father left the office for the last time.
When Wednesday morning, October 20th, dawned, he complained of a
pain in his side, remarking that he "did not think he would go to
the office before noon." He did not go at all.

I went to the house in the evening, to find that the doctor had been
called _twice_, and that father had pleurisy. We passed through the
night watching and hoping for favorable changes; but, unfortunately,
the next (Thursday) morning, October 21st, pneumonia set in, and the
case became complicated. Already very weak, he grew more feeble
every hour. He had done his part of this life's work, and seemed
conscious that the Universal Master was about to finish the mansion
into which his servant was fully prepared to enter. A peaceful,
quiet Christian in the home circle; a zealous worker in the Church;
watchful in his business relations with the world, he looked the
very embodiment of peaceful repose in his last moments, and on his
earthly bed of sleeping rest--so life-like, too, that I dare not say
bed of death--as he breathed his last at 2.10 A.M., Saturday,
October 23d.

The expressions and sentiments of many who visited the house during
his sickness, and while lying in the casket (Roman Catholics,
believers, and unbelievers) were all in harmony with the idea that
"if ever a human being entered heaven, he had gone straight to that
realm of blissful repose."

But to go back just prior to his demise, when the doctor quietly
told us he could not live another day. We tried hard to be resigned
on that Friday night, feeling sure that the end was near. After the
meeting at the Church was dismissed, the minister came to the house
and remained with us until after midnight, obtaining from father
the words and signs that are precious as he passed away; the last
audible words to me being: "William, God bless you and your
family!"

In the history of _my_ mother's demise, I will briefly state that,
on Saturday night, October 23d, while father lay asleep in Jesus,
she went to the store, as was her life-long custom, with some
tracts, and to purchase a few things. On her return after coming
up-stairs she threw herself down upon the sofa with the words, "No
papa to come and carry up the basket for me to-night!" and there she
sat in deep affliction, as if her heart would break.

On Sabbath night, October 24th, when quite a number of people were
in the house, she very earnestly exhorted them in Christ Jesus,
allowing no one to pass unobserved. In turning to one young wife, I
heard her kindly urge, "Always be cheerful and happy; don't
discourage your husband by always complaining. He will also get
discouraged. That is what ruins many a happy home." Singular to
note, my mother had scarcely got through, when she, too, complained
of a pain in her side, remarking, "It is papa's pain."

On Monday morning she arose to eventually lie upon the sofa in an
unconscious state. The funeral services over father's remains were
to be observed in the Allen Street Presbyterian Church at 1 P.M.:
therefore the doctor came in to arouse her, and gave her a
stimulant, so that she went to the church with us, returning home
instead of going to the grounds, after the services; and here I may
say her pastor preached a very solemn sermon, exactly in harmony
with the tenor of father's private and public life.

One thing happened (when the relatives were invited to step forward
and see the remains for the last time) that was singular, viz.: As
my mother bent over to take a last look at the life-long partner of
her joys and sorrows, her veil became attached to the handle of the
casket, which my sister was compelled to stoop and unloosen.
Without being superstitious, this looked like the dead reaching
forth to the living.

At all events, on Tuesday, October 26th, mother was confined to her
bed, and, as she had said, she had "papa's pain"--pleurisy. The
next day, Wednesday, October 27th, pneumonia followed, when it
required three persons to care for her in the day, and three to
attend her through the night, with no change for the better.

On Thursday there was no favorable sign to note--suspense was still
in the balancing beam. Toward Friday night, October 29th, all hope
having vanished, my mother was quietly informed that "her day was
short!" To which she responded: "My day is short. I must finish my
work!"

"Then occurred a repetition of the previous call upon the Allen
Street Church, a second Friday in succession. In response, the
minister, elder, and' several young men came promptly to the house
to hear the testimony of a sainted mother in Israel going to rest.
After supplication in prayer and a hymn of praise, the minister
asked mother:

"Have you any word for me, sister?"

Turning over and taking his hand, she said:

"No! you know these things yourself. Preach the gospel uncolored!"

To a Roman Catholic she remarked:

"There are no forms about my religion!"

To her daughter-in-law, my wife, she remarked:

"You have a mother!"

To the young men present she lovingly urged:

"Avoid bad company; learn of Christ; seek to be like Him, little by
little."

