l. From this, and other complications which supervened,
the doctor pronounced that I could not recover, and bade me prepare for
eternity.

Judges and doctors, when they pass sentence of death, seem to regard
religion as necessary preparation for it. Too common, also, is this
idea, even among those who do not belong to these respected professions.
My own opinion was much the same at that time.

Having received this solemn warning, I took down the Prayer-book, and
religiously read over the office for the Visitation of the Sick. I
became so interested in this exercise, that I determined to read it
three times a day. The prayer for a sick child especially commended
itself to my mind, so that, by changing a few words, I made it
applicable to my own case, and used it not only three, but even seven,
times a day. In substance, it petitioned that I might be taken to heaven
if I died; or that, if it should please God to restore my health, He
would let me live to His glory. I did not at that time expect my days
would be prolonged, nor had I any wish to live, for the world was now
perfectly blank and desolate to me. I felt as if I could never be happy
again; to be with God would be far better!

I little dreamed that if I had died in that unpardoned and Christless
state, I should have been lost forever; for I was profoundly ignorant of
the necessity of change of heart--perfectly unconscious that I must be
born again of the Spirit. This vital truth had never come to my mind; I
felt a love for God, and in my ignorance I wished to die.

One morning the thought came to me, as I was sitting all alone by the
fire, "What have I been praying for?--that the Lord would take me to
heaven if I died; or, if I lived, that He would let me live to His glory?"
Why, this is heaven both ways!--heaven in heaven, or heaven on
earth--whichever way it pleases God to answer my prayer. Somehow I felt
certain that He would answer it. I was exceedingly happy, and could not
help thanking Him. From that day I began to feel better, and became
impressed with the idea that I was to live, and not die. The doctor
smiled at me when I told him so, for he did not believe it. He, and two
other physicians, had told me that my lungs were diseased; indeed, six
months afterwards, all three sounded me, and declared that one lung was
inoperative, and the other much affected.

Yet, notwithstanding the doctor's discouraging announcement--for he told
me, also, that "it was