Eva Linde English, 1896 ~ 1956. On August twenty-second, the Editor's beloved wife, Eva went to be with the Lord. Our first impulse was to write a rather long article and to publish some tributes to her. But she would have wanted no praise; for her, it is enough, more than enough, "far better" to be with Christ. To Him, she is very precious. To her husband, her memory is unspeakably and unforgettably sweet. Those who knew her, will long remember her Christian grace and loveliness of character. The last words that she spoke, about ten days before her departure, were the blessed and comforting verses of the Twenty-Third Psalm which we recited together, she haltingly and in tones barely audible. During our last half-hour alone, the night before she went Home, we spoke to her of the Father's house of many mansions—about the Editor knows so little and she so much now—and we asked her to tell the Lord Jesus of our love for Him, imperfect as it is and to implore Him to hold our hand along the lonely road that lies ahead. We asked her to convey messages of special love to some who have been in Heaven for a while now; the Editor’s mother, A. C. Gaebelein, H. A. Ironside, Isaac Page, Reginald Wallis and others. She could not answer, but we believe that she understood all that was said, although her mind was dim. Then we bade her farewell in these words: “Goodbye, darling. I’ll see you in the glory. I can hardly wait.” In a few hours, she was gone. Eva Linde English was the most Christlike and completely lovely person the Editor has ever known. To her, to live was Christ, and to die gain. “The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
‘Twas He who gave. And ah, how rich a portion! None but Himself knew full its rich degree; The joy, the joy unspeakable, and sweetness Shared just by Him in His own gift to thee.
And now, ‘tis He—yes, He Himself hath taken The gift which in His tender love, He gave. O shadowed soul, O heart so near to breaking, His grace e’en in this hour can make thee brave.
Yes, He hath taken, No, ah no, not blindly; Nor yet with cold and stern, unfeeling will. But why? We can’t explain. We know was kindly, The rest we leave with Him, with Him until—
‘Till that blest morning breaks without a shadow; No longer darkly then, but face to face. We'll see, behold, yes, understand completely The sweet, unerring working of His grace.
Soon, soon may break that morn of cloudless glory; Quick, quick, may sound that shout, that joyful "Come," And then, ah then, the wondrous boundless rapture, The Master! And the Meeting! And the Home!
