Memoirs of eminently pious women

^ PRINCETON, N. J. <ff

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MEMOIRS

OF V

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EMINENTLY PIOUS WOMEN

OF

THE BRITISH EMPIRE.

A NEW EDITION,

REVISED AND ENLARGED DY

THE REV. SAMUEL BURDER, M.A.

Late of Clare Hall, Ca mbridge ; Lecturer of the United Parishes of Christ

Church, Newgate Street, and St. Leonard, Foster Lane, London ; and

Chaplain to His late Royal Highness the Duke of Kent.

IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. IL

Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman tliat fearetb the
Lord, she shall be praised. — Prov. xxxi. 30.

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR OGLE, DUNCAN, AND CO.

37, PATERNOSTER ROW, AND 295, HOLBORN ;

WAUGH & INNES, W. OLIPHANT, AND OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBURGH ;
M. OGLE, GLASGOW; A^ID R. M. TIMS, DUBLIN.

1823.

LDNDON:

PRINTED BY J. MOVES, CUEVILT.E STREET.

THEOLOGICAL

Vv,

"^"^

CONTENTS

OF

THE SECOND VOLUME.

Page

THE COUNTESS OF CARBERY 1

THE VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND 14

LADY HALKET 35

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE 52

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON 73

MRS. EVELYN 105

MRS. SAVAGE 117

MRS. HULTON 134

MRS. BULKLEY 142

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD 147

LADY MARGARET STEWART , I71

MRS. REBECCA COMBE igo

MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON .„ 186

MISS MARY TERRY , 193

MRS. HOUSMAN 201

IV CONTENTS.

Page

MRS. ANN DUTTON 227

THE COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON 256

LADY ANN ERSKINE 26?

MRS. TALBOT 275

MRS. GRACE BENNET 281

MRS. FLIGHT 313

MRS. DORNFORD 321

MRS. WOODD 330

MRS. WALKER 344

MRS. CAMPBELL 367

MRS. CUNNINGHAM 374

MRS. ALTHENS 415

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MEMOIRS

OF

EMINENTLY PIOUS WOMEN.

THE COUNTESS OF CARBERY.

The countess of CARBERY, who died in the prime
of life in the year 1650, was the lady of Richard,
Earl of Carbery. The following character is ex-
tracted from a sermon preached at her funeral by
the pious, learned, and eloquent Dr. Jeremy Taylor,
and published in a collection of his discourses
in folio :

" I have now done with my text, but am yet to
make you another sermon. I have told you the
necessity and the state of death; it may be too
largely for such a sad story ; I shall, therefore, now,
with a better compendium, teach you how to live,
by telling you a plain narrative of a life, which if
you imitate and write after the copy, it will make,
that death shall not be an evil, but a thing to be
desired, and to be reckoned amongst the purchases
and advantages of your fortune. When Martha and
Mary went to weep over the grave of their brother,
Christ met them there, and preached a funeral
sermon ; discoursing of the resurrection, and apply-
ing to the purposes of faith, and confession of
Christ, and glorification of God : we have no other,
we can have no better precedent to follow ; and now

VOL. II. B

2 MEMOIRS OF

that we are come to weep over the grave of our dear
sister, this rare personage, we cannot choose but
have many virtues to learn, many to imitate, and
some to exercise.

'' I choose not to declare her extraction and genea-
logy ; it was, indeed, fair and honourable; but,
having the blessing to be descended from worthy
and honoured ancestors, and herself to be adopted
and ingrafted into a more noble family, yet, she
felt such outward appendages to be none of hers,
because not of her choice, but the purchase of the
virtues of others, which although they did engage
her to do noble things, yet, they would upbraid all
degenerate and less honourable lives than were
those which began and increased the honour of
the families. Accordingly, myself have been a
witness of it, how this excellent lady would, by
an act of humility and Christian abstraction, strip
herself of all that fair appendage of exterior honour
which decked her person and her fortune ; and
desired to be owned by nothing but what was her
own, that she might only be esteemed honourable
. according to that which is the honour of a Christian
and a wise person.

'' She had a strict and severe education, and it
was one of God's graces and favours to her. For,
being the heiress of a great fortune, and living
amongst the throng of persons in the sight of
vanities and empty temptations, that is, in that part
of the kingdom where greatness is too often ex-
pressed in great follies and great vices, God had
provided a severe education to chastise the forward-
nesses of a young spirit and a fair fortune ; and
intending to secure this soul to himself, would not
suffer the follies of the world to seize upon her by
way of too near a trial, or busy temptation.

*' She was married young ; in passing through
which line of providence, she had the art to secure
her eternal interest, by turning her condition into

LADY CARBERY. 3

duty, and expressing her duty in the greatest
eminency of a virtuous, prudent, and rare affection ;
which 1 note in her as that which I would have
exemplar to all ladies and to all women : and
although this was a great enamel to the beauty of
her soul, yet, it might in some degrees be also a
reward to the virtue of her lord ; for she would
often discourse it to them that conversed with her,
that he would improve that interest which he had
in her affection to the advantages of God and of
religion ; and she would delight to say, that he
called her to her devotions, he encouraged her good
inclinations, he directed her piety, he invited her
with good books ; and then she loved religion,
which she saw was not only pleasing to God, and
an act or state of duty, but pleasing to her lord,
and an act also of affection and conjugal obedience.

" As she was a rare wife, so, she was an excellent
mother ; for in so tender a constitution of spirit as
hers was, and in so great a kindness towards her
children, there hath seldom been seen a stricter and
more curious care of their persons, their deport-
ment, their nature, their disposition, their learning,
and their customs ; and if ever kindness and care
did contest and make parties in her, yet, her care
and her severity were ever victorious ; and she knew
not how to do an ill turn to their severer part, by
her more tender and forward kindness.

" But, if we examine how she demeaned herself
towards God, there also you will find her not of a
common, but of an exemplary piety. She was a
great reader of Scripture, confining herself to great
portions every day ; which she read, not to the pur-
poses of vanity and impertinent curiosity, not to
seem knowing or to become talking, not to expound
and rule, but to teach her all her duty, to instruct
her in the knowledge and love of God and of her
neighbours, to make her more humble, and to teach

b2

4 MEMOIRS OF

her to despise the world and all its gilded vanities ;
and that she might entertain passions wholly in
design and order to heaven. I have seen a female
religion that wholly dwelt upon the face and tongue ;
that like a wanton and undressed tree, spends all its
juice in suckers and irregular branches, in leaves
and gum ; and after all such goodly outsides, you
shall never eat of the fruit, or be delighted with the
beauties or the perfumes of a hopeful blossom. But
the religion of this excellent lady was of another
constitution ; it took root downward in humility,
and brought forth fruit upward in the substantial
graces of a Christian, in charity and justice, in
chastity and modesty, in fair friendships and sweet-
ness of society. She had not very much of the
forms and outsides of godliness, but she was singu-
larly careful for the power of it, for the moral,
essential, and useful parts ; such as would make her
he, not seem to be, religious.

" She was a very constant person at her prayers,
and spent all her time, which nature did permit to
her choice, in her devotions, and reading and medi-
tating, and the necessary offices of household govern-
ment, every one of which is an action of religion,
some by nature, some by adoption. To these also
God gave her a very great love to hear the word of
God preached ; in which, because I had sometimes
the honour to minister to her, I can give this certain
testimony, that she was a diligent, watchful, and
attentive hearer ; and to this had so excellent a
judgment, that if ever I saw a woman whose judg-
ment was to be revered, it was hers alone. But her
appetite was not soon satisfied with what was useful
to her soul ; she was also a constant reader of
sermons, and seldom missed to read one every day ;
and that she might be full of instruction and holy
principles, she had lately designed to have a large
book, in which she purposed to have a stock of

LAt)Y CARBEEY. 0

religion transcribed in such assistances as she would
choose, that she might be readily furnished and
instructed to every good work. But God prevented
that, and hath filled her desires not out of cisterns
and little aqueducts, but hath carried her to the
fountain, where ' she drinks of the pleasures of the
river,' and is full of God.

*' She always lived a life of much innocence, free
from the violences of greiit sins. Her person, her
breeding, her modesty, her honour, her religion, her
early marriage, the guide of her soul, and the guide
of her youth, were so many fountains of restraining
grace to her, to keep her from the dishonours of a
crime. It is good to bear the yoke of the Lord
from our youth ; and though she did so, being
guarded by a mighty providence, and a great favour
and grace of God, from staining her fair soul with
the spots of hell, yet, she had strange fears and early
cares upon her. But these were not only for herself,
but in order to others, to her nearest relatives. And
because she knew that the sins of parents descend
upon children, she endeavoured by justice and reli-
gion, by charity and honour, to secure that her
channel should convey nothing but health and a fair
example and a blessing.

^' And though her accounts to God were made up
of nothing but small parcels, little passions, and
angry words, and trifling discontents, which are the
allays of the piety of the most holy persons, yet,
she was early at her repentance ; and toward the
latter end of her days grew so fast in religion, as if
she had had a revelation of her approachino- end,
and therefore that she must go a great way in a little
time : her discourses were more full of religion, her
prayers more frequent, her charity increasing, her
forgiveness more forward, her friendships more com-
municative, her passions more under discipline ; and
so she trimmed her lamp, not thinking her night was

6 MEMOIRS OF

SO near, but that it might shine also in the day-time,
in the temple, and before the altar of incense.

** But in this course of hers there were some
circumstances, and some appendages of substance,
which were highly remarkable.

" 1. In all her religion, and in all her actions of
relation towards God, she had a singular evenness
and untroubled passage, sliding towards her ocean
of God and of infinity with a certain and silent
motion. So have I seen a river deep and smooth
passing with a still foot and a sober face, and paying
to the great exchequer of the sea, the prince of all
the watery bodies, a tribute large and full ; and
hard by it a little brook skipping and making a
noise upon its unequal and neighbour bottom ; and
after all its talking and bragged motion, it paid to
its common audit no more than the revenues of a
little cloud or a contemptible vessel. So have I
sometimes compared the issues of her religion to
the solemnities and famed outsides of another's
piety. It dwelt upon her spirit, and was incorpo-
rated with the periodical work of every day. She
did not believe that religion was intended to minister
to fame and reputation, but to pardon of sins, to the
pleasure of God, and the salvation of souls.

" 2. The other appendage of her religion, which
also was a great ornament to all the parts of her life,
was a rare modesty and humiUty of spirit, a confident
[resolute] despising and undervaluing of herself.
For though she had the greatest judgment, and the
greatest experience of things and persons that I ever
yet knew in a person of her youth, and sex, and
circumstances, yet, as if she knew nothing of it,
she had the meanest opinion of herself, and, like a
fair taper, when she shined to all the room, yet
round about her own station she had cast a shadow
and a cloud, and she shined to every body but
herself. But the perfection of her prudence and

LADY CARBERY. 7

excellent parts could not be hid, and all her humility
and arts of concealment made the virtues more
amiable and illustrious.

*' I know not by what instrument it happened, but
when death drew near, before it made any shew upon
her body, or revealed itself by a natural signification,
it was conveyed to her spirit. She had a strange
secret persuasion, that the bringing this child into
the world should be her last scene of life ; and so it
was that the thought of death dwelt long with her,
and grew from the first steps of fancy and fear to a
consent, from thence to a strange credulity and
expectation of it, and without the violence of sick-
ness, she died. And in this I cannot but adore the
providence, and admire the wisdom and infinite
mercies of God; for, having a tender and soft, a
delicate and fine constitution, she was tender to
pain, and apprehensive of it, as a child's shoulder is
of a load and burden, and in her often discourses
of death, which she would renew willingly and
frequently, she would tell that she feared not death,
but she feared the sharp pains of death. The being
dead and being freed from the troubles and dangers
of this world, she hoped would be for her advantage,
and therefore that was no part of her fear ; but she
believing the pangs of death were great, and the
use and aids of reason little, feared lest they should
do violence to her spirit and the decency of her
resolution. But God that knew her fears and her
jealousy concerning herself, fitted her with a death
so easy, so harmless, so painless, that it did not put
her patience to a severe trial. It was not in (in all
appearance) of so much trouble as two fits of a
common ague ; so careful was God to demonstrate
to all that stood in that sad attendance, that this
soul was dear to him ; and that since she had done
so much of her duty to him, he that began, would
also finish her redemption by an act of a rare pro-
vidence and a singular mercy.

8 MEMOIRS OF

" Blessed be that goodness of God, who doe^
such careful actions of mercy for the ease and
security of his servants. But this one instance was
a great demonstration that the apprehension of
death is worse than the pains of death ; and that
God loves to reprove the mireasonableness of our
fears, by the mightiness and by the arts of his
mercy.

** She had in her sickness, if I may so call it, or
rather in the solemnities and graver preparations
towards death, some remarkable and well-becoming
fears concerning the final estate of her soul. But
from thence she passed into a deliquium, or a kind
of trance ; and as soon as she came forth of it, as if
it had been a vision, or that she had conversed with
an angel, and from his hand had received a label or
scroll of the book of life, and there seen her name
enrolled, she cried out aloud, * Glory be to God on
high : now I am sure I shall be saved.' Concerning
which manner of discoursing, we are wholly ignorant
what judgment can be made ; but certainly, there
are strange things in the other world, and so there
are in all the immediate preparation to it; and a
little glimpse of heaven, a minute's conversing with
an angel, any ray of God, any communication extra-
ordinary from the spirit of comfort which God gives
to his servants in strange and unknown manners,
are infinitely far from illusions ; and they shall then
be understood by us when we feel them, and when
our new and strange needs shall be refreshed by
such unusual visitations.

" But I must be forced to use summaries and arts
of abbreviature in the enumerating those things in
which this rare personage was dear to God, and to
all her relatives. If we consider her person, she
was in the flower of her age, of a temperate, plain,
and natural diet, without curiosity or an intemperate
palate ; she spent less time in dressing than many
servants j her recreations were little and seldom.

LADY CARlBERY. 9

$i€r prayers often, her reading much ; she was of a
most noble and charitable soul ; a great lover of
honourable actions, and as great a despiser of base
things ; especially loving to oblige others, and very
unwilling to be in arrear to any upon the stock of
courtesies and liberality ; so free in all acts of favour
that she would not stay to hear herself thanked, as
being unwilling that what good went from her to a
needful or an obliged person should ever return to
her again ; she was an excellent friend, and singu-
larly dear to very many, especially to the best and
most discerning persons, to all that conversed with
her and could understand her great worth and sweet-
ness ; she w^as of an honourable, a nice and tender
reputation ; and of the pleasures of this world,
which were laid before her in heaps, she took a very
small and inconsiderable share, as not loving to glut
herself with vanity, or to take her portion of good
things here below. If we look on her as a wife, she
was chaste and loving, discreet and humble. If we
remember her as a mother, she was kind and severe,
careful and prudent, very tender, and not at all fond,
a greater lover of her children's souls than of their
bodies, and one that would value them more by the
strict rules of honour and proper worth, than by
their relation to herself. Her servants found her
prudent and fit to govern, and yet open-handed and
apt to reward ; a just exactor of their duty, and a
great rewarder of their diligence. She was in her
house a comfort to her dearest lord, a guide to her
children, a rule to her servants, an example to all.

"But as she was rel-ated to God in the offices of
religion, she was even and constant, silent and de-
vout, prudent and material [solid] ; she loved what
she now enjoys, and she feared what she never felt,
and God did for her what she never did expect.
Her fears went beyond all her evil ; and yet the
good which she hath received, was, and is^ and ever
shall be, beyond all her hopes.

£ 5

10 MEMOIRS OF

" She lived as we all should live, and she died as
I fain would die —

Et cvLva supremos Lachesis pervenerit annos,
Non aliter cineres mando jacere meos/'

The preceding character is drawn in so striking
and comprehensive a manner, and its peculiar beauty
and excellence are pointed out with so correct and
discriminating a judgment by the pious and eloquent
author, that but little need be added, to recommend
it to the imitation of the reader ; the following brief
observations, however, will not be thought wholly
superfluous.

The elevated rank of the subject of the foregoing
eulogy, is, first, deserving of attention. Lady Car-
bery moved in that sphere of life which is exposed
to peculiar dangers and temptations from the allure-
ments of the world ; and in which " greatness" (as
it is admirably observed) is, in consequence, *' too
" often expressed in great follies and great vices."
Hence, the example of her piety and virtue shines
with a lustre proportioned to the eminence on which
she was placed, and to the difficulties with which
she was surrounded. She had, indeed, the singular
advantage of ** a strict and severe education ;" by
which we are evidently to understand, an education
conducted upon the genuine principles of Chris-
tianity, which, under the Divine blessing, tended to
correct the false views and expectations which her
situation would naturally produce, and to set before
her the good and perfect will of God, as the rule of
her sentiments and conduct, and conformity to it as
the source of all true greatness and happiness. Thus
wisely brought up ^' in the nurture and admonition
of " the Lord," she came forth into the world well
qualified to adorn her exalted station. It is, how-
ever, greatly to the honour of the age in which she
lived, that Lady Carbery was by no means a singular

LADY CARBERY. 11

example of piety united to high rank and fortune.
Many others, of equal condition and of either sex,
grace the annals of that period by a similar display
of religious excellence. And this is a circumstance
which deserves to be particularly noticed. If in the
present day we look to the characters of the higher
orders of society, we shall find but very few who
resemble that of Lady Carbery. Doubtless,

*' We boast some rich ones whom the Gospel sways ;
** And one who wears a coronet, and prays !"'

But still, as the same truly Christian poet adds,

** Like gleanings of an olive-tree, they shew
** Here and there one upon the topmost bough."

Yet why should this be so ? True religion is so
far from being an enemy to human greatness or
prosperity, that wherever it is found in conjunction
with them, it is seen to add grace and dignity to the
one, and to lessen the dangers and increase the
happiness of the other. Should this memoir, there-
fore, fall into the hands of any who are thus highly
favoured by this world's good, let them learn from
the example of Lady Carbery, that to be truly noble,
they must be '* born of God ;" that to possess real
wealth, they must be ^' rich towards HimJ'' " rich
*' in faith, and heirs of a kingdom which cannot be
*' moved."

But there are two or three features in the religious
character of this lady, to which we would particularly
direct the attention of our readers of every descrip-
tion. What we have principally in view may be
denominated the solidity of her piety. The religion
of Lady Carbery was founded in humility before
God, and was richly productive of the substantial
graces and virtues of a Christian ; the love of God and
of her neighbours; subdued and well-regulated affec-
tions and desires respecting the things of this world;

12 MEMOIRS OF

and a daily preparation for the employments and
pleasures of a better. Her chief care and anxiety
seem to have been directed towards the attainment
and exercise of the power of godliness. For this
she read the word of God, prayed in public and in
private, and listened to the instructions of the pulpit.
Religion, in short, appears to have been considered
by her, not so much as intended to procure her any
particular character amongst men, as '* to teach her
*' all her duty/' to make her perfect and complete in
all the will of God.

