From day to day he grew weaker. Medical science had little to offer in treating pneumonia, and it now seemed certain there would be no recovery. The record is:
On the fifth [day], burdened with grief, his father retired to a place of prayer, and after returned to the sickroom, feeling the assurance that God would do all things well, and thus expressed himself to his suffering son. At this his countenance seemed to light up with a heavenly smile, and he nodded his assent and whispered, "Yes, He will" (ibid., p. 27).
In one conversation he said:
"Father, you are losing your son. You will miss me, but don't mourn. It is better for me. I shall escape being drafted, and shall not witness the seven last plagues. To die so happy is a privilege" (ibid., p. 29).