Ellen G. White: The Later Elmshaven Years: 1905-1915 (vol. 6)

Waning Strength And Death

But Ellen White's strength was waning fast now. Some days she was not aware of those in the room. She was not eating, and her body was wasting away, although she was given a little albumen water—the white of egg in water—from time to time as she would take it. On the morning of Thursday, July 8, she aroused sufficiently to say: “I do not suffer much, thank the Lord.” And then to Sara she added: “It will not be long now.”—WCW to “Friend,” July 14, 1915; WCW to G. I. Butler, July 26, 1915. 6BIO 430.10

Friday morning, July 9, she rallied enough to talk a little to Sara and to her son. He prayed and told his mother that they would trust all in the hands of Jesus. 6BIO 431.1

She responded, saying in a faint whisper, “I know in whom I have believed.”—Life Sketches of Ellen G. White, 449. 6BIO 431.2

Treatments were discontinued. On Thursday, July 15, W. C. White reported that everything was being done for her that kind hearts and willing hands could do. But now she lingered in silence, quietly breathing her life away. 6BIO 431.3

The next day, Friday, July 16, at about two o'clock the nurses saw that the end was very near and sent for W. C. White and his wife, May. They hastened to the home and her room. As her breathing slowed, others were notified and made their way one or two at a time to the second-floor room. C. C. Crisler and his wife, Minnie, soon joined the group. Then there were Ellen White's granddaughter Mabel White Workman; her farm manager, Iram James, and his wife; her accountant, A. H. Mason, and Mrs. Mason; Mrs. Mary Chinnock Thorp, of longtime acquaintance; her housekeeper, Tessie Woodbury. And of course there were the three nurses: Sara McEnterfer, who had been her faithful companion, nurse, and secretary for many years; May Walling; and Carrie Hungerford, who had waited on her night and day for 153 days since the accident. 6BIO 431.4

In the morning Ellen White's respiration had been clocked at fifty per minute, but at three o'clock it was thirty-eight; at three-twenty it was eighteen, and a little later only ten. Then her breathing became slower and more irregular, until without a tremor the breathing stopped. It was three-forty. No one in the room stirred for several minutes, thinking she might take yet another breath. But she did not (WCW to David Lacey, July 20, 1915; WCW to G. I. Butler, July 26, 1915). 6BIO 431.5

Describing the experience, W. C. White wrote: 6BIO 431.6

It was like the burning out of a candle, so quiet.—WCW to David Lacey, July 20, 1915.