As a striking proof of the truth of these observa-
tions, we request our readers, especially the female
part of them, to consider the exemplary and amiable
conduct of Lady Carbery in every domestic relation
and duty, more particularly in her conduct towards
her children. This is a part of her character which
is well deserving of imitation. '* Her religion,'* adds
her pious eulogist, ** dwelt upon her spirit, and was
" incorporated with the periodical work of every
" day.'* This is pure and undefiled religion. May
its influence be more widely diffused throughout the
religious world ; for this is good and profitable unto
men, and redounds to the glory of God !

Conformably to such a life was the death of Lady
Carbery ; calm and peaceful, and honoured by a
remarkable token of the Divine presence and favour.
The account which is given of this circumstance, is
no less judicious than it is beautiful and interesting.
And there is something peculiarly satisfactory in the
evidence by which it is attested. It is greatly to be
feared, that the want of more frequent instances of
this kind in the present day, is owing to our low
attainments in the knowledge and love of God.
Hence it is, that the promise, amongst others of a
similar nature, which is recorded John, xiv. 23, is
so seldom accomphshed in life, and at the hour of
death.

LADY CARBERY. 13

What has thus been added to the character of
Lady Carbery, will tend to recommend to the notice
of our readers that kind of religion of which she
was so eminent an example ; retired, yet substantial,
elevated in its principles, yet chiefly discernible in
the moral regulation of the heart and life, by the
precepts of the gospel.

14 MEMOIRS OF

LADY LETICE,
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND.

[Written in a Letter to her Mother, the Lady Morison, at Great
Tew, in Oxfordshire.]

MADAM,

It is the desire of some honourable personages, to
have an exact account of the death of your most
dear daughter, the Lady Falkland : they being privy
to much piety in her life, expect (as well they may)
somewhat remarkable in her sickness and death.

For your comfort and their satisfaction, I have
gathered together some scattered particulars of her
life, sickness, and death, and have sent them unto
you, that the most precious perfume of her name
being poured out, (like Mary's box of spikenard,)
may fill your and their houses. And though this
relation of so many eminent virtues in her, would
not, perhaps, have appeared so delicate from your
own pen, because so deep a share of the praise
belongs to you ; yet, you need not blush at the deli-
vering of it; it may consist with your modesty, to
be a witness of the truth of these particulars, though
not to be the publisher of them. And if the memory
of that most holy lady continue precious amongst
us, and her holy example efficacious with us, and
God, who sanctified her here, and now glorifies her
in heaven, be magnified and honoured for his mercies
and graces, I have all I aim at.

I shall relate somewhat remarkable in the very
beginning of her Christian race ; more, in her pro-
gress and proficiency in it ; and then come to the
last stages, when the crown at the end of the race
was, as it were, within her view.

LADY FALKLAND. 15

This elect lady set out early in the ways of God,
in the morning of her age : there was care taken
while she was young, that she should be brought up
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. She
came not from her nurse's arms, without some know-
ledge of the principles of the Christian rehgion.
While she was very young, her obedience to her
parents, (which she extended also to her aunt, who
had some charge over her in her father's house,) was
very exact; and as she began, so she continued in
this gracious and awful temper of duty. I have
heard you say, madam, that you cannot remember
any one particular, wherein, at any time, she dis-
obeyed her father, or you.

That her time might not be misspent, nor her
employments tedious to her, the several hours of the
day had variety of employments assigned to them ;
and the intermixing of prayer, reading, writing,
working, and walking, brought a pleasure to each of
them in their courses ; so that the day was carried
about faster than she would ; and she began in this
her youth to abridge herself of her sleep, and was
oftentimes at a book in her closet when she was
thought to be in bed.

You remember well, I presume, the purse her
young fingers wrought for her own alms, and how
importunately she would beg your single money to
fill it ; and as greedy she was of emptying it too.
The poor seldom went from the house, without the
alms of the young daughter, as well as of the parents.

And how constant she v/as then, at her private
prayer, I know, by what I have heard from the
keeper of your house. When strangers were in her
own room, where she ordinarily had her retirements,
he was called to give her the key of some other
chamber for that purpose : at her hour of prayer,
she would procure a new oratory, rather than omit, or
defer that duty. And how powerful with God the
lifting up of her pure hands, every where in this her

16 MEMOIRS OF

innocent childhood, was, soon appeared ; for, while
her holiness was in the bud, a violent attempt was
made to blast it. About the thirteenth year of her
age, there was a storm of temptation raised in her,
and some arguments the tempter had suggested to
drive her to despair of God's mercy towards her.
And this I note the rather, because it is not ordinary
at such years to have attained to that growth, as to
be thought fit for those encounters. But God upheld
this young twig against such a storm, which hath
torn up many a fair tree ; for, after some anguish of
spirit, and patience in the combat, and earnest
prayers, God's grace was sufficient for her. And
surely it was not the strength of her hands at this age,
but the pureness of them, which prevailed for her.

After this conquest, her soul enjoyed much peace
and tranquillity, and she went on most cheerfully in
holy duties ; and tasted much comfort and delight
in them; and her heart was ever so full, that out of
the abundance of it she would say, ** Oh what an
*' incomparable sweetness there is in the music of
*' David's harp ! Oh, what heavenly joy there is in
" those psalms, and in prayers, and praises to God !
" How amiable are the courts of God's house ! how
" welcome the days of his solemn worship !" And
now, nothing could hinder her from those holy
assemblies. Every Lord*s-day constantly, forenoon
and afternoon, she would be with the earliest at
them : some while, (when she wanted a convenience
of riding,) she walked cheerfully three or four miles
a day, as young and as weak as she was, to them ;
and at night, she accounted the joys and the refresh-
ments which her soul had been partaker of, a suffi-
cient recompense for the extreme weariness of her
body. And within a short while, by reading good
authors, and by frequent converse with learned men,
she improved (by God's help) her natural talents of
understanding and reason, to a great degree of
wisdom and knowledge.

LADY FALKLAND. IT'

And now these riches, of her piety, wisdom, quick-
ness of wit, discretion, judgment, sobriety, and gra-
vity of behaviour, being once perceived by Sir Lucius
Gary, seemed portion enough to him : these he prized
above worldly inheritances and those other fading
accessions which most men court. And she being
married to him, riches and honour, and all other
worldly prosperity, flowed in upon her ; and conse-
quently, to proceed in holiness and godliness grew
an harder task, than before it seemed to be ; it being
much more difficult when riches and honour thus
increase, not to set our hearts upon them.

Yet God enabled her by his grace for this also ;
for, when possession was given her of stately
palaces, pleasantly seated, and most curiously and
fully furnished, and of revenues and royalties answer-
able, though your ladyship hath heard her acknow-
ledge God's great goodness towards her, for these
temporal preferments, yet, neither you, nor any of
her friends, could perceive her heart any whit exalted
with joy for them. They were of the Babylonians'
retinue, who, when they had seen Hezekiah's riches
and treasures, set their hearts upon them. (Isaiah,
xxxix.) This true Israelite reserved her affections
for those riches which never fade, and for those
dwellings which are above, vv^here the city is of pure
gold, and the walls garnished with precious stones.

This confluence of all worldly felicities and con-
tentments did so little affect her, that there were
some seemed displeased at it ; and then she would
attribute much of it to a melancholic disease, which
was upon her. And though I deny not that some
worldly delights might fall by the hand of her melan-
choly, yet, doubtless, where the disease slew its
hundreds, grace slew its ten thousands.

In this condition some years passed, during which
time she was most constant at prayers and sermons,
and frequently received the blessed Sacrament ; and
although now and then, she felt not her wonted

18 MEMOIRS OF

spiritual comforts, but, instead of them, had some
anguish, and bitterness of spirit ; yet, by the advice
of good divines, and by her ordinary help of prayer,
she soon recovered her peace and joy.

Thus in the several conditions of youth, and ripe
years of virginity, and marriage, and amongst con-
trary temptations, of adversity and prosperity, afflic-
tion and comfort, she continued that course of holy
life which she had begun ; a great proficiency this,
yet I crave leave to reckon it all into her beginning,
for this w2ls but slow in respect of that great agility
and quick speed she attained unto, in the other part
of her spiritual race.

Her proficiency and progress I shall account from
that time when her prosperity began to abate ; when
her dear lord and most beloved husband went from
his library to the camp ; from his book and pen, to
his sword and spear ; and the consequence of that, an
inevitable necessity, that she must now be divorced
from him, for a while, whom she loved more than all
the things of this world. This was a sad beginning ;
but that total divorce which, soon after, death made
between him and her, that he should be taken away
by an untimely death, and by a violent death too, —
this, this was a most sore affliction to her : the same
sword which killed him, pierced her heart also. And
this heavy affliction which God sent upon her, she
interpreted for a loud call from Heaven, to a further
proficiency in piety and virtue. And yet, she feared
it might be a punishment also upon her, for some sin
or other, and therefore strictly examined herself, and
ransacked every corner of her heart, to find out
wherein she had provoked God to lay this great
affliction on her.

And now she addressed herself to a divine of great
eminency for piety and learning ; and from him she
took directions for a more strict course of life in this
her widowhood, than formerly. Now quite forget-
ting what was behind, she pressed forward to what

LADY FALKLAND. 1)9

was before, and, as if she had done nothing yet, she
began anew. And though the greatest part of her
Christian work was locked up close within herself,
and some of it very studiously and industriously con-
cealed by her, (that she might be sure no degree of
vain glory should creep upon her with it,) yet, much
of it appeared by the effects, and is now forced to
come abroad before us.

Her first and grand employment was, to read and
understand, and then (to the utmost of her strength)
to practise, our most blessed Saviour's Sermon upon
the Mount, in the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters'
of St. Matthew's gospel; and having read over a most
complete, though compendious. Comment upon that
Sermon, she set forthwith upon the work of practis-
ing it, and began with those virtues to which the
beatitudes are annexed.

And her mercifulness was none of those virtues
which she could at all conceal from us. Much of
her estate we saw given yearly to those of her kin-
dred, which were capable of charity from her ; and
some of her near neighbours, who were very old, and
not able to work, or very young, and not fit for work,
were wholly maintained by her. To other poor chil-
dren she contributed much, both for their spiritual
and their temporal well-being, by erecting a school
for them, where they were to be taught both to read
and to work. Much care she took, that no man, or
woman, or child, should want employment, that their
own hands might bring them in a competent subsist-
ence ; and she accounted that the best contrivement
of her estate, which set most poor people on work ;
for if it were to their profit, she little regarded her'
own detriment in it. A most eminent piece of mer-
cifulness this, where temporal and spiritual mercy
went together, and wisdom guided both.

And for the poor at home, and for strangers at the
door, she was very charitable in feeding the hungry,.
in refreshing the faint and weak, and in clothing the*

M MEMOIRS OF

naked. In some extremities, you should see this
lady herself go up and down the house, and beg
garments from her servants' backs, (whom she re-
quited soon after with new,) that the poor might not
go naked or cold from her door : so that she was not
only a liberal almoner to the poor, but also an earnest
solicitor for them. And when it was objected, that
many idle and wicked people were by this course of
charity relieved at her house, her answer was : " I
*' know not their hearts, and in their outward car-
*' riage and speech they all appear to me good and
" virtuous ; and I would rather relieve five unworthy
" vagrants, than that one member of Christ should
" go empty away." And for harbouring strangers, the
many inconveniences ordinarily ensuing upon it,
could not deter her from it ; sometimes, for some
weeks together, they were entertained by her. And
since her death, I hear of plentiful relief, here, at
London, and at Oxford, sent privately to prisons, and
needy persons, with a strict charge that it should not
be known from whence it came ; she would not have
her left hand know what her right hand gave.

And this her mercifulness could not be bounded
within the limits of friends; it extended itself to her
enemies too. When there were many of them taken
prisoners by the king's soldiers, and in great need,
she consulted how she might send relief to them ;
and when it was answered, that such an act would
raise jealousies in some, of her loyalty to his majesty,
she replied, ** No man will suspect my loyalty be-
" cause I relieve these prisoners, but would suspect
" my Christianity, if he should see me relieve a needy
*^ Turk, or Jew : however, I had rather be so misun-
*' derstood, if this my secret alms should be known,
*' than that any of mine enemies, the worst of them,
** should perish for want of it." And this one in-
stance and reason of hers, is ground enough to be-
lieve, she failed not to relieve her enemies, as often
as occasion required.

LADY FALKLAND. 21

But, beyond all, her mercifulness towards the sick
was most laudable. Her provision of antidotes against
infection, and of cordials, and several sorts of physic
for such of her neighbours as should need them,
amounted yearly to very considerable sums ; and
though, in distributing such medicinal provisions,
her hand was very open, yet, it was close enough in
applying them : her skill, indeed, was more than or-
dinary, and her wariness too. When any of the poor
neighbours were sick, she had a constant care, that
they should neither want such relief nor such at-
tendance as their weak condition called for ; and, if
need were, she hired nurses to serve them; and her
own frequent visiting of the poorest cottagers, and
her ready service to them on their sick bed, argued
as great humility, as mercifulness in her. Yet, the
books of spiritual exhortations she carried in her hand
to these sick persons, declared a further design she
had therein, of promoting them towards Heaven, by
reading to them, and by administering words of holy
counsel to them. " There is no season more fit,"
she would say, '' for sowing good seed, than this :
*' while the ground of their hearts is softened, and
*' melting with sorrow and sickness." And to gain
this advantage, it was that she was so frequent a vi-
sitor of the sick, going day after day to their bed-side.
This honourable lady hath been observed sitting in a
cottage, v/aiting the sick woman's leisure, till the
slumbers and fits were over, that she might read again
to her, and finish the work she had begun. And of
late, when she could not do this good office in her
own person, (she growing sickly and weak,) yet she
would do it still by proxy ; for some of her friends
or servants were deputed by her to go to the sick,
with her books too, daily; and now and then most
of her family, who were fit for such employment,
were sent abroad on this errand. Thus ordinarily, in
all her works of outward mercy, she added works of
spiritual mercy too ; relieving the wants of the body

22 MEMOIRS OF

and of the soul together, instructing and exhorting,
and earnestly persuading the poor and the sick to
some virtue or other, for their soul's health.
. For meekness, also, she was most eminent. She
was second to none of her sex and age, I believe,
among us, for perspicuity of understanding and clear-
ness of judgment; yet, as far from self-conceit as
from ignorance. Her way, indeed, was, upon debates,
to object till all arguments she could think on to the
contrary were satisfied ; and when that was once
done, no cavil was heard, but her assent readily given.
And this ready submission of her judgment to the
best reasons, I mention, for the meekness of her un-
derstanding : her knowledge did not puff up, but
edify. And her understanding leading the way in
meekness, her will cheerfully followed in it : as soon
as her understanding was satisfied, her will bowed
presently and obeyed. She seldom denied to do,
what she was convinced was fit to be done. The
greater difficulty was with her affections : her natural
temper, she would often complain, inclined her to
anger ; and being so well aware of it, she most dili-
gently observed herself, and did, in a great degree,
conquer that froward inclination ; and that good
measure of meekness, in this kind, which she attained
to, was the more commendable, because of the many
great difficulties she met with in it.

And now, after the exercise of all these virtues in
this high degree, such a poverty of spirit was apparent
in her, as was most admirable ; upon all occasions
bewailing her weaknesses, and lamenting her spiritual
wants. There were some about her who had a holy
emulation to be like her, in these and such Jike
graces and virtues ; and she hath now and then over-
heard them wishing, that they were as forward as
she ; and her constant reply was, ** Oh, ye are not
" so backward ! Yet, wish yourselves better ; ye
" know not how vile and corrupt my heart is." So
tjiat in some respects she accounted herself the

LADY FALKLAND. 23

greatest of sinners. In no respect would she esteem
better of herself, than of the least of saints ; a well-
wisher towards holiness, and a beginner still.

Thus she daily practised those graces and virtues
to which our Saviour annexed such special bless-
ings ; and studied to be still more and more perfect
in them, with as much diligence as the scholar doth
his lesson, and with as much success and good
speed too.-

And from this sermon of our blessed Saviour she
learned that duty of prayer ; and her chief practice
therein she could not conceal from us neither, which
was as follows :

First, she spent some hours every day in her pri-
vate devotions and meditations ; and these were
called, I remember, by those of her family, her busy
hours ; prayers, her business. Martha's employ-
ment was her recreation ; she had spare hours for it :
Mary's was her business. Then her maids came
into her chamber early every morning, and ordinarily
she passed about an hour with them, in praying,
and catechising, and instructing them. To these
secret and private prayers, the public morning and
evening pra^^ers of the Church, before dinner and
supper, and another form, (together with reading
scriptures, and singing psalms,) before bed-time,
were daily and constantly added. And so strict
was she for the observing of these several hours
of prayer, that a charge was given her servants
to be frequent, if their occasions permitted, at every
one of them. However, she would not endure that
any one should be absent from them all : if she
observed any such, she presently sent for them into
her chamber, and consecrated another hour of prayer
there, purposely for them. And she would pray
with those servants privately ere she went to bed,
who had not prayed publicly with her that day.

To pray, with David, seven times a day, or, with
Daniel, three times, is expected perhaps only from

24 MEMOIRS OF

such persons as have leisure and opportunity : but,
with Levi, to offer up morning and evening sacrifice
every day, this she required from the busiest servant
in the house, that at the outgoings of the morning
and evening, every one should praise God and call
upon his name.

Neither were these holy offices confined to her
menial servants : others came freely to join with
them, and her oratory was as open to her neighbours
as her hall was.

On the Lord's-day, she rose in the morning earlier
than ordinarily ; yet, enjoined herself so much private
duty with her children and servants, examining
them in the sermons and catechisings, &c. and with
her own soul, that oftentimes the day was too short
for her ; and then I have known her rise two or
three hours before day on the Monday, to supply
what was left undone the day before. To dispose
herself the better for the religious keeping of the
Lord's-day, as well for other spiritual ends, I pre-
sume it was, that she so solemnly fasted every
Saturday : that day she sequestered herself from
company, and from worldly employment, and came
seldom out of her closet till towards evening, and
then the chaplain must double the sacrifice ; prayers
she had and catechising both.

