From Farm House to the White House - 912 Freedom Library

Farm House to the White House, by William M. Thayer 39
"It might have been as well had we known," Mr. Washington responded, in a suggestive way.
"Do you think that your sickness will prove fatal?"
"I fear so. I think I am losing ground fast. I have failed very much in strength the last twenty-four hours. God's
will be done."
"I hope I shall have grace to say so honestly."
"And I trust that God will give me grace to say so with true submission," continued Mr. Washington. "I
should like to live if it is God's will; but if He orders otherwise, we must accept His ordering as best."
Mrs. Washington could say no more. Her cup of sorrow was full and running over. But she sorrowed not as
one without hope. Both she and her husband had been active Christians. They were prominent working
members of the Episcopal Church. They knew, from happy experience, that solace and support were found in
divine grace, so that this sudden and terrible affliction did not overtake them unawares, really. They were
prepared for it in an important sense.
The doctor called just as this interview closed, and he seconded Mr. Washington's request to send for George.
"A great change has come over him since yesterday," he said to Mrs. Washington.
"He just told me that he was sinking," replied Mrs. Washington.
"I fear it is so; and George better be sent for at soon as possible. A few hours may bring the end." The
physician spoke as if there were no more ground for hope.
"May God have mercy on us," responded Mrs. Washington, as she hastened from the room, with deep
emotion, to despatch a servant for George.
Mr. Washington continued to sink rapidly during the day, his reason at times wavering, though his distress
was not acute. Conscious that he could not survive many hours, he expressed an anxiety to see George once
more, and seemed impatient for his arrival.
It was almost night when George arrived, and his father was dying. His mother met him at the door, with
emotion too deep for utterance. Her tears and despairing look told the story more plainly than words to
George. He knew that there was no hope.
Hastening into his father's presence he was appalled by the change. That cheerful, loving face was struck with
death. Fastening his eyes upon his son, as if he recognized him, the dying man looked his last farewell. He
could not speak nor lift a finger. He was almost "beyond the river."
George was completely overcome. Throwing himself upon his father's neck, he broke into convulsive sobs,
kissing him again and again, and giving way to the most passionate grief. The scene was affecting beyond
description. All hearts were melted by the child's artless exhibition of filial love and sorrow. He loved his
father with a devotion that knew no bounds, as he had reason to love him. Without this paternal friend, life
would lose its charm to him, and he "would never be glad any more." So it seemed to him when he first was
made conscious that his father was dying. The great sorrow seemed too great for him to bear. His young heart
well nigh burst.
Here we have evidence of what George was as a son. He had not only loved and reverenced his father, but he
had obeyed him with true filial respect. Obedience was one of his leading virtues. This endeared him to his