A physician’s words of comfort

My mother, Winifride, was a woman of rare sanctity. She was continually exercised with the affliction of a weak body, and oft of a wounded spirit, the agonies whereof as she would oft recount with much passion, professing that the greatest bodily sicknesses were but flea-bites to those scorpions, so from them all at last she found a happy and comfortable deliverance, and that not without a more than ordinary hand of God. For on a time, being in great distress of conscience, she thought in her dream, there stood by her a grave personage, in the gown and other habits of a physician, who inquiring of her estate, and receiving a sad and querulous answer from her, took her by the hand, and bade her be of good comfort, for this should be the last fit that ever she should feel of this kind; whereto she seemed to answer, that upon that condition she could well be content for the time, with that, or any other torment. Reply was made to her, as she thought, with a redoubled assurance of that happy issue of this her last trial; whereat she began to conceive an unspeakable joy; which yet upon her awaking left her more disconsolate, as then conceiting her happiness imaginary, her misery real; when the very same day she was visited by the reverend and (in his time) famous divine, Mr. Anthony Gilby, under whose ministry she lived; who, upon the relation of this her pleasing vision, and the contrary effects it had in her, began to persuade her that dream was no other than Divine, and that she had good reason to think that gracious premonition was sent her from God Himself, who, though ordinarily He keeps the common road of his proceedings, yet sometimes in the distresses of his servants, He goes unusual ways to their relief. Hereupon she began to take heart, and by good counsel and her fervent prayers, found that happy prediction verified to her: and upon all occasions in the remainder of her life, was ready to magnify the mercy of her God in so sensible a deliverance.