And her care to prepare herself for the receiving
of the holy Sacrament of our most blessed Lord's
Supper, was most commendable and most punctual.
Oftentimes, scruples and fears arose in her, tending
to keep her back from that heavenly banquet; and
she having, upon examination of them, reason
enough, as we thought, to conclude that they were
temptations from the devil, whom she perceived
labouring amain to deprive her of that strength and
comfort which she hoped to receive from that sacred
ordinance, neglected them all, and presented herself
with an humble and trembling heart, at that blessed
Sacrament. And these fears and scruples in her

LADY FALKLAND. 25

occasioned this peremptory resolution from her,
that she would not, by God's help, thenceforth
omit any opportunity of communicating.

At home, her servants were all moved to accom-
pany her to the Sacrament ; and they who were
prevailed with, gave up their names to her two or
three days before ; and from thence she applied
herself to the instructing of them ; and she knew
well how to administer to every one their particular
portion ; and several exhortations she had for several
persons whom she had power over. Yet, she trusted
not in her own instructions of them, but desired the
chaplain's help also to examine them, and to in-
struct them further. And her care was, so to order
her domestic affairs, that all those servants who
were to receive the Sacrament, should have the day
before it free from their ordinary work, that they
might have better leisure for that spiritual work of
preparing themselves for that Sacrament. And
after the holy Sacrament, she called them together
again, and gave them such exhortations as were
proper for them.

Yet, while she was thus religiously and piously
employed in this good proficiency and far progress,
going on from grace to grace, from virtue to virtue,
God had a further design upon her, another affliction
to quicken her yet more. Her young and most dear
son, Lorenzo, whom God had endowed with the
choicest of natural abilities, and to whom her affec-
tions were most tender, by reason of those fair
blossoms of piety she perceived in him, God takes
away from her. This, added to her former troubles
of the loss of her husband, of her crosses in the
world, and of her spiritual affliction, which came
often upon her, made the burden most heavy. She
was bruised with afflictions before, but now, she
fears being ground to powder. Now she weeps and
mourns all the day long, and at night also waters
her couch with tears ; and weeping, saith, " AH !

VOL. II. c

26 MEMOIRS OF

" this immoderate sorrow must be repented of,
" these tears wept over again." And this quick
sense of displeasing God, by this deep grief, soon
allayed the vehemency of it. And now she retires
herself to listen what the Lord God said unto her,
in this louder call of affliction ; and she seems to
think that she was not yet weaned enough from the
things of this world, and that it is expedient for her,
that some of those worldly comforts she most de-
lighted in, should be taken away from her, that
her conversation may be yet more spiritual and
heavenly; and therefore this affliction seemed to
call her to a greater mortification to the world,
and to a nearer conformity to Christ her Lord.
Yet, fearing that still her sorrow for her son was
somewhat excessive, she again consulted her chap-
lain, and acquainted him with the violence of those
fits of sorrow which of late had seized upon her, for
the death of her son ; and he with his medicinal
counsel and direction, by God's help, cured this her
distemper ; and antidotes he prescribed too, to pre-
vent a relapse into this malady of excessive grief.
Now she confessed that this very affliction was
most fit for her, and that it would prove most bene-
ficial to her ; and returning home with perfect cheer-
fulness, every one there observed a most notable
though sudden change in her. Sad Hannah's coun-
tenance and conversation not more visibly changed
upon the good words of Eli the prophet to her, con-
cerning the Samuel she should obtain, than hers now
is, after the loss of one. And with this extraor-
dinary cheerfulness, she took up a most firm reso-
lution of a further progress in holiness and piety,
and addressed herself to run these latter stages of
her Christian race with greater speed than she had
shewed in any of the former. But the devil, who
before envied her beginning, and her proficiency
much more, is now most violent to hinder her per-
fection; and therefore, upon this her renewed pur-

LADY FALKLAND. 27

pose of more exact obedience, presently assaults
her with fierceness and rage, strongly tempting her
to think that she had deceived herself all this while,
and that she had mocked God with a counterfeit re-
pentance, which was no way acceptable to him.
And an argument was brought to this purpose,
which was so fully suitable to the tenderness of her
own spirit, that it is hard to say whence it pro-
ceeded. And this it was : ** My grief for my sins
*' hath not been so vehement, as that, the other day,
'* for the death of my son ; I wept not so bitterly
" for them, as I did for that ; and therefore, that my
** repentance is not acceptable.^' And in this
anguish of spirit, she hastens to her learned friend
again, and begs counsel and direction from" him;
and after devout prayers and holy conferences,
received full comfort and thorough satisfaction, and
returns home now as visibly lifted up from the
deep pit of anguish and disquiet of spirit, as she
was the other day, from the valley of sorrow ; and
with tranquillity of mind, and joy of heart, shews to
her friends, both how she sunk, and how she was
raised again.

And now having, by the help of her God, over-
come this difficulty, with much cheerfulness of spirit
she enters upon the practice of what she had last
resolved on. This opposition, though it staid her a
while, yet, set an edge upon her resolution, and she
soon recovered that whetting time. And she begins,
by a most sharp mortification, to obey the call of
her last affliction.

The vanity of apparel and dress, she had cut off
long before ; and after her husband's death, the
richness of them too. What she spared in these,
she bestowed upon the poor members of Christ ; and
now she begins to cut off all worldly pomp also. In
her house, in her retinue, and at her table, and
otherwise, she denies herself that state which her
quality might have excused, that, like Dorcas, the

c2

28 MEMOIRS OF

widow, she might be full of good works ; and more
delight she takes to see her revenues now spent
among a crowd of alms-men and women at her door,
than by a throng of servants in her house. It was
a greater joy to her, that she could maintain poor
children at their books and their work, than to
have pages and gentlewomen for her attendants :
these expenses, she knew would be better allowed,
in her bill of accounts at the general audit, than
those other. It was her pomp and joy to mortify
all useless pomp of state, and all delight in courtly
vanities.

And now her anger too, which was crushed before,
must be wholly subdued ; and to that purpose she
solicitously avoids all inquiries and all discourse
which she feared would provoke her to immoderate
anger; and when she feels it struggling to arise in
her, then presently, either by silence or by diverting
to another matter, she labours to stifle it.

And while she is suppressing the sinfulness of this
passion, she undertakes also that most difficult task
of taming the tongue ; and, as it is necessary with
unruly beasts, she begins roughly with it, ties it
up with a most strong resolution, and scarce suffers
it to speak, lest she should offend with her tongue.
Thus, for some while, it was straitened, and then
she loosed it a little with these two cautions.

First, that it should never speak evil of any man,
tliough truly, but only upon a design of charity, to
reclaim him from that evil. And because it is not
ordinary to reclaim any vicious person in his ab-
sence, therefore, her charge is peremptory to her
tongue, that it never should speak evil of any man,
were he most notoriously vicious, if he were absent,
and not like to be amended by it. A strict rule
this ; yet, verily, I persuade myself, that for a
long time before her death she most punctually ob-
served it.

The second caution her tongue had, was, that, as

LADY FALKLAND. 29

much as was possible, it should keep in every idle
word, and speak out only that which was to edifica-
tion. The Thessalonians were famous for speaking
to the edification one of another; (I Thess. v. 11.)
and this Thessalonian language our good lady stu-
died with as much diligence and earnestness, as we
ordinarily study a deep science, or a gainful mys-
tery. And now she is very slow to speak, as the
apostle exhorts ; and, where she cannot rule the
discourse to edification, she sits silent, and refrains
even from good words, though it be pain and grief
to her. And of late she distinguished between civil
and spiritual edification, and scarcely allowed her-
self discourses for civil edification of her friends or
neighbours in worldly matters : spiritual edification
in heavenly things was all her aim. And her care
was the same in writing as in speaking ; not a vain,
not an idle word must slip from her pen. She
thought not her soul clean, if there were such a blot
in her paper. In her letters, no savour of compli-
ment at all; and she judged herself guilty of a tres-
pass if she subscribed herself, Your servant, to
whom she was not really so.

And for that other temperance in diet, as well as
in speech, she was very eminent. A small quantity
of meat or drink, and of sleep and ease, sufficed
her.

She was most respectful to her superiors, and most
courteous and affable towards inferiors ; and very
cautious lest she should give offence to one or other,
either in word or gesture ; and as cautious too, lest
any of them should take offence at any speech, or
look of hers, towards them ; *' for either way," said
she, " in offences given or taken, God is offended."
And her humility in begging forgiveness from others
was ^ost singular: of late, your ladyship knows,
she seldom slept till she had asked forgiveness, as
well as blessing, from you : if she had offended you.

30 MEMOIRS OF

she thought your pardon necessary ; if not, it was
no cumbrance to have supernumerary pardons from
you lying by her. But to see this honourable lady
begging forgiveness from her inferiors and servants,
as she often did, if she had been angry with them,
was that which put us all to shame and astonish-
ment.

More than once or twice of late, she brought her
gift to the altar, was in her closet upon her knees
towards prayer, and there she remembered that her
brother might possibly have somewhat against her,
for such a word, or such a look, or a neglective
silence a little before ; and she left her gift at the
altar, and went, and was reconciled ; asked pardon,
and then came and offered. So that her chief care
was still to lift up in prayer pure hands, without
wrath. If there were any wrath in her against others,
or any in others against her, she would have it al-
layed before she offered her gift of prayer.

And though all these graces and virtues, by God's
help, did thus increase in her, yet, a true poverty of
spirit increased also in her. The more holy, the
more pious she was, the more humbly she walked
with God : in her greatest abundance, she com-
plained most of spiritual wants. Sure the bright
lustre of her virtue gave her an advantage to espy
many corruptions in herself which she could not
before ; and these she lamented more sadly now
than heretofore.

And now, in the very last stage of her Christian
race, she grew so exact, that all time seemed tedious
to her, which tended not to Heaven. She now re-
solved to get loose from the multitude of her worldly
employments, and provided to remove from her
stately mansion, to a little house near adjoining ;
and in that house and garden, with a book, and a
wheel, and a maid or two, to retire herself from
worldly business and unnecessary visits, and so

LADY FALKLAND. 31

spend her whole time. And she took as great de-
light in projecting this humiliation and privacy, as
others do in being advanced to public honours and
state employments.

But now, as she approached the end of her race,
the devil brought his strongest batteries and laboured
to take this castle by storm ; temptations again she
had, and those vehement and fierce, to suspect her
whole course of life, as so full of weakness at best,
and oftentimes so full of gross corruptions ; her
faith so weak, her repentance so faint, that God
would not accept of her ; but her shield of faith in
Christ's merits soon repelled these darts, and her
wonted sanctuary of prayer secured her presently
from this storm of temptation.

And in peace and tranquillity of mind, her piety
and zeal of justice hurry her to London, in the bit-
terest season of this winter, to take order for the
discharge of some engagements: this she knew was
her duty; and that she herself should take that
journey, was conceived the necessary means to per-
form that duty, and therefore she ventures upon it,
and leaves the success to God. But alas! madam,
though her inward strength increases, her outward
strength decays, and her weak consumptive body,
by a cold there taken, grows weaker. Yet, thence
she came homeward ; and at Oxford her cough and
cold very much increasing, she with most earnest
prayers and holy meditations, which a pious and
learned divine suggested to her, prepared herself
for death.

After a while, they who were about her fearing
the pangs of death to be upon her, began to weep
and lament; the whole company grew sad and heavy ;
she only continued in her former condition, not at
all sorrowful, nor affrighted by these messengers of
death. Then, the physician coming, and, upon con-
sideration, saying, ** Here is no sign of death, nor

32 MEMOIRS OE"

" of much danger ; by God's help she may recover
*' again/' — the whole company was very much com-
forted, and cheered, she only in her former indif-
ferency ; no alteration at all could be perceived in
her, as if she had been the only party in the cham-
ber unconcerned in it. Neither fear of death could
grieve nor trouble her, nor hopes of life and health
rejoice her: " I have wholly resigned up myself to
" God," said she, ** and not mine, but his will be
" done, whether in life or death." She was not
afraid to live, and still endure the miseries of this
life, and ever and anon encounter with Satan too,
because she had a powerful God able to uphold her;
nor yet afraid to die, and appear at God's judgment-
seat, because she had a merciful Redeemer, willing
to save her.

They who write of perfection, account it a high
degree, to have Vitam in patientia et mortem in votOy
To be content to live, but desirous to die : yet surely,
this here. In cEquilibrio ad vitam, et ad mortem, To be
wholly indifferent, and to be most equally inclined
to either, to desire nothing, to fear nothing, but
wholly to resign ourselves to God, accounting that
to be the best, whatsoever it is, which he pleases ta
send ; this, this is to be strong in Christ. And this-
in our most pious lady was a very near approach unto
perfection.

It was related for a very great virtue in St. Cy-
prian, that Maluit obsequi prcEceptis Christi, quam vel
sic coronari, He had rather live and obey God, than
die and reign in glory. But this, to have no pro-
pension at all more to one than to the other, to be
wholly indifferent, to work on still in God's vine-
yard, or to be called up to Heaven, to receive pay,
this may be a greater virtue. And this perfect
indifference to do or suffer God's will, in life or
death, appearing in this servant of God, was such
an act of self-denial, which they who observed it

LADY FALKLAND. 33

in her, could not but set a special character upon,
most worthy to be commended to your lady-
ship.

Ihus she was brought from Oxford home. And
now, being far spent and near her end, she could
speak little, yet expressed a great deal of thankful-
ness to God, who had brought her safe to die in her
own house, among her dearest friends. And there
she shewed those friends a rare pattern of patience
in the extremity of her sickness.

But the tranquillity of mind which she had in
these her last days, was most observable ; that
the devil, who had so often perplexed her with vio-
lent temptations, should now leave her to rest and
ease. She was wont to fear his most violent assaults
on her death-bed, as his practice commonly is. But
now, God, it seems, had chained him up, and en-
abled her by his grace to tread Satan under her
feet. Not a word of complaint, nor the least dis-
turbance or disquiet, to be perceived by her ; which
is a sufficient argument to us, who knew how open
a breast she had to reveal any thing in that kind,
especially to divines, whereof she had now store
about her, of her exceeding great quietness and
peace. And this tranquillity of mind more clearly
now appearing at her death, than ordinarily in the
time of her health, is a great evidence to me, of
God's most tender mercy and love towards her,
and of some good assurance in her, of her salva-
tion.

This quiet gave her leave, though now very faint
and weak, to be most vigorous, and most instant in
prayers. She called for other help very faintly, but
for prayers, most heartily and often, in those few
hours she lived at home ; and after the office of the
morning was performed, she gave strict charge, that
every one of her family, who could be spared from
her, should go to church and pray for her. And

c 5

34 MEMOIRS OF

then, in a word of exhortation to them who stayed
by her, saying, ** Fear God, fear God," she most
sweetly spent her breath ; and so most comfortably
yielded up her spirit to him who made it ; and was,
we doubt not, admitted into heaven, into the num-
ber of saints of God, there to reign in the glory of
God for evermore.

Your servant in Christ Jesus,

April 15, 1647.

I.D.

LADY HALKET. 35

LADY HALKET.

Anna Murray was born in London the 4th of
January 1622. Her father, Mr. Robert Murray,
was descended from the Earl of TuUibardine's fa-
mily ; her mother, Jane Drummond, from the Earl
of Perth's ; two ancient and honourable families in
Scotland. Mr. Robert Murray was a gentleman so
well:accomplished, that King James VL made choice
of him to be preceptor to his second son, afterwards
King Charles L King Charles made him provost
of Eton College; a place which he enjoyed only a
short time, being soon removed by death.

Mr. and Mrs. Murray had by marriage two sons
and two daughters, on whom every pains was taken,
to render them qualified for the highest places of
trust in the nation, and the society of the most ac-
complished persons. But, while her daughters were
taught French, music, dancing, and all kinds of
needle-work, Mrs. Murray did not, like too many
mothers, neglect matters of greater importance.
Her chief care was to instruct them in the principles
and practice of religion, teaching them to begin and
end every day with prayer, and reading a portion of
Scripture in order, and duly to attend the church,
backing all her instructions with her own pious
example.

Anna, the subject of this Memoir, early discovered
a ready disposition to receive instructions, and extra-
ordinary sagacity and seriousness of temper. When
she became old enough to walk alone, and play with
other children, she did not follow the ill example
she saw among some of them, but did then shew an
abhorrence of evil ; for which afterwards she blessed
God.

If at any time she was crossed by the woman that

36 MEMOIRS OF

attended her, and began to cry, if the Bible was
given her to read, she became instantly quiet. This
she calls an early presage of the comfort and repose
which her soul found in her after-troubles by medi-
tating on the blessed word.

If her mother went abroad, where she was desirous
to go with her, she never cried when not allowed to
go, but quietly contented herself, by considering,
that if she had been permitted, she might have said or
done something or other, for which she might be chid
at her return ; thinking with herself, that if she
wanted the pleasure she desired, she was free also of
the trouble she feared. She so used herself to this
way of pondering things, that what she most earnestly
desired became indifferent to her ; and she observed,
that she more readily obtained her desire in any
thing about which she was thus indifferent, than in ,
what she was most eager upon. She was most exac^
in her obedience to her mother, so that she could n^-t
remember that she had made one visit to the nearest
neighbour, or gone any where abroad, without ner
allowance.

She afterwards, reflecting on such like passa^ es of
her childhood, says : " By these I find how early
" thou, O Lord ! didst prevent me by sowing the
*' seeds of grace in my heart; though, alas ! it hath
** since been overgrown by the corruption of my
*' nature : O my God, weed it up, that the seed thou
^' hast sown may fructify and increase, to bring glory
*' to thee, and joy to myself, and profit to others."

Nor was feebleness of frame the occasion of such
a sedate and serious turn ; for the God of providence
had endued her with a comely, well-proportioned,
healthful, and sprightly body ; a solid, quick, and
penetrating judgment ; an ingenious and lively fancy ;
a faithful and tenacious memory ; lively and regular
affections : which good temperature of body and
mind made her capable of the most excellent improve-
ments : and neither her own care and diligence.

LADY HALKET. 37

nor the Divine grace, which always assists human
industry, were wanting to her attaining them.