To Mrs. ----, who is a visitor, she firmly said:

"You are well liked, and can do a great deal of good; but pray with
the people you visit!"

Then at times she would exclaim:

"Oh, I have so much to do; but I am so weak!"

When Esther, my sister, soothingly said:

"Mother, please do not talk so much, it weakens you;" she responded
with:

"The doctor says my day is short!"

Later on, requesting my wife to remove her stockings, she remarked,
"I have got to the edge of the river!" Finally: "Once I was young;
now I am old, and have _never_ been forsaken!" were the last words
of testimony she left those present to bear witness to as she fell
asleep in the Lord.

What a blessed "going" for a life-long, zealous Christian who was
left an orphan when only eight years of age (as seen and recorded
in another chapter), with a rich uncle who would have done anything
for her if she had only married as he desired. What an
encouragement it holds forth to the living to trust everything to
God, and simply follow as He may direct.

Death had no sting or terror for her. She spoke calmly of the last
rites to be observed over her remains, saying she would like to be
buried like "Papa" (father), and asked my wife if the services
would be held over her at the house, or in the church. When
informed that the service would be held in the church, she
smilingly said, "Very well," and cheerfully resigned herself from
earth to heaven.

Her last exhortation to myself was: "Be faithful, humble, meek, and
constantly keep at the Master's feet until He calls you up higher.
Be kind, gentle, and patiently forbearing with your sister." In her
discourse with my sister she was very anxious and urgent that her
daughter would ultimately meet her parents in heaven, for which we
pray. Her faith was great; she had no fear or thought for self; her
great concern was for the heavenly welfare of those around her. She
spoke and acted as if her seat or place in the realm of bliss had
been long secured to her--in that great faith she died, but not
before, in her parting words, she had instructed me, "To gather up
the books and tracts; to see that they were properly distributed,
and that not one sheet be lost, so that the work would go on after
she was gone."

This second source of anxiety having been allayed, she rapturously
extended her hands to meet the angels, and raising herself up in
bed, turned her head and raised her eyes as if to gaze upon the
celestial messengers sent to bear her home, before she said to us:
"Be faithful till the Master calls!" then grasping the hands
reached out to hers, she was gone--gone from a finite life into
heavenly rest!

One or two other items I must note. In looking over my father's
papers, I find that he kept a private diary (which forms a part of
the contents of this work) of the texts and sermons he heard on the
Sabbath, from the year 1858, to the Sabbath before he died, and
much significance is given to one he heard you preach from the Book
of Jude, 23d verse: "Hating even a garment spotted by the flesh." I
feel confident that he grew in grace under the Word of Life
conveyed to him by you, and assisted by a close study of his own
Bible. In his usual course of reading the Scriptures, he read on
the day he was taken sick the 20th Psalm, though not permitted
again to drink from the same fountain of Eternal Life, for he was
going, unconsciously, to realize the efficacy of the 21st Psalm--a
favorite with him--and to receive the crown of gold and life
everlasting.

The general remarks of the outside world at the time fostered great
interest in the fact of such peaceful "goings" from earth to heaven
of two such worthy Christians, at dates so close to each other.

Neither of them feared death. Both had lived and worked in harmony
for the same great end.

Both to be ultimately called up higher in one week and two hours of
each other.

WILLIAM KNOWLES.

I desire to supplement the foregoing account of the "Last Hours," by stating that when we reached the house of sickness and death, we found her son reading that precious portion of God's Word, the 14th chapter of St. John's Gospel, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my father's house are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you," etc. The scene was deeply affecting. Loved ones were gathered around the bedside.

After reading the Scriptures, and prayer, we united in singing that well known hymn,

Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high,
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life be past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last!

The dying missionary endeavored to join in the singing though extremely faint, and life's latest sun was sinking fast, for the hour of her departure had come, and she heard the voice that called her home, and at last she peacefully entered into that rest that remains for the people of God.

Three thousand copies of the "Last Hours" were printed in pamphlet form and widely scattered over different parts of the country. And the Lord has been graciously pleased to bless their circulation to the spiritual edification of those who had the privilege of reading them.

It was a singular coincidence that the last chapter read by the Elder was the same as the one selected by the minister as the Lesson of the Day, on the occasion of the celebration of the Jubilee exercises in honor of the noble and beloved Queen Victoria, in Westminster Abbey.