(Written within two months of her death)
To Mrs. H., The banks of Jordan, May 1860.
My beloved Amelia,
Many thanks for your note. The Lord bless you and reveal Himself to you, and
through you, more and more.
I rejoiced in Him, my best Friend, in the love of
espousals, and now prove that rejoicing was not in vain. What He is in the
banqueting-house, He is in the furnace--all we need. And the low chastened
praises of suffering times are dear to Him as the more gladsome songs
of bridal days. He was my theme then, my glory and joy—He is so
still. He was my companion then, when drinking of the spiced wine—He is so
now while receiving the vinegar. He has drank the bitter cup before me, and
is my brother born for adversity, and precious companion in tribulation. I
would glorify Him in the fires and praise Him to the last. You shall do it,
for You are my life, and You are my praise, O my Beloved!
You will take these imperfect lines in token of love in
Him which decays not with withering mortality. I am feeble and sore broken
in the flesh—but the spirit is untouched, "our life is hid with Christ in
God," and no disease or death can find it.
Farewell, in the undying love of our changeless Lord,
yours ever most affectionately,
"Which things perish in the using," is strongly stamped
on all below.