She began the second period of her life, her youth,
with a personal dedication of herself to God, renew-
ing and confirming her baptismal vows. This she
frequently reiterated, but more solemnly every year,
on her birth-day, performing it usually in this
manner: 1. By a diligent review of her former life.
2. A penitent confession of her sins. 3. A thankful
acknowledgment of received mercies. 4. Sincere
purposes and resolutions of living more exactly.
And finally, earnestly imploring the Divine mercy
and grace. As the devoted servant of God, she
applied herself to know his will : the reading of the
Scriptures had been her enjoined task in her child-
hood, but now it became her choice and-f^elight.
She went completely through these sacred oracles
once every year, in the regular course of reading
them, besides her frequent occasional converse with
them. Not contenting herself with the letter, she
endeavoured, by frequent and serious meditation,
to find and feel the spirit and life, the transforming
and renewing virtue of that quickening word. In
this exercise, she seems to have been a great pro-
ficient, her meditations (whereof she left many
volumes) being full of elevated thoughts, and lively
spiritual affections.

From the example of a devout lady, she began,
when young, to observe stated days of fasting ; and
as she became better acquainted with this duty, she
found it a great help to prayer and humiliation, and
felt by it much inward refreshment.

She usually did partake of the Lord's Supper four
times in the year; on which occasions especially,
she was very exact in taking a more particular review
of her life, endeavouring by serious repentance to
have her past sins cancelled, and by new bonds and
resolutions, to have her soul fortified against after-
temptations. But this great and useful duty of self-

S§ MEMOIRS OF

examininof was not reserved onlv for these solemn
occasions ; she very wisely kept short accounts, by
frequent casting them up ; and it was of great advan-
tage to her in this performance, that from her younger
years she had kept a register of the most remarkable
occurrences of her life, especially her failings, mer-
cies, and resolutions. She was also careful to make
observations of the various and most remarkable
dispensations of Providence to herself or others; of
the customs and conduct of the world, and of the
temptations and trials incident to every state of life ;
and from these she drew such just inferences, formed
such wise resolutions, and imprinted on herself such
excellent maxims and rules, as served very much to
fortify her mind, and direct her conduct through
the va^.ous accidents of her life, both prosperous
and adverse.

Her charitable disposition made her from her
younger years apply herself to the study of physic,
and to prepare such medicines and drugs as might
be helpful in common and ordinary diseases, and
proper for hurts, bruises, and sores. In this she
became very famous and helpful to many, both poor
and rich, though it was chiefly with respect to the
poor that she undertook that practice.

And now what can be expected, but that such rare
accomplishments of body and mind should attract
the eyes and hearts of all, to love and honour her?
And, indeed, the world was so just as to observe and
highly commend her virtue ; and as yet, calumny
and malice had not the confidence to throw the least
blot upon the good character which she universally
obtained. But how little reason is there to glory
in the brightest accomplishments, or to become vain
of the most renowned fame, or secure in the confi-
dence of the greatest virtues ! Eminent virtues are
ordinarily designed for eminent trials ; and the best
fortified minds have enough to do with all their
forces, when assaulted with the vanities and allure-

LADY HALKET.

ments, or with the difficulties and misfortunes, and
the various trials and temptations, which surround
them in this state of probation. This excellent lady
had scarce well appeared on the stage of the world,
in a public place and critical age, when she found
exercise enough for her virtue, and almost all sorts
of trials, to prove the constancy of her mind ; being
tossed, as it were, between waves, and pursued with
a constant series of difficulties and incumbrances
for the space of fourteen years, both in England and
Holland, till at length, though once shipwrecked and
bereaved of all comforts, (except her virtue and inte-
grity,) she arrived at some settled state.

There were several proposals of marriage made,
which came all to no effect : in those she met either
with levity and inconstancy, or with disagreeableness
of temper, or else with opposition of parents. The
former gave her no disquiet, for whoever were un-
worthy of her love, were also unworthy of her con-
cern ; but the last gave her some trouble, for, as she
was unalterably resolved never to marry any without
consent of parents, counting it the highest act of
ingratitude and disobedience in children, so, she
could not submit to have a husband imposed upon
her, judging that union very uncomfortable and
insecure which was not knit by free, unforced, and
real affection. This occasioned to her for some time
the displeasure of her mother, which was very uneasy
to her ; but, by her patience and dutiful behaviour,
proved at length a mean to increase and confirm her
interest in her mother's affection ; who dying, left
her 2000/. on a bond of the Earl of Kinnoull, as a
mark of her tender regard, and in return for all the
attention to her in sickness, and administering to
her bodily and spiritual necessities.

After her mother's death, considering that now
she wanted an eye which used to be watchful over
her, she resolved to walk more circumspectly ; and
not trusting her own resolutions, she very devoutly,

40 MEMOIRS OF

m the language of a child and an heir of heaven,
gave up herself to the conduct and guidance of God,
in a style which breathed a spirit of acquiescence in
Divine Providence : " Blessed God, as thou hast
** hitherto directed me, be thou still, I humbly pray
** thee, a guide to my youth ; and though there be
•* none now on earth to whom I can address myself
'* with that confidence as I did formerly to my
'' mother, yet, thou art pleased to give me leave to
** call thee Father ; and to thy throne of grace will
'* I direct my supplications. Hear me, 1 beseech
" thee, and grant my requests : be pleased to give
*' me the will and power to love and fear thee as
*' 1 ought: give me modesty and temperance in all
" my words and actions, that wherever I live, or
" whatever I do, I may not give occasion to others
** to judge uncharitably, or bring a reproach upon
** myself: that I may, as much as possible, live
*' peaceably with all, without quarrel or dissension :
*' that if it be thy pleasure to continue me in
*' this single life, I may so live as that I may be a
*' good example to others ; but if thou pleasest to
*' have me change my condition, then I beseech thee
*' direct me to such a husband as may ' improve my
*' faith, my love, and fear of thee.' I desire nothing
" in this particular but the fulfilling of thy will, and
" that I may shew myself obedient to thy law, which
*' thou hast commanded. Many are the troubles of
** thy servants, but thou deliverest them out of them
** all; therefore on thee will I put my assurance. O
** leave me not to myself, but whatsoever ill I see in
*^ others, give me grace to avoid, and what 1 see
^* good, to imitate ; so shall I walk uprightly all my
*' days, and when death comes, shall sleep securely
'* in the grave." She had also this pious ejaculation :
" My God, thou hast from all eternity decreed the
*' event of all things, and nothing can change or
*' resist thy will : direct me in that way which is
** most pleasing unto thee, and let it ever be so to

LADY HALKET. 41

*' me. Give me, I beseech thee, patience, tempe-
" ranee, and discretion, which may prove fences to
^' a virtuous and godly Hfe."

Miss Anna Murray was invited by her eldest
brother and his lady to live with them, where she
staid about a year ; and from that time she begins
the date of her greatest afflictions : for, though
she had many serious reflections on what she
might sufler, if not circumspect, and had thereupon
formed resolutions to avoid all converse that might
be prejudicial to her in any respect, yet, she found
at last the unsteadfastness of her own resolutions,
and what snares may be in that way wherein none
are feared.

After a great variety of personal and relative
trials. Miss Murray received the addresses of Sir
James Halket, who came to London with a design to
accomplish his marriage. But first she set a day
apart, solemnly, by fasting and prayer, to beg God's
direction in an affair of so great importance, perform-
ing this devotion with an entire resignation of herself
to God, and a firm resolution to be content, however
it pleased him to dispose of her ; begging, that he
would make her ways plain, and her paths righteous,
in his sight. After this, with a more free and cheerful
mind, she followed the conduct of Divine Providence ;
and upon the Lord's-day, March 2, 1656, she was
married to Sir James, in her brother Newton's closet,
by Mr. Gaile, chaplain to the Countess of Devonshire,
whom they had brought from London to Charlton
for that end. After a few days, they set out for
Scotland.

There could be none happier than she was in a
wise and affectionate husband ; for whom, the longer
she knew him, she had the greater reason to bless
God : and what he had proposed to himself, he
found, and enjoyed greater satisfaction and content
in her virtue and piety, than all worldly advantages
could have afforded. There was an entire union of

42 MEMOIRS OF

heart, and harmony of temper, and a tender sympathy,
a prudent and affectionate bearing with and correct-
ing of one another's infirmities. If he was at any
time out of humour, or inclined to melancholy by
any cross accident, she had an excellent dexterity to
dispel the cloud and cheer him up : and if warmth
of temper (which was her greatest foible) did at any
time transport her to do any thing unbecoming her
duty towards him, he by meekness of wisdom gently
allayed it. That which was the firm bond of their
concord and mutual comfort, was a sincere, rehgious
disposition, which they cherished and increased in
one another.

Before the birth of her first child, being appre-
hensive that she might die in child-bed, she wrote
that which she calls, " The Mother's Will to the
" Unborn Child ;" containing excellent instructions.
She solemnly devoted to God every child at its birth ;
and after her recovery, her first work was to record
the mercy of God, with thankful acknowledgments ;
on which occasions we have very proper meditations,
upon Psalm Ivi. 12, 13. and on Psalm xxxiv. 1, 2, 3, 4.

Though her married state was the only period of
her life in which she enjoyed some worldly comforts,
yet, she found it intermixed with many troubles,
which kept her virtues in constant exercise, and pre-
served her soul from being corrupted with earthly
delights. Through the whole course of her life, she
found Solomon's observation verified, Eccl. vii. 14.
that God sets prosperity and adversity the one over
against the other. And in innumerable instances,
she observes, that she never received any comfort or
blessing without some ingredient of trouble, either
with it, or soon after it, to keep her humble ; nor
any cross dispensation which was not accompanied
with some alleviating circumstances to support her.

The death of all her children save one, and of her
nephew Mr. Newton, a very hopeful youth, the only
son of Sir Henry and her sister, who died at Not-

LADY HALKET. 43

tingham in their return from expressing their kind-
ness to her, were sad strokes, besides many other
afflictions, and great trials of her patience and sub-
mission. Her devout temper was discovered in the
pious and pertinent meditations and reflections which
she penned on these sad occasions.

But the saddest and heaviest of all shortly followed ;
for Sir James fell into a languishing distemper, from
which, though the physicians apprehended no danger,
yet he did not expect to recover ; and having some
time before ordered his affairs, securing his lady in
her jointure, and her son Robert in a considerable
patrimony, he applied himself wholly to prepare for
death, which he encountered with great composure
of mind and Christian courage. Upon the 24th of
September, 1670, he gently breathed out his soul to
God who gave it ; his two eldest sons being then in
France. His character as a Christian, a gentleman,
and the chief of that name in Scotland, were such as
to secure the esteem of all who knew him.

His sorrowful lady had performed all the offices of
a dutiful wife, in her constant care and attendance ;
he being ever best pleased with what she did unto
him ; and though she was of a tender and weak con-
stitution, she was wonderfully assisted to endure the
greatest fatigue. The first time she went to bed
after her husband's death, she awakened out of sleep
with these words in her mouth, " A widow indeed ]"
Which made such an impression upon her, that she
could not be satisfied till she had found the place
where they are written, (1 Tim. v. 3, 5.) She fixed
her thoughts on the characters there given of a
widow indeed, resolving to make them her example.
Finding that one among them is, to wash the saints'
feet, and seeing neither the climate nor custom of the
country required the literal performance of that duty,
she resolved to obey it, by being ready and willing to
do the meanest offices that may be in any way helpful

44 Memoirs of

to such ; and seeing that the best, through infirmity
and the corruption of the world> are subject to sully-
ings, she would wipe them off as much as she could.

She applied herself to look over the promises
which are made to the widow and fatherless, that
they might be her support ; as also to search what
were the peculiar duties required of one in her cir-
cumstances, as a Christian, as a widow, and as a
mother. As a Christian, she resolved to learn that
first lesson, to be meek and lowly in heart, and set
always before her for her study and practice, that
comprehensive rule of Christianity, Phil. iv. 8. As
a mother, she pitched on the example of Lois and
Eunice, 2 Tim. i. 5. and Chron. iii. 14. and from
Prov. xii. 6, 9, 15, &c. She found her work chiefly
lay in instruction, correction, and example. As a
widow, she fixed on that fore-mentioned passage,
1 Tim. V. 2, 5, 10. for her rule, and chose Anna for
her example; of whom it is recorded, Luke, xi. 26,
27. '' That she departed not from the temple, but
*' served God with fasting and prayers night and
" day." She considered with herself, that God was
pleased in a peculiar manner to shew his regard and
compassion to the sad and solitary condition of
widows, making it a principal part of pure religion
to visit the fatherless and widows in their afiliction :
she thought, therefore, that in gratitude they ought
to be singular in their devotion to God, and in zeal
for his honour and glory.

She had marked from De Sales, in his instructions
to widows, "" That to love the husband, being ahve,
" is ordinary among women, but to love him so well
" after his death as to hear of no other, is a love that
*' appertaineth to true widows ; that the virtues
*' proper to holy widows are, perfect modest}^ re-
*' nouncing all honours and precedency in meetings,
" titles, and all sorts of vanities ; serving the poor
*' and sick, comforting the afflicted, instructing

LADY HALKET. 45

<t

young maids in devotion, and making themselves
" a pattern of all virtue to young women ; that clean-
" liness and plainness should be the ornaments of
" their apparel, humility and charity the two orna-
*' ments of their actions, sincerity and mildness the
'* two ornaments of their eyes, and Jesus Christ
" crucified, the only love of their hearts." Since
God was pleased to bring her to the state of widow-
hood, she firmly resolved to continue in it all her
life, and earnestly begged grace and assistance from
God to confirm her in this resolution.

She set apart every Saturday (being the day of
her husband's death) for a day of retirement and
devotion, and to be employed in examining and
reviewing the past week, in acts of charity and
mercy, and particularly in preparing herself for death.
She solemnly engaged herself in these following
resolutions : That, with God's assistance, she would
spend the remainder of her days as much as she
could like a widow indeed : That she would be a
careful and affectionate mother to her child, and
ever respectful to all the relations of her dear hus-
band : That, if the Lord would bless her, so as peace-
ably to enjoy what was left her by her husband, or
if ever she recovered her patrimony, she would thus
dispose of it ; the tenth of all should be laid by for
charitable uses, and the other nine parts should be
(as proportionably as she could) divided for necessary
uses, paying her debts, and increasing her son's
patrimony. And for advancing her son in all virtue
and goodness, she applied herself to draw up instruc-
tions which might be of use to him, not only in his
younger years, but for the right conduct of his
whole life.

Her son having ended his course at the University,
returned safely, with a good testimony from his
r«^ent, for which she thankfully acknowledged God's
mercy. And being informed that the church of St.
Leonard wanted a communion-cup, she caused one

46 MEMOIRS OF

to be made of very good workmanship, weighing 31
ounces 14 drachms, and it was sent to Dr. Skeene,
then provost of the Old College, who had been her
son's regent.

She was very much concerned that her son might
not pass his time unprofitably. She sent him for
some time to Edinburgh to be acquainted with the
forms of law, and then to Leyden to study the law.
But being there seized with an ague, he was obliged
to return ; and in a short time she found his mind
wholly alienated from study, and inclined to the
military profession ; and finding that nothing would
divert him from it, she was at length forced to yield,
and allow him to follow his genius. He soon received
a captain's commission in D's regiment. She parted
with him, recommending him to the Divine grace
and protection, enjoining him, with all earnest affec-
tion, to remember the instructions she had given
him, and to live answerably to them ; that he would
guard against the snares and temptations which that
course of life exposed him to ; of which she was
much more apprehensive than of any bodily dangers
he might incur. She knew there had been, and still
were, some devout soldiers, and wished he might
make them his patterns.

In the year 1683, her difficulties were so pressing,
that she resolved to break up her house, and retire
to England, where she proposed to live upon what
hitherto she had practised in charity ; hoping,
through God's blessing, to make as much at rich
folks' hands, as might not only be subsistence to
herself, but also enable her in some measure to con-
tinue her charitably serving the poor, and in the
meantime let her jointure go to pay off debts. In
the multitude of these her thoughts, she made
frequent and fervent application to God for counsel
and direction, and his comforts did delight her soul.
She was as much revived by that passage, Psalm
xxxvii. 3, " Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt

LADY HALKET. 47

*' thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be
'* fed ;" as if, by an audible voice, it had been parti-
cularly directed to her from heaven. She believed,
and found an accomplishment ; for it pleased God to
open her a way she never dreamed of, by which she
was in a short time much eased of her incumbrances ;
which was, that many persons of quality, and others,
sent their children to her care, partly from respect
to her, and partly for the conveniency of their edu-
cation at school, so that in a short time her family in-
creased : upon v^rhich she reflects on that of Psalm
Ixviii. 6, *' God setteth the solitary in families."
About eighteen months before, she was thinking of
breaking up her family ; and now it was increased
with the heirs and children of eight several families,
all of them motherless, save one, who was fatherless.
She knew it was one part of a widow's office to bring
up children ; and she earnestly prays to be assisted
in a motherly care of them, and in using all proper
methods to excite in them holy desires to become the
children of God, and to behave as such in all their
words and actions.

About the middle of March, 1699, she became
feverish and much troubled with rheum, which she
presently took to be the harbinger of death, and daily
found its approaches in the decay of her strength and'
vital spirits. But while the outward man perished,
the inward man was renewed day by day, the God
of hope filling her with all joy and peace in believing;
for she knew in whom she believed, and was per-
suaded that he was able to keep that which she had
committed to him against that day.

Some days before her death, she felt most sharp
and piercing pains, such as she then thought were
more violent than any she had felt in her whole life,
under which she shewed admirable patience and sub-
mission. After these had vanquished all the remain-
ing forces of nature, and had brought her so low,
that oftentimes life was scarce discernible in her, she

^8 MEMOIRS OF

little more conversed with any but God, and was
seldom heard but in her pious ejaculations, which
were frequently vented with all the effort that her
weak state was capable of. She was duly attended
by the Lady Pitfirren and her daughters ; and on
Saturday, the 22d of April, 1699, between seven and
eight o'clock at night, she finished her warfare, and
entered into the joy of her Lord. The day which for
twenty-nine years preceding she had set apart for
abstinence, meditation, and preparation for death, on
which she wished, if it might so please God, to die,
and about the same time on which she used on these
days to take refreshments to her body, her soul was
called to the heavenly supper, and began its everlast-
ing Sabbath of rest. Her body was, on the 24th,
honourably convoyed and laid in the same grave in
which her husband Sir James had been laid.

She was a person of great knowledge, having
searched for it as for hid treasure, especially in those
inexhaustible mines of the Divine oracles, where the
most excellent knowledge is found. She was so well
acquainted with these sacred books, by long and fre-
quent converse, that she was able readily to urge any
point of faith or duty of Christian practice from the
most pertinent passages. She had digested all her
knowledge into a solid principle of true wisdom, for
regulating her own life and edifying others.

