Lucretia Cranson was the daughter of old friends of the Whites. She married D. M. Canright in 1867. She died on March 29, 1879. DG 217.1
Dear Afflicted Sister,
I would much prefer to be with you and converse with you, but this is impossible. I might say to you I sympathize with you in your feebleness, but when I think of you it seems ever sure to me and vivid before me that you are sustained by arms that never tire, and comforted with a love that is unchangeable, enduring as the throne of God. DG 217.2
I do not look upon you as repining in your feebleness, but as one upon whom the countenance of the Lord shineth, giving light and peace, whose soul is in fellowship with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ, growing daily in the knowledge of the divine will, partaking of the divine nature, increasing in reverence, childlike holy trust, and confiding love. Never did the appreciation of Christ's blood, which pardons, seem to you so precious, so priceless as in your feebleness, when your hold is loosening upon the world. DG 217.3
You have been growing in inward experience, and others may profit by your counsel and your advice. Religion to you, my precious child, has become more and more beauteous. You now find so much comfort sitting at the feet of Christ and learning of Him. The fear of death is past. If there is any terror in the look of the last dread enemy, it is driven away by looking unto Jesus, for He has brightened the tomb by His sacred presence. There is that in your heart which will not rest unless enfolded in the arms of infinite love. DG 217.4
Dear child, your pilgrimage is nearly ended. We will not set up our wishes and our wills, but we will let you rest in hope till the Lifegiver shall call you forth from your prison house to a bright immortality. Jesus is just the Saviour for you now, the One whose bright presence will make, in any place, your heaven. Your life, my precious child, is hid with Christ in God, and when He who is your life shall appear, then will you also appear with Him, clothed with immortality and eternal life. Do you behold His glory in your failing strength, full of grace, mercy, and peace? And do you turn to Him like the needle to the magnet? DG 218.1
Your days may not all be clear and joyful, but let not this afflict you. In meekness, faith, and endurance, wait, hope, and trust. Your life is hidden with Christ in God. Your life, even now, may be a lesson to all, showing that one can be happy in the failing of strength under affliction. When the deep waters go over the soul, God's presence makes holy the chamber of His dying saints. Their patient endurance and joyful constancy, their support by an unseen power, is a powerful testimony in favor of the Christian's religion and the Christian's Saviour. These light afflictions will be a transforming power, refining, purifying, ennobling, and fitting for the courts above. DG 218.2
Oh, the Christian's last days may be fragrant because the beams of the Sun of righteousness shine through the life, diffusing a perpetual fragrance. Oh, what reason have we for joy that our Redeemer poured out His precious blood on the cross as an atonement for sin, and by His obedience to death brought in everlasting righteousness. You know that today He is at the Father's right hand, a Prince of life, a Saviour. There is no other name wherein you can trust your eternal interests, but in Christ you may rely fully, implicitly. Christ has been loved by you, although your faith has sometimes been feeble and your prospects confused. But Jesus is your Saviour. He does not save you because you are perfect, but because you need Him and in your imperfection have trusted in Him. Jesus loves you, my precious child. You may sing, DG 218.3
“Under the shadow of Thy throne
Still may we dwell secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.”—Letter 46, 1879. DG 219.1