"What do you think I shall do with myself when you die?" said I. "I am in a strange place, and have no one here belonging to me. 66 66 "O! the Lord will be with you and keep you. I could always believe for you when I could not for myself, and I can leave you in the hands of the Almighty, believing he will bring you safe through this wilderness world. I want the dear Saviour to smile upon me, to support me in my affliction." In the course of the week an aged Christian came to see her, and spent some time with her in prayer. The Lord blessed him with a spirit of supplication, and her soul was set at sweet liberty again. Then that precious portion of Scripture came in upon her mind: "Unto him that hath loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen." (Rev. i. 5, 6.) "O!" said she, "whether I was in the body or out of the body I scarcely know, for I seemed to be caught up to heaven, and I thought I heard my brethren and sisters singing that grand chorus. O! I wished I had had strength and breath that I could sing with them; my soul was filled with rapture; it seemed as if heaven were come into my bed-room. O what melodious music I seemed to hear! I should like to have that precious text preached from as a funeral text after my death. O! I hope my time is short. I want to leave this sinful body behind, and to be with my dear Saviour for ever, there to behold his face in righteousness, and never sin against him more." 66 As I was going out on night service I wished her "Good night;" and she said, I hope, if it is the Lord's will, this is the last night that I shall be here: "When shall I reach that happy place, And be for ever bless'd? When shall I see my Father's face, And in his bosom rest?"" After this sweet love visit the dear Lord went away again, and left her comfortless. Then came the powers of darkness and vexed her sorely, and her soul sank fathoms deep beneath Satan's horrid suggestions and insinuations; she appeared like one confounded and ashamed. After telling the Lord's people so many precious things, she did not like to confess openly the state of her mind, for it was in a more dreadful state than ever before. I expostulated with her, and spoke of the many dark and dismal scenes that we had passed through in our minds; how many strong temptations we had endured; how many times we had both been as the sparrow alone upon the house top;" how many times we had been shaken under the depravity of our sinful nature, and yet the Lord had brought us out of our misery, wretchedness, and woe, and put a new song of praise into our hearts, and enabled us to rejoice in his precious name. 66 "That is all right," said she, "but that will not do now." Then I spoke of the many precious promises the Lord had made to his people, to which she replied, "That is right enough, but I cannot rest upon any of these now in my dying hour. I am afraid, after all, my soul is deceived, and that I shall be left to die without Christ. O! what shall I do then? I shall be lost for ever and ever. What shall I do, after all my profession, to be cast out of his presence for ever!" She asked me to pray for her. I told her I could not do otherwise, even when I was out by night and by day, as well as when at home. "That is right," she said, with the greatest solemnity, and her parched, quivering lips showed me her departure was near. My heart was then ready to break within me, and I was obliged to leave off speaking to her. I turned from her, and begged the Lord to take the burden from her mind, and let me bear it for her, for I saw that her grief was too much for her. After a while, I talked with her again, and begged her to tell me if the dear Lord should appear for her again. 66 Yes," said she, "I will, if I can speak; I hope I shall not die in the dark." 66 About the day following, she was heard speaking, when alone, as though with the devil. I will continue praying," she said, "if thou dost have me at last; I hope thou wilt be deceived of thy prey after all.' I asked her afterwards, "How she was, and how she felt in her mind?" She answered, "Somewhat the same. I have something to tell you, and must do so before I die, and that is, the Lord's people have false evidences and false hopes to rest upon; and the Lord has shown me that I have rested on that which is not a real evidence of grace, and he is bringing me through such a trying path as I never before was in." I said, "You think you have some true evidences, do you not?" "I hope I have," she replied; "it is not quite all swept away; but this is the place to learn what religion is.' In the evening she continued, "I have something else to tell you, but my breathing is so bad I cannot tell you now.' "Yes I said, "Perhaps you will not live until another day." I shall," she said. And on the following morning she asked me to get the Bible, and said, "Let me show you what was blessed to my soul." They were the first two verses of Psalm xviii.; "I will love thee, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower." This was a feast of fat things to her distressed soul after being brought down to the borders of despair; and it was her meat and drink day and night till she died. My mother was with my wife in her affliction, and often read to her; and she said she could not remember ever spending such a happy night in all her thirty years' experience as she did the night before she died, for that precious psalm was made a blessing to her likewise. 