Her piety had nothing of moroseness or affectation,
but was free and ingenuous, as if natural, full of
sweetness and gentleness, which made it amiable and
impressive. Her gravity and seriousness had a grace
and air so taking and agreeable, as begot both re-
verence and love. Her frowns and severest reproofs
were mixed with tenderness, good-will, and kindness.
Though passion was her predominant infirmity, she
had so far overcome it, that it seldom did transport
her : if at any time it did, she severely censured her-
self. Whenever her passion began to arise, she
usually stopped the eruption of it, by reflecting on

LADY HALKET. 49

the parable of the ten thousand talents and hundred
pence. She considered also that the best have their
failings, and the worst may have some good things
in them.

She much delighted in God's house, and the pub-
lic worship, and was a conscientious observer of the
Lord's-day; and had made this remark, that accord-
ing to her frame and temper that day, such was her
disposition the week following.

She was careful that all her family served the
Lord ; and when she wanted a chaplain, performed
the offices of evening and morning worship herself,
enjoining them private devotion ; and to such as
needed, she composed forms of prayer for their use.

She was very moderate in her sentiments about
disputable points, sadly regretting the divisions and
animosities occasioned among Christians by them.
Though she heartily approved the doctrine and wor-
ship of the Church of England, in which she blessed
God that she had been initiated and educated, yet
she complied with the customs and forms of the
Church of Scotland, the country where God had
cast her lot, finding the essentials of religion the same
in both.

She divided the twenty-four hours into three parts,
allotting five for devotion, ten for necessary refresh-
ment, nine for business. Her hours of devotion were
from five to seven in the morning, from one in the
afternoon to two, from six to seven in the evening,
and from nine to ten. This order she carefully ob-
served ; and if at any time she was diverted from
observing the hours of devotion, she made it up from
the other divisions. Yet, she did not confine her de-
votion to these stated hours, but all the day long,
however employed, she endeavoured to keep up a
spiritual frame ; and in the night-time when she did
awake, she was still with God, and had then her me-
ditations, her songs, and prayers.

She was ever employed either in doing or reaping

VOL. II. D

50 MEMOIRS OF

o'ood. In the summer season, she vied with the bee
or ant in gathering herbs, flowers, worms, snails, &c.
for the still or hmbeck, for the mortar or boiling-pan,
&c.; and was ordinarily then in a dress fitted for her
still-house, making preparations of extracted waters,
spirits, ointments, conserves, salves, powders, &c.
which she ministered every Wednesday to a multi-
tude of poor infirm persons, besides what she daily
sent abroad to persons of all ranks, who consulted
her in their maladies.

She was swift to hear, slow to speak ; and when
she spoke, it was vv'ith grace, ever projecting to make
others better by her converse, yet, managing it in
such an humble manner as if she designed rather to
receive than to give instruction. She had a singular
dexterity to divert and shuffle out unprofitable tat-
tling, and introduce serious discourse; which if she
could not effect, she would then pleasantly converse
with God and her own soul, in the midst of company,
without discovering herself, or disturbing them.

She was equally eminent both for the contempla-
tive, active, or practical part of Christianity : con-
templation had so spiritualized her mind, that almost
every object suggested pious thoughts to her. For
instance ; one very stormy day, sitting alone in an
arbour, at Charleton, where the trees round about
her cracked with the violence of the roaring wind,
though she heard the noise and saw the effects of the
storm, yet, she enjoyed as serene a calm as if no
storm had been in the air : upon which she reflected
on the great peace and tranquillity of a good con-
science, and the safety and security of being under
the shadow of the Almighty. Psalm xlvi. 1, and

xci. 1.

Observing a sheep feeding pleasantly among thorns,
at a distance from the flock, she thought it an em-
blem of her own state ; a stranger in a strange land,
far from her nearest relatives, encompassed with dif-
ficulties, yet through the mercy of God finding a

LADY HALKET. 51

pleasant pasture, and enjoying a cheerful and undis-
turbed mind.

Observing the long twigs of honey-suckle look
withered-like, and yet at the top flourish with leaves
and flowers, it raised her thoughts to admire the grace
of God, which can put life in a withered stock, and
make it flourish.

Beating sugar, her reflection was. How happy I, if
the many strokes I have met with did refine me, sub-
due every gross part, and make me wholly fit for my
master's use !

Looking on a map, which she used as a screen,
and observing many cross lines ; if, thought she, the
geographer had such skill to make all those cross
lines concur to discover the usefulness of his art for
the help and direction of navigators, how much more
can the great Maker of the universe order all the
most cross dispensations to be useful for our direc-
tion in our Christian journey ! &c.

Observing the bees sucking and working upon the
flowers which grew at her husband's grave, her
thoughts suggested to her, in imitation of them, to
draw instruction from that monument of mortality.

Looking on her own picture drawn at large, with
her sister, as two shepherdesses, the posture in which
she found herself drawn, leaning on a rock, and care-
lessly stretching forth her hand to a stream of water
which, gushing out of a grot, fell on her hand, and
immediately fell ofiT; this represented to her the hie-
roglyphic of her life. She had found earthly comforts
unstable as water, and therefore not much to be re-
garded, but to be let come and go without concern ;
and her only support under all the varieties of trou-
bles and disengagements, had been, her leaning on
that Rock of ages, whence she had sucked honey and
oil to sweeten all cross dispensations. She added,
'* The Lord liveth, and blessed be my rock, and ex-
" alted be the God of the rock of my salvation !"
2 Sam. xxii. 47.

d2

52 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE,

WIFE OF THE REV. SAMUEL CLARKE.

Catherine Overton was born at Bedworth, in
the county of Warwick, four miles from Coventry,
February 25, 1602, of religious parents. Her father
"vvas Mr. Valentine Overton, Rector of Bedworth,
where he lived a constant and diligent preacher of
God's holy word till he was almost 82 years of
age. Her mother^s maiden name was Isaverton : she
was a most excellent woman, who took the whole
burthen of family affairs, both within and without
doors, from off her husband, that he might with the
more freedom attend his holy calling.

It pleased God early to implant in her heart the
seeds of grace, which first discovered themselves
when she was about fifteen years old. The dis-
coveries to which she was at that time led, of the
corruption of her nature, made such a deep impres-
sion upon her tender mind, that whereas she was
naturally of a cheerful, sanguine constitution, she
now became serious and somewhat melancholy.
Hereupon Satan, that old serpent and enemy of our
souls, assaulted her with many and various tempta-
tions, whereby he sought to quench these heavenly
sparks. But, by frequent reading the sacred Scrip-
tures, diligent attending to the word preached,
and secret prayer, it pleased the all-wise God to
support and strengthen her against him and all his
devices. These conflicts continued the longer,
because she had none to whom she durst unbosom
Jierself, and make her case known.

When she was about seventeen years old, she was
sent by her parents to Siwell, in Northamptonshire,
to wait upon a young lady who was somewhat

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 53

related to her. But this kind of hfe was so tedious
and irksome to her, that, at the end of six months,
she prevailed with her parents to send for her home
again. Hear the narrative of it in her own w^ords, as
they were found written in her cabinet after her
decease. " When," saith she, '^ I was but young,
** my father being at prayers in his family, I many
" times found such sweetness, and was so affected
*' therewith, that I could not but wish that my heart
*' might oftener be in such a frame. But childhood,
*' and the vanities thereof, soon cooled these heavenly
*' sparks. But my father caused me to write ser-
** mons, and to repeat the same; as also to learn
*' Mr. Perkins's Catechism, which I often repeated
" to myself when I was alone ; and therein especially
*' I took notice of those places wherein he had set
^' down the signs and marks of a strong and weak
*' faith, being convinced in my conscience that with-
" out faith I could not be saved, and that every faith
" would not serve to bring me to heaven.

" Hereupon I fell to examination of myself; and
*' though I could not find the marks of a strong, yet,
" through God's mercy, I found the marks of a true,
*' though weak faith, which was some comfort and
" support to me. And that God which began this
** good work in me, was pleased to quicken and stir
*' me up to a diligent use of such means as himself
" had ordained and appointed for the increase thereof,
" as hearing the word preached, receiving the Sacra-
^' ment of the Lord^s Supper, and use of other private
^' duties.

*' But when I was about seventeen years old, my
*' parents sent me to wait upon a young gentlewoman
** in Northamptonshire, the only daughter of Sir
" W. W. ; at which time, being sent so far from my
** near and dear relations, and meeting with some
*' other discouragements in the famil}?-, through want
^* of the means of grace which I formerly enjoyed, I
*' grew very melancholy. I began also to have great

{(

(C

54 MEMOIRS OF

'^ workings of conscience in me; and Satan, that
'* deadly enemy to the health and welfare of our
^' souls, who like a roaring lion walks about continu-
"^ ally, seeking whom he may devour, took his advan-
** tage, through my ignorance of his devices, to raise
*' Uj3 fears, doubts, and terrors of conscience in me,
'^ by reason of my manifold sins, and for walking so
'' unworthy of God's mercies whilst I did enjoy them,
" and for being so unfruitful under the means of
" grace, and so unable to obey God, and to keep his
*' commandments ; and by reason hereof I had no
^' peace nor rest in my soul, night nor day, but was
^' persuaded that all the threatenings contained in
the book of God against wicked and ungodly men
did belong unto me, and were my portion, as being
one of them against whom they were denounced;
'* insomuch that when I took up the Bible to read
^' therein, it was accompanied with much fear and
'* trembling; yet, being convinced that it was my
''duty frequently to read God's word, I durst not
" omit or neglect it.

*' Thus I continued a great while, bearing the bur-
" den of grievous temptations and inward afflictions
*' of conscience ; yet durst I not open the wound,
" nor reveal my condition to any, as thinking and
"judging my condition and case to belike nobody's
" else. But God, who is rich and infinite in mercy,
^' and Jesus Christ, who bought his elect at so dear
" a rate, would not suffer any of his to be lost ; and
** therefore he was graciously pleased to preserve,
'' strengthen, and uphold me by his own power from
" sinking into hell through despair, and from running
** out of my wits. Thus, by reason of my continual
** grief and anguish of heart night and day, I was so
** weakened and changed within the compass of
" these six months, that when I came home my dear
'' parents scarce knew me."

Some years after her return, she, for the most part,
continued in her father's family, where, by a diligent

MRS. CATHERIiVE CLARKE. 55

and conscientious use of the means, both pubhc and
private, she did thrive and grow in grace and in the
knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, as
she increased and grew in days and years.

On February 2, 1625, (the same day on which
King Charles the First was crowned), she was, with
the consent of parents on both sides, married to
Mr. S. Clarke, at that time minister at Shotwick,
four miles beyond West Chester ; who looked upon
this match as the greatest outward temporal blessing
that ever God bestowed upon him ; whereby he could
experimentally say, ''^ that a prudent wife is the gift
*' of God," and that in the possession of her he en-
joyed more mercies than he could well enumerate.
But we must descend to particulars, and proceed to
notice some of those virtues and graces wherewith
God had beautified and adorned her soul.

Her piety was signal and exemplary. She was a
constant and diligent attendant upon the public
ministry of God's holy word; and when she lived
where she had the opportunity of hearing lectures in
the week day, she made choice to attend upon
those who were most plain, practical, and powerful
preachers; and when days of humiliation or thanks-
giving came, she never failed to make one among God's
people in the celebration of them. The Lord's-days
she carefully sanctified, both in public and in private,
rising earlier upon them than upon others, especially
when she had many young children about her, that
so she might have opportunity as well for secret as
for family duties, before she was called away to the
public. She was, like David's door-keeper, one
of the first in and last out of God's house. Her
constant posture at prayer was kneeling, thinking
that she could not be too humble before God. Her
usual manner was to write sermons, to prevent
drowsiness and distractions, and to help memory.
Of these she hath left many volumes ; and her prac-
^.ice was to make good use of them, by frequent

56 MEMOIRS OF

reading and meditating upon them : and if at any
time she was cast into such places and company as
were a hinderance to her in the strict sanctification
of this holy day, it was a grief and burden to her.

There was no day that passed over her head,
except sickness or some other unavoidable necessity
prevented, wherein she did not read some portions
of the Sacred Scriptures, both in the Old and New
Testament, and of the Psalms ; and in reading, she
took special notice of such passages as most con-
cerned herself. She was frequent and constant in
secret prayer and meditation. She also read much
in other good books, especially in the works of those
eminent and excellent divines, Mr. Ambrose and
Mr. Reyner; and in reading of them, she used to
transcribe such passages as most warmed her heart.

She never neglected any opportunity of receiving
the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, and before her
coming to it, was very strict and serious in the duty
of self-examination ; and for her furtherance therein,
at such times, she read some of those books that
treated upon that subject. The fruits of her holiness
manifested themselves in the exercise of those graces
which God required of her. She was not a nominal,
but a real Christian ; a true Israelite, in whom was
no guile. Her endeavour was to yield universal,
constant, cheerful, and sincere obedience to all God's
commandments, and wherein she failed and came
short, it was her grief and burden. Her meditations
upon what she heard and read were frequent ; and
her heart having ** endited a good matter, her tongue
'^ was as the pen of a ready writer," taking oppor-
tunities to speak to the edification of those with
whom she conversed.

She filled up every relation with the exercise of
such oraces and duties as were suitable thereto ?
knowing that where relative duties are neglected,
and not made conscience of, there also our pretended
religion is in vain. As a wife, she was singular and

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 57

very exemplary in that reverence and obedience
which she yielded to her husband, both in words and
deeds. In his absence, she wonld pray with her
family morning and evening : the like she would do
in his presence, in case of his sickness and inability
to perform the duty himself. In that case, she was
also a tender and diligent nurse about him, skilful
and careful in making him broths and what else was
needful for him. If at any time she saw him in
passion, with sweet and gentle words she would
mollify and moderate it. She was often a spur, but
never a bridle to him in those things which were
good. She \vas always well pleased with snch
habitations as, in their many removes, he provided
for her ; and with such apparel and diet as his means,
which were sometimes short, would allow. She
never murmured at any of those dispensations which
God's all-wise providence carved out to them.

As a mother to her children, whereof God gave
her nine, four sons and five daughters, she was most
exemplary, nursing them all herself. She loved
them dearly without fondness ; was careful to give
them nurture as well as nourishment, not sparing
the rod when there was just occasion; and as soon
as they were capable, she was vigilant and diligent
to season their tender years with grace and virtue,
by instilling into them the first grounds and prin-
ciples of religion : and as they grew up, she did
more freely discover her tender affection to them,
by instruction, advice, and good counsel, as there
was occasion ; and when they were disposed of
abroad, by her gracious letters, and hearty instruc-
tions at their meetings, she laboured to build them
up in grace and godliness. And God was pleased
to let her see, to her great joy and comfort, the fruij:
of her prayers, and pains in "keeping them from
scandalous courses, and in working grace in most
of their hearts.

Asa mistress, she was careful, as far as she could^^

p5

58 MEMOIRS OF

to bring such as were relioious, at least seemingly
so, into her family; and having occasion to be much
in their company, she would take all occasions and
opportunities to manifest her love and care of their
souls, by frequently dropping in good counsel and
wholesome instructions, by catechising, inquiring
what they remembered of the sermons they heard,
reading her notes to them, encouraging them in what
was good, and with the spirit of meekness blaming
them for what was evil : and, for housewifery and
household affairs, she instructed their ignorance,
commended and encouraged what they did well ;
and herself being of an active disposition, and
having her hand in most businesses, set them a
pattern and gave them an example how to order the
same. She was careful, so far as possibly she could,
to prevent all spoil, and to see that they did not eat
the bread of idleness.

To Awards her friends, and her own and her hus-
band's relations, she was courteous and amiable in
her deportment, free and hearty in their entertain-
ment. She would have plenty without want, and
competency without superfluity ; and all so neatly
and well ordered, that none who came to her table,
whereof some were persons of honour and quality,
but commended her cookery, and were well pleased
with their entertainment.

In her household furniture she loved not to want,
nor desired more than was needful. It was, though
not costly, yet cleanly, and she was frequent in
repairing and mending decays and what was amiss.
For her apparel, she was never willing to have that
which was costly for the matter, or showy for the
manner; rather under than above her rank. For
the fashion of it, it was grave and exemplary, without
levity. She followed Peter's directions which he
gave to Christian women in his time, 1 Peter, iii. 3,
8cc. " whose adorning, let it not be that outward
*' adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold,.

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. §9

*'*' or of putting on of apparel ; but let it be the
^^ hidden man of the heart, in that which is not
*' corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and
^' quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great
■*' price. For after this manner, in old time, the holy
** women who trusted in God adorned themselves,
^* being in subjection unto their own husbands."

She was veiy charitable to the poor wherever she
lived, according to that estate wherewith God had
intrusted her. She was ready to reheve such as were
objects of charity with meat or drink, and to lend
them money, and to minister some physical things,
whereof her closet was never empty, according as
their necessities required. She had a very tender
heart, and truly sympathized with the church and
people of God, whether at home or abroad, in all
their sufferings, and rejoiced in their prosperity.

Her humility was not inferior to her other graces.
She had always a very low esteem of herself, and
was ready to prefer others before herself, and wauld
not take it ill when her inferiors were set above her.
She well remembered the Apostle Peter's charge :
*' All of you be subject one to another, and be
^' clothed with humility. For God resisteth the
*' proud, and giveth grace to the humble." And
that of St. Paul, Rom. xii, 10. '^ In honour pre-
^' ferring one another."

Her love to God, to his ordinances, and to his
children, was hearty and without dissimulation.
'' She abhorred that which was evil, and clave to
*' that which was good." She was of so sweet and
meek a disposition, that she never used to speak
evil of any, but was ever prone to forgive and forget
wrongs.

She was very prudent in managing her household
affairs to the best advantage. She would have
divers dishes of meat with little cost, yet so dressed
and ordered as made them grateful and pleasing to
all. She was careful to see that nothing was lost or

60 MEMOIRS OF

spoiled. By her wise and frugal managing her
household, though her husband had never much
coming in, yet at the year's end he could always
save something : so that '' her price to him was far
*' above rubies. His heart trusted in her : for she
^' did him good, and not evil, all the days of her
'Mife.'' Prov. xxxi. 10, 11, 12.

In her younger days she was healthful, of a
cheerful and active spirit, and abhorring idleness.
In her old age, though she was infirm, yet, whilst
she could stand, she would be about one kind of
work or other. She bore her weakness and afflic-
tions with much patience and holy submission to
the will and good pleasure of God. She was so
uniform in the frame of her spirit, and so maintained
her peace with God through her holy and humble
walking, that when death, many times in her sick-
ness, threatened to seize upon her, she feared it not,
as knowing that it w^ould be gain and advantage to
her. Concerning which, hear what she herself left
in writing, which was found after her decease.

