After my husband died, one of our brethren, who thought a great deal of him, said, “Do not let them bury him, but pray to the Lord, that He may bring him to life again.” I said, “No, no, although I realize my great loss, I will not do this.” I felt that he had done his work. No one but myself knew how great a load he had carried in the efforts we had put forth to advance the truth. He had done the work of three men. Night after night, at the beginning of our work, when advancement seemed to be hindered on every hand, he would say, “Ellen we must pray. We must not let go until we realize the power of God.” He would lie awake for hours, and say, “Oh Ellen, I am so afflicted. Will you pray for me, that I may not fail or be discouraged.” Together we offered up our prayers, with strong crying and tears, until from his lips came the words, “Thank the Lord; He has spoken peace to me. I have light in the Lord. I will not fail. I will press the battle to the gates.” Would I have him suffer all this over again? No, no. I would in no case call him from his restful sleep to a life of toil and pain. He will rest until the morning of the resurrection. 7MR 419.1
My husband died in 1881. During the time that has passed since then, I have missed him constantly. For one year after his death, I felt my loss keenly, until the Lord, when I was at the gates of death, healed me instantly. This was at a campmeeting held at Healdsburg, about a year after my husband's death. Since that time, I have been willing to live, or willing to die, just as the Lord sees I can best glorify Him.—Letter 396, 1906, pp. 1, 2. (To Sister Belden, December 26, 1906.) 7MR 419.2