46 A friend came to see her, and asked her how it was with her? She answered, "All is well! all is well!" She was then quite easy and free from pain, and very sensible, and wished all the friends Good night," and said to me, "Go and lie down, and rest yourself, and I will send for you when I am dying, that you may see me die." I wished her Good night," and lay down until a quarter before four o'clock in the morning, when my mother came and said to me, Jane is dying! make haste, or you will not see her die." Before I got into the bed-room, her senses were gone; her strength had failed; her eyes became dim, and she died in a few minutes after. When she was breathing her last, she smiled two or three times with the most heavenly smiles that I ever saw in my life, and gave up the ghost. When I went out of the bed-room, these words came sweetly to my mind: "O! the transporting, rapturous scene That rises to my sight! Sweet fields array'd in living green, B, August 27th, 1847. J. R. INQUIRY Sirs,-On page 333 of your November number, is the following singular paragraph:- But, alas! alas! my secret sins, my secret slips and falls, my cursed tempers, my base behaviour towards the best, the kindest, the most tender of Fathers, has made me the vilest sinner out of hell-yea, I do not believe there ever will be such a black soul in hell, for none will enter heaven that have been abusers of a Father's love." Now, what does this mean? Surely the writer does not mean to assert that "none can enter heaven that have been abusers of a Father's love?" If he does, and certainly the paragraph says so, and if the assertion be true, then woe is me! for I have abused a gracious Father's love in innumerable instances; to my shame I confess it. But I bless the Lord that the assertion is not true; and, therefore, my soul still hath hope. If the Lord's children abuse his love he will chastise them as a Father, but his lovingkindness he will never take away from them; and, therefore, they shall enter heaven at last. Please let this be noticed next month, if possible. November 9th, 1847. J. [The paragraph referred to in the above letter was a misprint, which we regret escaped our notice. What the writer meant was, that none could be in hell who had abused a Father's love, as that love had never been manifested to them, and, consequently, they could not abuse it. Already he (the writer, J. M.) had abused his love, and therefore he felt himself to be viler than any sinner in hell.—EDs.] EXTRACT. If it should be asked, What time is it with us now? whereabout we are? and what is yet to come of this night? As a faithful watchman, I will give you the best account I can. I take it we are in the Sardian church state, in the latter part of it, which, as before observed, brought on the Reformation, and represents that. We are in the decline of that state. And there are many things said of that church which agree with us; as, that we have a name that we live, and are dead; the name of the reformed churches, but without the life and power of true religion; and that there are a few, and but a few names among us, even in our Sardis, which have not defiled their garments (Rev. iii. 1, 4) with false doctrine or superstitious worship. The times we live in are just such as are described in Zec. xiv.. 6, 7, "That the light shall not be clear nor dark, but it shall be one day, which shall be known to the Lord, not day nor night." Not clear, not full day, as at noon, as it was in the times of Christ and his apostles. When the Sun of Righteousness was risen, and the shadows of Jewish and Gentile darkness vanished, and the gospel shone out in the ministry of the apostles; when the church had on her head a crown of twelve stars, was clothed with the sun, and had the moon under her feet. Nor is it so clear day with us as even at the Reformation. For though there may be some ministers and churches which may have more clear, distinct, and evangelic light than there was at that time; yet take the Protestant churches in the bulk, and there is not so much light now as then. Nor is it such clear day as it will be in the spiritual reign of Christ, when will be the brightness of Zion's rising; not to take notice of the kingdom-state during the thousand years, which will be all day, and no night; nor of the ultimate glory, the inheritance of the saints in light. And yet it is not totally dark, or quite night. Not so dark as it was with the Jews under the former dispensation, who could not see to the end of that which was to be abolished; much less as it was with the Gentiles before the coming of Christ; or as in the dark times of Popery; nor as it will be at the even-tide of the present dispensation we are under, before described. It is a sort of twilight with us, between clear and dark, between day and night. As to what of the night is yet to come, or what will befal the churches, and will bring on the dismal night before us; they are the slaying of the witnesses, and the universal spread of Popery all over Christendom; and the latter is the unavoidable consequence of the former. The slaying of the witnesses, which I understand not so much in a literal sense, or of a corporeal death; though there may be many slain in this sense when it will be; but in a civil sense, with respect to their ministry, being silenced by their enemies and neglected by their friends. This is an affair that is not yet over.— Affliction (our light), which is but for a moment, worketh for us a Augustine, who died in the year 430, a Passage from his Experience 327 May the Lord's Supper be administered to an unbaptized person who is sick at home? 283 ............. Sunday Schools and Carnal Games 285 On "A Caution to the Editors and Readers of the August Number of the Gospel Standard." 344 ...... |