*' In my younger days, my spiritual afflictions and
*' inward troubles continued long before I could
*' attain to any assurance of my salvation ; but of
^' late years it hath pleased God, of his infinite
" mercy and free grace, to give me more assurance
*' of his unchangeable love through faith in his rich
" and free promises of life and salvation, through
'* Jesus Christ, who is precious to my soul, a,nd who
*' is the author and finisher of my faith, God blessed
'^ for evermore : to whom be praise and glory, world
'' without end. Amen."

In her converse with her friends '' she opened her
^' mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue was the
" law of kindness," Prov. xxxi. 26. which made her
company grateful to all, and burdensome or under-
valued by none. Divers years before her death,
upon catching cold, she had many fits of sickness
and weakness, and some of them were so violent

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 61

as brought her near nnio death ; yet the Lord
had mercy upon her husband and family, in raising;
her up again ahnost beyond hope and expect-
ation. And she was always a gainer by her afflic-
tions, God making good that promise to her, Rom.
viii. 28. " Ail things shall work together for good
*' to them that love God, to them who are called
'^ according to his purpose :" for, after those fits,
she walked more humbly, holily, friiitfiilly, and faith-
fully, both in her general and particular calling, as
one that waited daily for the appearing of her Lord
and Master. The winter before her death, she
enjoyed better health than she had done for some
years before.

May 25, 1675, some friends came from London to
dine with her ; and that morning, according to her
usual custom in such cases, she was careful and busy
in providing for their kind entertainment. But it
pleased God, whilst they were at dinner, to strike
her with a kind of shivering, which made her look
paler than ordinary ; and after dinner her distemper
continued, so that she was soon confined to her
chamber, and not long after, for the most part to her
bed. But herein God shewed her great mercy, and
had respect to her weakness, in that during all the
time of her languishing she was free from sickness
and pain.

As to the state of her soul, during all the time of
her sickness she enjoyed constant peace and sere-
nity, and had, througli God's mercy, much joy and
peace by believing ; Satan, that roaring lion, who
uses to be most strong when we are most weak,
being so chained up by God that he had no power
to molest her. She often cried out, " Hold out,
" faith and patience." She told her nearest relation,
when she saw him mourning over her, that she was
going to be joined to a better husband.

Her youngest son taking his leave of her the day
before her death, she gave him much heavenly

62 MEMOIRS OF

counsel for the good of his soul, and blessed him,
and all his, as she did the rest of her children and
grand-children. She earnestly desired to be dis-
solved, and breathed after a fuller enjoyment of Jesus
Christ, which she accounted best of all. She would
sometimes say, '' that it was a hard thing to die ;"
and, '^ this is a hard work." Her understanding,
memory, and speech, continued till within two
minutes of death ; and a little before, her daughter
speaking to her of Jesus Christ, she replied, *' My
*' God and my Lord ;'' and so, June 21, 1675, about
five o'clock in the morning, she fell asleep, exchang-
ing this life for a better, without any alteration in her
countenance, but only that her colour was gone.
She closed up her eyes herself, as who should say,
" It is but winking, and I shall be in heaven." She
'* changed her place, but not her company.'* She
was seventy-three years and about four months of
age, and had been married almost fifty years.

After Mrs. Clarke's decease, there was found in
her cabinet a paper which, by frequent using, was
almost worn out. It contained a collection of these
several texts of Scripture, v/hich she had recourse
to in times of temptation or desertion.

*' Who is among you that feareth the Lord ; that
" obeyeth the voice of his servant ; that walketh in
'* darkness and hath no light: let him trust in the
*' name of the Lord, and stay upon his God."
Isa. 1. 10.

** For the name of the Lord is a strong tower : the
'* righteous run unto it, and are safe." Prov.xviii. 10.

'^ Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose
** mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in
*' thee." Isa. xxvi. 3.

** Blessed is the man that maketh the Lord his
<' trust." Psal. xl. 4.

'^ Blessed is the man to whom the Lord imputeth
^^ not sin." Psal. xxxii. 2.

" Though our hearts may fail us, and our flesh

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 63

" may fail us, yet God will never fail us." Psal. Ixxiii.
26. '^ For he hath said, I will never leave thee nor
*' forsake thee." Heb. xiii. 5.

And again, " I will be a father unto you, and ye
'' shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord
'* Almighty." 2 Cor. vi. 18.

" I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgres-
*' sions for mine own sake, and will not remember
*^ thy sins." Isa. xliv. 25.

*' My grace is sufficient for thee : for my strength
" is made perfect in weakness." 2 Cor. xii. 9.

" By grace you are saved through faith, and that
** not of yourselves." Eph. ii. 8.

*' I give unto them eternal life, and they shall not
" perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of
*' my hand." John, x. 28.

'* Who are kept by the power of God, through
'^ faith unto salvation.'' 1 Peter, i. 5.

" The foundation of God standeth sure, having this
*' seal: the Lord knoweth who are his." 2Tim.ii. 19.

*' There is therefore now no condemnation to them
'^ which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the
" flesh, but after the spirit." Rom. viii. 1.

*' Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to
" every one that believeth." Rom. iv. 10.

*' It is God that justifieth: who is he that con-
" demneth ?" Rom. viii. 33, 34.

" The promise is to you, and to your children, and
*' to all that are afar off; even as many as the Lord
" our God shall call." Acts, ii. 39.

*' The gifts and calling of God are without repent-
" ance." Rom. xi. 29.

These texts of Scripture having been as so many
cordials to her in times of temptation, it is hoped
that they may prove so to others, and therefore for
their sakes they are here set down. And hereby it
appears that she was not without some shakings ;
but, through God's mercy, they were such as made

64 MEMOIRS OF

her strike root the faster ; and by her prudent and
seasonable holding forth the shield of faith, and the
sword of the Spirit, she became more than a con-
queror through Him that had loved her.

In a little book, which was found after her death,
she gives this account of herself, and of God's
gracious dealing with her.

'' From the beginning of God's shewing me mercy
" in my conversion, I here set down God's gracious
'^ dealings with me, not for mine own praise, but for
" the glory of God, and to stir up my heart to true
*' thankfulness for such invaluable mercies." After
setting down the time, manner, and means of her
conversion, she thus proceeds :

" What have been my experiences of God's gra-
*' cious dealings with me at several times, under
" afflictions. As when personal afflictions have lain
" upon me, in regard of bodily sickness or spiritual
'^ distempers. Or, family afflictions, when God hath
" taken away my dear children. Or, when I have
'* been under fears that God would take away my
" dear husband, by some dangerous sickness which
" he lay under. Or, when I have been under great
'^ fears in the time of our civil wars. Or, when I
*' have been under spiritual desertion, by God's
'^ hiding his face and favour from me. Or, by reason
^' of weakness and wants in grace. Or, by reason of
" strong and prevailing corruptions. Or, by reason
" of Satan's temptations."

The memorial records God's gracious dispensa-
tions towards her, under these various circumstances.
Some extracts are subjoined.

*' It pleased God for many years to keep me for
" the most part in a sad and disconsolate estate
*' and condition, not clearly evidencing the certain
*' assurance of his love to my soul ; so that many
" times I questioned whether I was a child of God
" or not ; whether I had part in Jesus Christ or not;

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 65

" whether I should ever attain to life and salvation
"^ or no : and this made me walk with a drooping and
'^ disconsolate spirit, so that I could take no true
'' comfort in any thing. But though ' heaviness
" endured for a night, yet joy came in the morning,'
" when the Lord caused the light of his countenance
*' to shine upon me, which was better than life.

'' It pleased God, upon the death of my youngest
" chilcj, that it lay very heavy upon my spirit, inso-
** much that I was brought oft upon my knees to beg
'^ support from God, and to crave his grace and
'' assistance, that I might not break out to speak or
" act any thing whereby God's name might be dis-
*' honoured, or the gospel discredited ; and that he
'* would be pleased to make up this outvrard loss
^^ with some more durable and spiritual comforts.
" And I found a seasonable, gracious, and speedy
^' answer to these my requests : for, though I lay
'* long under the burden of that loss, yet, in this
" time did the Lord sweetly manifest his special love
' to my soul, assuring me that he was my gracious
'^^ and reconciled Father in Christ, whereby my love
*' to him was much increased, and even inflamed ; so
'^ that, by his grace, it wrought in me more diligence
'' and carefulness to maintain and preserve these
" evidences of his love, and to yield a holy submis-
'^ sion unto his will, as well in suffering as in doing;
" as also by avoiding whatsoever might provoke

him to withdraw the evidences of his love from
*' me, without the sense whereof I could take little
*' or no comfort in any thing.

^' And furthermore I bless God for it, and speak
** it to the praise and glory of his rich and free grace,
" my prayers and earnest desires have been answered
*' by God's giving me comfortable assurance, both
" from the testimony of his holy word and the witness
** of his blessed Spirit, of my eternal and everlasting
" salvation, in and by Jesus Christ. Yet have I not
" been without fears and doubtings many times,

^6 MEMOIRS OF

*' through want of looking over my evidences, or by
*' neglecting to keep a narrow watch over my heart ;
*' or from weakness of my faith ; and ail through my
" own fault and negligence. The Lord pardon it,
'^ and make me more circumspect for the time to
" come.

'* By all these I have gained this experience :
" First : That God is true and faithful in making
" good all his promises seasonably unto us ; as, that
" all things shall work together for our good ; and
" that God will never fail us nor forsake us, 8cc.

" Secondly : That it is not in vain to wait upon
** God, and to seek unto him in our straits, who is
** more ready to hear than we are to ask.

" Thirdly : That I desire to see, yea, and the Lord
" hath shewed me the vanity and uncertainty of
** the most satisfying comforts that this world can
" afford, and what an emptiness there is in them,
'' that so I may, and I desire so to do, keep weaned
*' affections towards them, and to sit loose from them,
" that I may be ready to part with them when God
*' calls them from me, or me from them."

'* Again, in regard of bodily weakness and sick-
'' ness my experiences have been these :

" First : That as a broken shoulder can bear no
'* burden, so the least distemper, when the heart is
not in a holy frame and temper, is a burden insup-
" portable. If God hides his face from us, and with-
draws the evidences of his love, and denies to
assist us by his strength, we can neither do nor
suffer any thing. And on the contrary I found,
by experience, that I could with much cheerful-
*^ ness, holy submission and willingness, bear great
** distempers, when I enjoyed the favour of God in
^' them; so that then I could readily say, ' Good is
'^ the icork of the Lord,' as well as his word. And, ' I
*' will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have
'^ sinned against him.' Mich. vii. 9. And, ' though
*' he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' Job, xiii. 15.

eC

i(

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 67

" Secondly, I found by experience also, that by my
** pains and sickness I was the better able to sym-
'' pathize with, and to pity and pray for, others in the
" like case."

'' Thirdly, hereby I learned the more to prize
** health : and that, Because in health we have liberty
*' and opportunity to enjoy the public ordinances with
'* others of God's people, whereby the graces of God's
** people are quickened, strengthened, and increased
'* in us : which otherwise, by reason of our corrupt
" natures, are apt to grow cold and languish, as will
*' our bodies when they want food. Because in
** health we enjoy the benefit and the comfort of sweet
" and quiet sleep, which much refreshes and cheers,
*' and which commonly we want in sickness. Because
" in health we find sweet satisfying comfort in the use
*' of God's good creatures ; whereas in sickness the
*' daintiest food is loathsome and troublesome. The
'^ consideration of these things made me the more to
** prize health ; to be very thankful for it, and the
** more careful to employ and improve health and
*' strength to God's glory, and the furtherance of mine
^' own salvation."

" In regard of public dangers, I have had a great
" deal of experience of God's goodness towards me
'* and mine several ways, and at several times. For,

'' First : When, in the beginning of our civil wars
^' and distractions, I was sometimes overwhelmed with
" base and distrustful fears, occasioned by my not
"' acting faith upon the promises, and not remember-
** ing my former experiences, nor considering God's
'' love, power, and fidelity to his children, in perform-
'* ing his so many gracious promises, made unto them
^' in all estates and conditions, and to me among the
*' rest : hereupon I resolved, by God's grace and
*' assistance, not to give way to this distrust and
'^ diffidence, praying God to assist me therein, and
" found more courage than formerly, so far as I know
** mine own heart ; though truly the heart is very deceit-

68 MEMOIRS OF

" ful, as I have found by sad experience. The Lord
" teach and enable me to rely upon him with more
" courage and constancy, and more to hve by faith
" upon his promises than formerly I have done.

*' Indeed, I have been apt to fall into new fears
" upon approaching dangers; yet, upon successes and
" glorious deliverances, I have oft resolved never to
" distrust God again, and yet my naughty heart hath
'' deceived me and made me ready to faint. But this
" I found by experience, to the praise of my God's
" free grace, that as troubles have abounded, my con-
'* solations have much more abounded : for God
*' brought seasonably into my mind many precious
" promises, which were as so many sweet cordials,
" which much supported and comforted my heart,
" and upheld my spirit : when also new storms have
" arisen and unexpected deliverances have followed,
'' I have resolved and do resolve, by God's grace, not
*' to distrust him any more. Yea, though more and
^' greater dangers shall arise, yet will I trust in and
" stay myself upon him, though, as Job said, * he
*' should slay me.' The good Lord establish my heart
*^ in this good and holy resolution, who is able to keep
" us to the end, and hath promised that he ' will
" preserve us by his power, through faith, to the sal-
" vation of our souls.' "

^* In regard to Satan's temptations, especially con-
'^ cerning my coming to the Sacrament of the Lord's
" Supper, my experiences have been these :

" Finding often that I was very unable to fit and
" prepare myself for a comfortable approach to that
'^ sacred ordinance, I used to desire the prayers of the
'^ congregation unto God in my behalf, and I used
*' the best endeavours I could in private, as God
*^ enabled me, though I came far short of what was
'' required, and of what I desired ; so that I did trust
** and hope, through God's mercy, to find a comfort-
'' able day of it, and to have it a sealing ordinance to
" my soul. But, on the contr^ary^ I found much dead-

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 69

" ness and little spiritual taste, relish and comfort in
" the use of it ; so that my spirit was oft much
" troubled and cast down in me, fearing lest I had
" some secret sin undiscovered and unrepented of,
" which caused the Lord thus to hide his face from
*' me.

'* But then my gracious God brought this into my

*' mind, that the Lord doth sometimes afflict us for

'* the exercise and improvement of our graces, as well

" as to humble us for our sins. I also considered,

** that as the Lord doth tender great mercies to us in

*' this Sacrament, renewing his covenant of grace, and

" sealing unto us the pardon of our sins in the blood

" of Christ; so he gives us leave to engage ourselves,

*' by renewing our covenant with him, to believe in

*' him, and to trust upon Christ for life and salvation :

'' and it pleased God to give me faith to apply this in

*' particular to my own soul ; and a while after to

" shew me and to make good to my soul that precious

*^ and comfortable promise, that though ^ he hide his

*^ face from us for a little moment, yet with mercy

" and loving-kindness he will return to us again.'

" This was a wonderful comfort and support to my

** dejected heart. Blessed be the Lord for ever ! I

*' desire to treasure up these experiences, that for

'' the future I may resolve in the like case to put my

'' whole trust and confidence in him, that so Satan

'' may not entrap me in his snares through unbelief,

^' but that I may resist ' him stedfast in the faith :' for

*^ I am not altogether ignorant of his devices. God's

" promise is, that ' in all these things w^e shall be

'* more than conquerors, through him that hath loved

" us;' and hath said, that ' this is the victory which

" overcometh the world, even our faith.' " 1 John, v. 4.

*^ In the year 1669, there came to us the sad news

*' of the death of my second son, Mr. John Clarke,

*' a godly and faithfulminister,rector of Cotgrave, in

" Nottinghamshire, who died the 18th of September.

"Thus, as the waves of the sea follow one another,

70 MEMOIRS OF

" SO, God is pleased to exercise his children with one
" affliction after another. He sees that whilst we
" carry about with us this body of sin, we have need
** of manifold trials and temptations, as saith the
" Apostle. 1 Pet. i. 6. ' Now for a season ye are in
*' heaviness, if need be, through manifold tempta-
** tions ;' to keep us under, and to make us the bet-
** ter to remember ourselves.

'^ Indeed, it hath been the Lord's course and deal-
*' ing with me ever since he stopped me in the way
'* as I was posting to hell, to raise up one affliction or
*•' other, either inward or outward, either from Satan,
** the world, or from mine own corrupt heart and
<* ijature ; not having grace and wisdom to behave and
*' carry myself as I ought under his various dispensa-
*< tions and providences, as appeared at this time by
'* his laying so great and grievous an affliction upon
*' me, in taking away so dear a son, from whom I had
" much soul-comfort, and ardent affections, which he
^' manifested by his fervent prayers for me, and by
" his spiritual letters and v/ritings to me, wherein he
'' applied himself suitably to my comfort in those in-
** ward troubles of heart and spirit which lay upon
*' me. This caused my grief and sorrows to take
" the greater hold of me, upon the loss of one who
" was so useful tome ; yet, hereby I do not derogate
** from my elder son, from whom I have the like
" help, and comfort.

" Upon this sad occasion my grief grew so great
" that 1 took no pleasure of any thing in the world ;
*' but was so overwhelmed with melancholy, and my
" natural strength was so abated, that little food
'^ served me, and I judged that I could not live long
" in such a condition.

*' Hereupon I began to examine my heart why it,-
*' should be so with me, and whether carnal and im-
** moderate affections were not the great cause of my
"trouble, which I much feared; and having used
" many arguments, and laid down many reasons to

MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 71

'^ myself to quiet and moderate my passions, and yet
^' nothing prevailed to quiet and calm my heart, and
^' to bow me to the obedience of his revealed will •
" and withal, considering that it was God only that
'' could quiet the heart, and set our unruly and carnal
*' affections into an holy frame and order, and that he
'* was a * present help in times of trouble ;' I often
" and earnestly sought unto the Lord with many
" prayers and tears, beseeching him to quiet my
*' heart, and to overpower and tame my unruly affec-
" tions, so as to be willing to submit imto him, and
^' to bear his afflicting hand patiently and fruitfully,
*' and to be ready and willing tO submit, either in
*' doing or suffering, to whatsoever he pleased to im-
'' pose upon me, and to be ready to part with the best
'* outward comfort I enjoyed, whensoever he should
** please to call for the same.

