“Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. ” HERE comes Whitefield, the man that stood before twenty thousand at a time to preach the gospel, who in England, Scotland, Ireland, and America, has testified the truth of God, and who could count his converts by thousands, even under one sermon! Here he comes, the man that endured persecution and scorn, and yet was not moved — the man of whom the world was not worthy, who lived for his fellow-men, and died at last for their cause: stand by, angels, and admire, whilst the Master takes him by the hand and says, “Well done, well done, thou good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” See how free grace honors the man whom it enabled to do valiantly!

Hark! Who is this that comes there? a poor, thin-looking creature, that on earth was a consumptive; there was a hectic flush now and then upon her check, and she lay three long years upon her bed of sickness. Was she a prince’s daughter, for it seems heaven is making much stir about her? No, she was a poor girl, that earned her living by her needle, and she worked herself to death! — Stitch, stitch, stitch, from morning to night! and here she comes. She went prematurely to her grave, but she is coming, like a shock of corn fully ripe, into heaven, and her Master says, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful in a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” She takes her place by the side of Whitefield. Ask what she ever did, and you find out that she used to live in some back garret, down some dark alley in London; and there used to be another poor girl come to work with her, and that poor girl when she first came to work with her, was a gay and volatile creature, and this consumptive child told her about Christ; and they used, when she was well enough, to creep out of an evening to go to chapel or to church together. It was hard at first to get the other one to go, but she used to press her lovingly; and when the girl went wild a little, she never gave her up. She used to say, “O Jane, I wish you loved the Savior;” and when Jane was not there she used to pray for her, and when she was there she, prayed with her; and now and then when she was stitching away, read a page out of the Bible to her, for poor Jane could not read. And with many tears she tried to tell her about the Savior, who loved her and gave himself for her.

At last, after many a day of hard persuasion, and many an hour of sad disappointment, and many a night of sleepless, tearful prayer, she lived to see the girl profess her love to Christ; and she left her and took sick, and there she lay till she was taken to the hospital, where she died. When she was in the hospital she used to have a few tracts, and she used to give them to those who came to see her; she would try, if she could, to get the women to come round, and she would give them a tract. When she first went into the hospital, if she could creep out of bed, she used to get by the side of one who was dying, and the nurse used to let her do it; till at last she got too ill, and then she used to ask a poor woman on the other side of the ward, who was getting better, and was going out, if she would come and read a chapter to her; not that she wanted her to read to her on her own account, but for her sake, for she thought it might strike her heart while she was reading it. At last this poor girl died, and fell asleep in Jesus; and the poor consumptive needle-woman had said to her, “Well done” — and what more could an archangel have said to her?—” she hath done what she could.”