" And it pleased God seasonably to hear my prayer
" to regard my tears, and to grant my requests, by
*' calming and quieting my heart and spirit, and by
'* giving me much more contentedness to submit to
*' his holy will and good pleasure, who is a ' God of
'' 'judgment,' and knows the fittest times and seasons
" to come in with refreshing comforts, and who
'^ * waits to be gracious' unto those that trust in him.
'* Yet, surely I was not without many temptations in
*' this hour of darkness, from that subtle adversary,
'' who always stands at watch, to insinuate and frame
'' his temptations answerable to our conditions, and
'* like a * roaring Hon walks about continually, seek-
'^ ' ing to devour' poor, yet precious souls. Then I
'' ' called upon the Lord in my distress, and he an-
*' ' swered me and delivered me.'

"'Bless the Lord, O my soul! and all that is
" 'within me bless his holy name!'' For he hath re-
" membered me in my low and troubled estate, be-
" cause ' his mercy endureth for ever.'

" Having thus had new experience of God's readi-
" ness to hear and help when I called upon him ;

72 MEMOIRS OF

*' and having found that it is not in vain to seek to
" and to depend upon God in all our straits, I could
" not but record these things, that so ' every one that
" ' is godly may seek unto him in a time wherein he
" * may be found,' v^ho is a * present help' in times of
" trouble, and vi^ho doth for us ' abundantly above
'^ ' what we can ask or think.'

" The Lord knows that I write these things for no
*' other end, but that God may have the glory, and
'' that others, especially my relations, maybeencou-
*' raged to seek God in their straits, and to trust in
" him at all times. Amen."

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 73

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON.

The Memoirs of the Life of Colonel Hutchinson,
of Owthorpe, written by his widow, form one of the
most valuable pieces of contemporary history in the
language. The following fragment, written by her-
self, contains some highly interesting particulars of
her own early history, while it presents a faithful
picture of her character.

" The Almighty Author of all beings, in his various
providences, whereby he conducts the lives of men
from the cradle to the tomb, exercises no less wis-
dom and goodness than he manifests power and
greatness in their creation. But such is the stupidity
of blind mortals, that instead of employing their
studies in these admirable books of providence
wherein God daily exhibits to us glorious characters
of his love, kindness, wisdom, and justice, they un-
gratefully regard them not, and call the most won-
derful operations of the great God the common
accidents of human life ; especially if they be such
as are usual, and exercised towards them in ages
wherein they are not very capable of observation
and whereon they seldom employ any reflection ; for,
in things great and extraordinary, some, perhaps, will
take notice of God's working, who either forget or
believe not that he takes as well a care and account
of their smallest concernments, even the hairs of
their heads.

*' Finding myself in some kind guilty of this ge-
neral neglect, I thought it might be a means to stir
up my thankfulness for things past, and to encourage
my faith for the future, if I recollected, as much as
I have heard or can remember, the passages of my

VOL. II. E

74 MEMOIRS OF

youth, and the general and particular providences
exercised toward me, both in the entrance and pro-
gress of my life. Herein I meet with so many special
indulgences as require a distinct consideration, they
being all of them to be regarded as talents intrusted
to my improvement for God's glory. The parents
by whom I received my life, the places where I
began and continued it, the time when I was brought
forth to be a witness of God's wonderful w^orkings
in the earth, the rank that v^^as given me in my ge-
neration, and the advantages I received in my per-
son, each of them carries along; with it many mercies
which are above my utterance ; and as they give me
infinite cause of glorifying God's goodness, so I can-
not reflect on them without deep humiliation for the
small improvement I have made of so rich a stock ;
w^hich, that I may yet by God's grace better employ,
I shall recall and seriously ponder ; and first, as far
I have since learnt, set down the condition of things
in the place of my nativity at that time when 1 was
sent into the world. It was on the 29th day of
January, in the year of our Lord 1620, that, in the
Tower of London, the principal city of the English
Isle, I was, about four of the clock in the morning,
brought forth to behold the ensuing light. My father
w^as Sir Allen Apsley, Lieutenant of the Tower of
London ; my mother, his third wife, was Lucy, the
youngest daughter of Sir John St, John, of Lidiard
Tregoz, in Wiltshire, by his second wife. My father
had then living a son and a daughter by his former
wives, and by my mother three sons, I being her
eldest daughter. The land was then at peace, it
being towards the latter end of the reign of King
James : if that quietness may be called a peace,
which was rather like the calm and smooth surface
of the sea, whose dark womb is already impregnated
of a horrid tempest.

" Whoever considers England, will find it no
small favour of God to have been made one of its

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 75

natives, both upon spiritual and outward accounts.
The happiness of the soil and air contribute all thinos
that are necessary to the use or delight of man's
life. The celebrated glory of this Isle's inhabitants,
ever since they received a mention in history, con-
fers some honour upon every one of her children, and
with it an obligation to continue in that magna-
nimity and virtue which hath famed this Island, and
raised her head in glory higher than the great king-
doms of the neighbouring Continent. Britain hath
been as a garden enclosed, wherein all things that
man can wish, to make a pleasant life, are planted
and grow in her own soil ; and whatsoever foreign
countries yield to increase admiration and delight,
are brought in by her fleets. The people, by the
plenty of their country, not being forced to toil for
bread, have ever addicted themselves to more gene-
rous employments, and been reckoned, almost in all
ages, as valiant warriors as any part of the world
sent forth ; insomuch that the greatest Roman cap-
tains thought it not unworthy of their expeditions,
and took great glory in triumphs for imperfect con-
quests. Lucan upbraids Julius Csesar for returning
hence w^ith a repulse ; and it was two hundred years
before the laud could be reduced into a Roman pro-
vince ; which at length was done, and such of the
nation, then called Picts, as scorned servitude, were
driven into the barren country of Scotland, where
they have ever since remained a perpetual trouble
to the successive inhabitants of this place. The
Britons, that thought it better to work for their con-
querors in a good land, than to have the freedom
to starve in a cold and barren quarter, were by de-
grees fetched away, and wasted in the civil broils
of these Roman lords, till the land, almost depopu-
lated, lay open to the incursions of every borderer,
and were forced to call a stout warlike people, the
Saxons, out of Germany, to their assistance. These
willingly came at their call, but were not so easily

E 2

76 MEMOIRS OF

sent out again, nor persuaded to let their hosts in-
habit with them, for they drove the Britons into the
mountains of Wales, and seated themselves in those
pleasant countries, w^hich from the new masters
received a new name, and ever since retained it,
being called England ; on which the warlike Dane
made many attempts, with various success ; but after
about two or three hundred years' vain contest, they
were for ever driven out, with shame and loss, and
the Saxon Heptarchy, melted into a monarchy,
which continued till the superstitious prince, who
was sainted for his ungodly chastity, left an empty
throne to him that could seize it. He who first set
up his standard in it, could not hold it, but with his
life left it again for the Norman usurper, who, partly
by violence, partly by falsehood, laid here the found-
ation of his monarchy, in the people's blood, in
which it hath swam about 500 years, till the flood
that bore it, was ploughed into such deep furrows as
had almost sunk the proud vessel. Of those Saxons
that remained subjects to the Norman conqueror,
my father's family descended; of those Normans
that came in with him, my mother's was derived ;
both of them, as all the rest in England, contracting
such affinity, by mutual marriages, that the distinc-
tion remained but a short space, Normans and
Saxons becoming one people, who by their valour
grew terrible to all the neighbouring princes, and
have not only bravely quitted themselves in their
own defence, but have showed abroad how easily
they could subdue the world, if they did not prefer
the quiet enjoyment of their own part above the
conquest of the whole.

'' Better laws and a happier constitution of go-
vernment no nation ever enjoyed, it being a mixture
of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, with suf-
ficient fences against the pest of every one of those
forms, tyranny, faction, and confusion. Yet is it
not possible for man to devise such just and excel-

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 77

lent bounds, as will keep in wild ambition, when
princes' flatterers encourage that beast to break his
fence ; which it hath often done, with miserable
consequences both to the prince and people ; but
could never in any age so tread down popular liberty,
but that it rose again with renewed vigour, till at
length it trod on those that trampled it before. And
in the just bounds wherein our kings were so well
hedged in, the surrounding princes have with terror
seen the reproof of their usurpations over their free
brethren, whom they rule rather as slaves than sub-
jects, and are only served for fear, but not for love ;
whereas this people have ever been as affectionate
to good, as unpliable to bad sovereigns.

** Nor is it only valour and generosity that renown
this nation ; in arts we have advanced equal to our
neighbours, and in those that are most excellent,
exceeded them. The world hath not yielded men
more famous in navigation, nor ships better built or
furnished. Agriculture is as ingeniously practised ;
the English archery were the terror of Christendom,
and their clothes the ornament. But these low
things bounded not their great spirits : in all ages,
it hath yielded men as famous in all kinds of learn^
ing, as Greece or Italy can boast of.

*' And to complete the crown of all their glory,
reflected from the lustre of their ingenuity, valour,
wit, learning, justice, wealth and bounty, their piety
and devotion to God and his worship, hath made
them one of the most truly noble nations in the
Christian world ; God having, as it were, enclosed
a people here, out of the vast common of the world,
to serve him with a pure and undefiled worship.
Lucius, the British king, was one of the first mo-
narchs of the earth that received the faith of Christ
into his heart and kingdom ; Henry the Eighth, the
first prince that broke the antichristian yoke off
from his own and his subjects' neck. Here it was
that the first Christian emperor received ^is crown.

78 MEMOIRS OF

Here began the early dawn of gospel light, by Wick-
lifFe and other faithful witnesses, whom God raised
up after the black and horrid midnight of antichris-
tianism ; and a more plentiful harvest of devout
confessors, constant martyrs, and holy worshippers
of God, hath not grown in any field of the church,
throughout all ages, than those whom God hath here
glorified his name and gospel by. Yet hath not this
wheat been without its tares. God, in comparison
with other countries, hath made this as a paradise ;
so, to complete the parallel, the serpent hath in
all times been busy to seduce, and not unsuccessful,
ever stirring up opposers to the infant truths of
Christ.

" No sooner was the faith of Christ embraced in
this nation, but the neighbouring heathens invaded
the innocent Christians, and slaughtered multitudes
of them. And when, by the mercy of God, the con-
quering pagans were afterwards converted, and that
there were none left to oppose the name of Christ
with open hostility ; then the subtile serpent put off
his own horrid appearance, and comes out in a
Christian dress, to persecute Christ in his poor pro-
phets, that bore witness against the corruption of
the times. This intestine quarrel hath been more
successful to the devil, and more afflictive to the
church, than all open wars ; and, I fear, will never
happily be decided, till the Prince of Peace come
to conclude the controversy ; which at the time of
my birth was working up into that tempest, wherein
I have shared many perils, many fears, and many
sorrows, and many more mercies, consolations, and
preservations, which I shall have occasion to mention
in other places.

'* For the place of my birth, I shall only desire to
remember the goodness of the Lord, who hath
caused my lot to fall in a good ground, who hath
fed me in a pleasant pasture, where the well-springs
of life flow to all that desire to drink of them. And

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 79

thiis is no small favour, if I consider how many poor
people perish among the heathen, where they never
hear the name of Christ ; how many poor Christians
spring up in countries enslaved by Turkish and anti-
christian tyrants, whose souls and bodies languish
under miserable slavery. None knows what mercy
it is to live under a good and wholesome law, that
have not considered the sad condition of being
subject to the will of an unlimited man ; and surely
it is too universal a sin in this nation, that the
common mercies of God to the whole land are so
slightly regarded, and so inconsiderately passed
over. Certainly these are circumstances which
much magnify God's loving-kindness and his special
favour to all that are of English birth, and call for a
greater return of duty from us than from all other
people of the world.

" Nor is the place only, but the time of my
coming into the world, a considerable mercy to me.
It was not in the midnight of popery, nor in the
dawn of the gospel's restored day, when light and
shades were blended and almost undistinguished,
but when the Sun of truth was exalted in his pro-
gress, and hastening towards a meridian glory.
It was indeed early in the morning, God being
pleased to allow me the privilege of beholding the
admirable growth of gospel light in my days: and
oh ! that my soul may never forget to bless and
praise his name for the wonders of power and good-
ness, wisdom and truth, which have been manifested
in this my time.

*' The next blessing I have to consider in my
nativity, is my parents, both of them pious and vir-
tuous in their own conversation, and careful instruc-
tors of my youth, not only by precept but example :
which, if I had leisure and ability, I should have
transmitted to my posterity, to both give them the
honour due from me in such a grateful memorial,
and to increase my children's improvement of the

80 MEMOIRS OF

patterns they set them. But since I shall detract
from those I would celebrate, by my imperfect com-
memorations, I shall content myself to sum up some
few things for my own use, and let the rest alone,
which I either knew not, or have forgotten, or
cannot worthily express.

*' My grandfather by the father's side, was a
gentleman of a competent estate, about seven or
eight hundred pounds a year, in Sussex. He being
descended of a younger house, had his residence at
a place called Pulborough : the family out of which
he came, was an Apsley of Apsley, a town where
they had been seated before the conquest, and ever
since continued, till of late the last heir male of that
eldest house, being the son of Sir Edward Apsley,
is dead without issue, and his estate gone with his
sister's daughters into other families. Particulari-
ties concerning my father's kindred or country I
never knew much of, by reason of my youth at the
time of his death, and my education in far distant
places ; only in general I have heard, that my grand-
father was a man well reputed and beloved in his
country, and that it had been such a continued
custom for my ancestors to take wives at home, that
there was scarce a family of any note in Sussex to
which they were not by intermarriages nearly
related ; but I was myself a stranger to them all,
except my Lord Goring, who living at court, I have
seen with my father, and heard of him, because he
was appointed one of my father's executors, though
he declined the trouble. My grandfather had seven
sons, of which my father was the youngest ; to the
eldest he gave his whole estate, and to the rest,
according to the ciastom of those times, slight an-
nuities. The eldest brother married a gentlewoman
of a good family, and by her had only one son,
whose mother dying, my uncle married himself
again to one of his own maids, and by her had three
more sons : whom, with their mother, my cousin

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 81

William Apsley, the son of the first wife, held in
such contempt, that a great while after, dying with-
out children, he gave his estate of inheritance to my
father, and two of my brothers, except about 100/.
a year to the eldest of his half brothers, and an-
nuities of 30/. a piece to the three for their lives.
He died before I was born, but I have heard very
honourable mention made oi^ him in our family.
The rest of my father's brothers went into the wars
in Ireland and the Low Countries, and there re-
mained none of them, nor their issues, when I was
born, but only three daughters, who bestowed them-
selves meanly, and their generations are worn out,
except two or three unregarded children.

'* My father, at the death of my grandfather,
being but a youth at school, had not patience to
stay the perfecting of his studies, but put himself
into present action, sold his annuity, bought himself
good clothes, put some money in his purse, and
came to London ; and by means of a relation at
court, got a place in the household of Queen Eliza-
beth, where he behaved himself so that he won the
love of many of the court, but, being young, took
an affection to gaming, and spent most of the money
he had in his purse. About that time, the Earl of
Essex was setting forth for Cales voyage, and ray
father, who had a mind to quit his idle court life,
procured an employment from the victualler of the
navy, to go along with that fleet : in which voyage
he demeaned himself with so much courage and
prudence, that after his return he was honoured
with a very noble and profitable employment in
Ireland. There a rich widow, that had many
children, cast her affections upon him, and he
married her ; but she not living many years with
him, and having no children by him, after her
death he distributed all her estate among her children,
for whom he ever preserved a fatherly kindness, and
some of her grandchildren were brought up in his

E 5

82 MEMOIRS OF

house -after I was born. He, by God's blessing, and
his fidehty and industry, growing in estate and
honour, received a knighthood from King James
soon after his coming to the crown, for some
eminent service done to him in Ireland, which
having only heard in my childhood, I cannot per-
fectly set down. After that, growing into a famili-
arity with Sir George Carew, made now by the
king Earl of Totness, a niece of this Earl's, the
daughter of Sir Peter Carew, who lived a young
widow in her uncle's house, fell in love with him^
which her uncle perceiving, procured a marriage
between them. She had divers children by my
father, but only two of them, a son and daughter,
survived her, who died whilst my father was absent
from her in Ireland. He led all the time of his^
widowhood a very disconsolate life, careful for
nothing in the world but to educate and advance
the son and daughter, the dear pledges she had left
him; for whose sake he quitted himself of his em-
ployments abroad, and procured himself the office
of victualler of the navy, a place then both of credit
and great revenue. His friends, considering his
solitude, had procured him a match of a very rich
widow, who was a lady of as much discretion a&
wealth ; but while he was upon this design, he
chanced to see my mother at the , house of Sir
William St. John, who had married her eldest sister,.
and though he went on his journey, yet, something
in her person and behaviour he carried along with
him, which would not let him accomplish it, but
brought him back to my mother. She was of a
noble family, being the youngest daughter of Sir
John St. John, of Lidiard Tregoz, in the county of
Wilts. Her father and mother died when she was
not above five years of age, and yet at her nurse's ;
from whence she was carried to be brought up in
the house of the Lord Grandison, her father's younger
brother, an honourable and excellent person, but

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 83

married to a lady so jealous of him, and so ill-
natured ill her jealous fits to any thing that was
related to him, that her cruelties to my mother
exceeded the stories of step-mothers. The rest of
my aunts, my mother's sisters, were dispersed to
several places, where they grew up, till my uncle
Sir John St. John being married to the daughter of
Sir Thomas Laten, they were all again brought
home to their brother's house. There were not in
those days so many beautiful women foimd in any
family as these, but my mother was by the most
judgments preferred before all her elder sisters, who,
something envious at it, used her unkindly ; yet, all
the suitors that came to them still turned their
addresses to her, which she in her youthful inno-
cency neglected, till one of greater name, estate,
and reputation than the rest, happened to fall deeply
in love with her, and to manage it so discreetly, that
my mother could not but entertain him ; and my
uncle's wife, who had a mother's kindness for her,
persuaded her to remove herself from her sisters'
envy, by going along with her to the Isle of Jersey,
where her father was governor ; which she did, and
there went into the town, and boarded in a French
minister's house, to learn the language, that minister
having been, by the persecution in France, driven
to seek his shelter there. Contracting a dear friend-
ship with this holy man and his wife, she was
instructed in their Geneva discipline, which she
liked so much better than our service, that she
could have been contented to have lived there, had
not a powerful passion in her heart drawn her back.
But, at her return, she met with many afflictions ;
the gentleman who had professed so much love to
her, in her absence had been, by most vile practices
and treacheries, drawn out of his senses, and into
the marriage of a person whom, when he recovered
his reason, he hated : but that served only to aug-

84 MEMOIRS OF

ment his misfortune ; and the circumstances of that
story not being necessary to be here inserted, I shall
only add, that my mother lived in my uncle's house,
secretly discontented at this accident, but was com-
forted by the kindness of my uncle's wife, who had
contracted such an intimate friendship with her,
that they seemed to have but one soul. And in this
kindness she had some time a great solace, till some
malicious persons had wrought some jealousies,
which were very groundless in my uncle, concerning
his wife ; but his nature being inclinable to that
passion, which was fomented in him by subtile,
wicked persons, and my mother endeavouring to
vindicate injured innocence, she was herself not
well treated by my uncle ; whereupon she left his
house, with a resolution to withdraw herself into the
island, where the good minister was, and there to
wear out her life in the service of God. While she
was deliberating, and had fixed upon it in her own
thoughts, resolving to impart it to none, she was
with Sir William St. John, who had married my
aunt, when my father accidentally came in there, and
fell so heartily in love with her, that he persuaded
her to marry him, which she did, and her melancholy
made her conform cheerfully to that gravity of habit
and conversation, which was becoming the wife of
such a person, who was then forty-eight years of
age, and she not above sixteen. The first year of
their marriage was crowned with a son, called after
my father's name, and born at East Smithfield, in
that house of the king's which belonged to my
father's er^ployment in the navy. The next year,
they removed to the Tower of London, whereof my
father was made lieutenant, and there had two sons
more before me, and four daughters and two sons
after: of all which, only three sons and two daugh-
ters survived him at the time of his death, which
was in the sixty-third year of his age, after he had

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 85

three years before languished of a consumption that
succeeded a fever which he got in the unfortunate
voyage to the Isle of Rhee.

** He died in the month of May, 1630, sadly bewail-
ed by not only all his dependents and relations, but
by all that were acquainted with him, for he never con-
versed with any to wiiom he was not at some time or
in some way beneficial ; and his nature was so delight-
ed in doing good, that it won him the love of all men,
even his enemies, whose envy and malice it was his
custom to overcome with obligations. He had great
natural parts, but was too active in his youth to stay
the heightening of them by study of dead writings ;
but in the living books of men's conversations he soon
became so skilful, that he was never mistaken but
where his own good would not let him give him credit
to the evil he discerned in others. He was a most
indulgent husband, and no less kind to his children ;
a most noble master, who thought it not enough to
maintain his servants honourably while they were with
him, but, for all that deserved it, provided offices or
settlements, as for children. He was a father to all
his prisoners, sweetening with such compassionate
kindness their restraint, that the affliction of a prison
was not felt in his days. He had a singular kindness
for all persons that were eminent either in learning or
arms; and when, through the ingratitude and vice of
that age, many of the wives and children of Queen
Elizabeth's glorious captains were reduced to poverty,
his purse was their common treasury, and they knew
not the inconvenience of decayed fortunes till he was
dead : many of those valiant seamen he maintained in
prison, many he redeemed out of prison, and cherished
with an extraordinary bounty. If among his excel-
lencies one outshined the rest, it was the generous
liberality of his mind, wherein goodness and greatness
were so equally distributed, that they mutually em-
bellished each other. Pride and covetousness had
not the least place in his breast. As he was in love

86 MEMOIRS OF

with true honour, so he contemned vain titles ; and
though in his youth he accepted an addition to his
birth, in his riper years he refused a baronetcy, which
the kiiio' offered him. He was severe in the reo;ulat-
ing of his family, especially would not endure the
least immodest behaviour or dress in any woman
under his roof. There was nothing he hated more
than an insignificant gallant, that could only make
his legs and prune himself, and court a lady, but had
not brains to employ himself in things more suitable
to man's nobler sex. Fidelity in his trust, love and
loyalty to his prince, were not the least of his virtues,
but those wherein he was not excelled by any of his
own or succeeding times. The large estate he reaped
by his happy industry, he did many times over as
freely resign again to the king's service, till he left
the greatest part of it at his death in the king's hands.
All his virtues wanted not the crown of all virtue,
piety, and true devotion to God. As his life was a
continued exercise of faith and charity, it concluded
with prayers and blessings, which were the only con-
solations his desolate family could receive in his
death. Never did any two better agree in magnani-
mity and bounty than he and my mother, who seemed
to be actuated by the same soul, so little did she
grudge any of his liberalities to strangers, or he con-
tradict any of her kindnesses to all her relations; her
house being a common home to all of them, and a
nursery to their cliildren. He gave her a noble al-
lowance of 300/. a year for her own private expense,
and had given her all her own portion to dispose of
how she pleased, as soon as she was married, which
she suffered to increase in her friend's hands : and
what my father allowed her, she spent not in vanities,
although she had what was rich and requisite upon
occasions, but she laid most of it out in pious and
charitable uses. Sir Walter Raleigh and Mr. Iluthen
being prisoners in the Tower, and addicting them-
selves to chemJstry, she suffered them to make their

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 87

rare experiments at her cost, partly to comfort and
divert the poor prisoners, and partly to gain the
knowledge of their experiments, and the medicines
to help such poor people as were not able to seek to
physicians. By these means she acquired a great
deal of skill, which was very profitable to many all
her life". She was not only to these, but to all the
other prisoners that came into the Tower, as a mother.
All the time she dwelt in the Tower, if any were sick,
she made them broths and restoratives with her own
hands, visited and took care of them, and provided
them with all necessaries : if any were afflicted, she
comforted them, so that they felt not the inconveni-
ence of a prison vvho were in that place. She was
not less bountiful to many poor widows and orphans,
whom officers of higher and lower rank had left be-
hind them as objects of charity. Her own house was
filled with distressed families of her relations, whom
she maintained and supplied in a noble way. The
care of the worship and service of God, both in her
soul and her house, and the education of her children,
was her principal care. She was a constant fre-
quenter of week-day lectures, and a great lover and
encourager of good ministers, and most diligent in
her private reading and devotions.

" When my father was sick, she was not satisfied
with the attendance of all that were about him, but
made herself his nurse, and cook, and physician, and,
throuoh the blessino; of God and her indefatigable
labours and watching, preserved him a great while
longer than the physicians thought it possible for his
nature to hold out. At length, when the Lord took
him to rest, she shewed as much humility and pa-
tience, under that great change, as moderation and
bounty in her more plentiful and prosperous condi-
tion, and died in my house at Owthorpe, in the
county of Nottingham, in the year 1659.

" The privilege of being born of and educated by
such excellent parents, I have often revolved with

88 MEMOIRS OF

great thankfulness for the mercy, and humihation that
I did not more improve it. After my mother had had
three sons, she was very desirous of a daughter; and
when the women at my birth told her I was one, she
received me with a great deal of joy ; and the nurses
fancying, because I had more complexion and favour
than is usual in so young children, that I should not
live, my mother became fonder of me, and more en-
deavoured to nurse me. As soon as I was weaned,
a French woman was taken to be my dry nurse, and
I was taught to speak French and English together.
My mother, while she was with child of me, dreamed
that she was walking in the garden with my father,
and that a star came down into her hand, with other
circumstances, which, though I have often heard, I
minded not enough to remember perfectly ; only my
father told her, her dream signified she should have
a daughter of some extraordinary eminency ; which
thing, like such vain prophecies, wrought, as far as it
could, its own accomplishment^; for my father and
mother fancying me then beautiful, and more than
ordinarily apprehensive, applied all their cares, and
spared no cost to improve me in my education, which
procured me the admiration of those that flattered my
parents. By the time I was four years old, I read
English perfectly, and having a great memory, I was
carried to sermons, and while I was very young, could
remember and repeat them exactly ; and being ca-
ressed, the love of praise tickled me, and made me
attend more heedfully. When I was about seven
years of age, I remember I had at one time eight tutors

' * "This is an ingenious way of accounting for the fulfilment of
superstitious predictions and expectations, which might frequently,
with close attention, be traced to their source, as is here done. It
is clear that in the present case it occasioned a peculiar care to be
taken of her education ; and this again caused her mind and dis-
position to take that singular stamp which attracted the notice of
Mr. Hutchinson, and led her to the highest situation that she could
wish for." J. H.

Mrs. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 89

in several qualities, languages, music, dancing, writ-
ing, and needlework; but my genius was quite averse
from all but my book, and that I was so eager of, that
my mother thinking it prejudiced my health, would
moderate me in it ; yet, this rather animated me than
kept me back, and every moment I could steal from
my play, I would employ in any book I could find,
when my own were locked up from me. After din-
ner and supper, I still had an hour allowed me to
play, and then I would steal into some hole or other to
read. My father would have me learn Latin, and I
was so apt that I outstripped my brothers who were
at school, although my father's chaplain, that was my
tutor, was a pitiful dull fellow. My brothers, who
had a great deal of wit, had some emulation at the
progress I made in my learning, which very well
pleased my father, though my mother would have
been contented I had not so wholly addicted myself
to that as to neglect my other qualities. As for mu-
sic and dancing, I profited very little in them, and
would never practise my lute or harpsichord but
when my masters were with me ; and for my needle,
I absolutely hated it. Play among other children I
despised ; and when I was forced to entertain such
as came to visit me, I tired them with more grave in-
structions than their mothers, and plucked all their
babies to pieces, and kept the children in such awe,
that they were glad when I entertained myself with
elder company, to whom I was very acceptable ; and
living in the house with many persons that had a great
deal of wit, and very profitable serious discourses
being frequent at my father's table and in my mother's
drawing-room, I was very attentive to all, and ga-
thered up things that I would utter again to great
admiration of many that took my memory and imita-
tion for wit. It pleased God, that through the good
instructions of my mother, and the sermons she car-
ried me to, I was convinced that the knowledge of
God was the most excellent study, and accordingly
applied myself to it, and to practise as I was taught.

^0 MEMOIRS OF

I used to exhort my mother's maids much, and to
turn their idle discourses to good subjects; but I
thought, when I had done this on the Lord's-day,
and every day performed my due tasks of reading and
praying, that then I was free to any thing that was
not sin. For I was not at that time convhiced of
the vanity of conversation which was not scandalously
wicked : I thought it no sin to learn or hear witty
songs and amorous sonnets or poems, and twenty
things of that kind, wherein I was so apt, that I be-
came the confidante in all the loves that were ma-
naged among my mother's young women ; and there
was none of them but had many lovers, and some
particular friends beloved above the rest."

Here Mrs. Hutchinson's story of herself abruptly
breaks off; but, from the memoirs of Col. Hutchin-
son, we learn some further interesting particulars.
Mr. Hutchinson was in his twenty-second year when
he conceived a romantic prepossession in favour of
Miss Apsley, from what he heard of her in a large
party; and at their first interview, this prepossession
became a fixed and ardent attachment. Mrs. Hut-
chinson piously refers the impression made on his
mind to Divine Providence. That he should have
so strong impulses towards a stranger whom he
never saw, was *' certainly," she says, " of the Lord,
*' though he perceived it not." It were dangerous,
in many cases, to draw such a conclusion ; but, in
this instance, the event justifies such a view of the
whole transaction. The passage in which Mrs. Hut-
chinson, speaking of herself in the third person, de-
scribes the warmth of Mr. Hutchinson's attachment,
and ascribes to his influence the formation of her
own character, is too beautiful and characteristic to
be passed over.

" Never v/as there a passion more ardent and less
*' idolatrous. He loved her better than his life, with in-
*' expressible tenderness and kindness, had a most high
" obliging esteem of her, yet still considered honour.

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 91

*' religion, and duty above her ; nor ever suffered the
'* intrusion of such a dotage as should blind him from
*' marking her imperfections. These he looked upon
** with such an indulgent eye, as did not abate his love
" and esteem of her, while it augmented his care to
*' blot out all those spots which might make her
*' appear less worthy of that respect he paid her.
" And thus indeed he soon made her more equal to
*^ him than he found her ; for she was a very faithful
'' mirror, reflecting truly, though but dimly, his own
" glories upon him, so long as he was present ; but
" she that was nothing before his inspection gave
" her a fair figure, when he was removed, was only
*' filled with a dark mist, and never could again take
*' in any delightful object, nor return any shining
'* representation. The greatest excellency she had,
^' was the power of apprehending, and the virtue of
*' loving his: so, as his shadow, she waited on him
*' every where, till he was taken into that region of
^' light, which admits of none, and then she vanished
*' into nothino;. 'Twas not her face he loved ; her
" honour and her virtue were his mistresses, and
'* these (like Pygmalion's) images of his own making;
*' for he polished and gave form to what he found
*' with all the roughness of the quarry about it ; but
*^ meeting with a compliant subject for his own wise
" government, he found as much satisfaction as he
*' gave, and never had occasion to number his mar-
" riage among his infelicities."

They were married July 3, 1638. In Oct. 1641,
they took up their residence at Mr. Hutchinson's
seat at Owthorpe in Nottinghamshire, where they
had passed but a few peaceful and happy months,
when "the kingdom began to blaze out with the long-
" conceived flame of civil war." From this period,
the life of Mrs. Hutchinson is identified with the
narrative she has given of the public transactions in
which the Colonel, her husband, took so distinguished
a part. Although her own brother. Sir Allen Ap-

92 MEMOIRS OF

sley, and the greater part of her relations, took part
with the King, Mrs. Hutchinson warmly concurred
in the patriotic devotion of her husband to the cause
of his country. When Sir Richard Biron, his relative,
endeavoured, through the medium of a friend, to gain
over the Colonel, then governor of Nottingham
Castle, to the royal interest, using as an argument,
that the loss of his whole estate was inevitable if he
persisted in the engagement he was in, the Governor
returned the following answer : *' That except he
** found his own heart prone to such treachery, he
** might consider there was, if nothing else, so much
"of a Biron's blood in him, that he should very much
" scorn to betray or quit a trust he had undertaken ;
*' but the grounds he went on were such, that he very
" much despised such a thought as to sell his faith
*' for base rewards or fears, and therefore could not
'^ consider the loss of his estate, which his ivife ivas as
*' willing to part with as himself, in this cause, wherein
*' he was resolved to persist, in the same place in
" which it had pleased God to call him to the defence
'' of it." On many occasions, the heroic, and at the
same time amiable character of this extraordinary wo-
man, was illustriously displayed, too often in contrast
with the spirit of those dark and troubled times. The
following passage from the Memoirs, affords a strik-
ing instance.

" There was a large room, which was the chapel,
" in the castle. This they had filled full of prisoners,
** besides a very bad prison, which was no better than
" a dungeon, called the Lion's Den. And the new
*' Captain Palmer, and another minister, having no-
*' thing else to do, walked up and down the castle-
" yard, insulting and beating the poor prisoners as
** they were brought up. In the encounter, one of the
*' Derby captains was slain, and five of our men hurt,
'' who, for want of another surgeon, were brought to
'* the Governor's wife ; and she, having some excel-
" lent balsams and plaisters in her closet, with the

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON". 93

" assistance of a gentleman that had some skill, drest
" all their wounds, whereof some were dangerous,
" being all shots, with such good success that they
*' were all cured in convenient time. After our hurt
" men were drest, as she stood at her chamber door,
" seeing three of the prisoners sorely cut and carried
" down bleeding into the Lion's Den, she desired the
" marshal to bring them in to her, and bound up and
" drest their wounds also ; which while she was do-
" ing. Captain Palmer came in and told her, his soul
'' abhorred to see this favour to the enemies of God,
'* She replied, she had done nothing but what she
" thought was her duty, in humanity to them, as fel-
*' low-creatures, not as enemies. But he was very
** ill satisfied with her, and with the Governor pre-
'* sently after, when he came into a large room where
" a very great supper was prepared, and more room
" and meat than guests ; to fill up which, the Gover-
*' nor had sent for one Mr. Mason, one of the pri-
" soners, a man of good fashion, who had married a
" relation of his, and was brought up more in fury
" than for any proof of guilt in him, and I know not
" whether two or three others the Governor had
" called to meat with him. For which Captain Pal-
*' mer bellowed loudly against him, as a favourer of
'' malignants and cavaliers. Who could have thought
*' this godly, zealous man, who could scarce eat his
" supper for grief to see the enemies of God thus
^' favoured, should have after entered into a conspi-
*' racy against the Governor, with those very same
'' persons who now so much provoked his zeal?
** But the Governor took no notice of it, though he
" set the very soldiers a muttering against him and
" his wife for these poor humanities."

Mrs. Hutchinson's singular magnanimity appeared
on another occasion, when, having discovered a con-
spiracy against the Colonel, during his absence from
Owthorpe, in which the family chaplain, her own
waiting-woman, and two more servants, were impli-

94 MEMOIRS Of

cated, she contented herself with taking active mea-
sures to defeat the plot, dismissing the principal ac-
complices with impunity. Ivie, the author of the
plot, had attended on the Colonel. Him, Mrs. Hut-
chinson, not being willing to cast him into prison as
he deserved, took with her immediately to London,
and said nothing till he came there. ** Then she told
** him how base and treacherous he had been ; but,
'' to save her own shame for having entertained so
" false a person, and for her mother's sake, whom he
" had formerly served, she was willing to dismiss
" him privately, without acquainting the Colonel,
*' who could not know but he must punish him. So
** she gave him something, and turned him away, and
*' told her husband, she came only to acquaint him
" with the insurrection, and her own fears of staying
" in the country without him." On their return,
having ascertained that the chaplain had been Ivie's
confederate, Mrs. Hutchinson " told him privately of
*' it, and desired him to find a pretence to take his
" leave of the Colonel, that she might not be neces-
** sitated to complain, and procure him the punish-
*' ment his treason deserved. He went away thus,
*' but so far from being wrought upon, that he hated
'* her to the death for her kindness." Conduct like
this stands in no need of comment : it shewed her to
be indeed one who had drunk deep into the spirit of
the Gospel.

At the Restoration, Colonel Hutchinson was
chiefly indebted to the exertions of his admirable
wife, and the good offices of her brother Sir Allen
Apsley, for the favour extended to him in the first
instance. She saw that he was ambitious of being a
public sacrifice, and '^ herein only in her whole life,
" resolved to disobey him, and to improve all the
" affection he had to her for his safety." In com-
pliance with her entreaty, he concealed himself,
till she had, by a letter written in his name to the
Speaker, ascertained the temper of the House of

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 95

Commons, who voted the Colonel free without any
engagement; his only punishment being, a discharge
from the present parliament, and disqualification for
any office civil or military. ** Although he was
'* most thankful to God, yet he was not very well
'^ satisfied in himself for accepting the deliverance.
" His w^ife, who thought she had never deserved so
" well of him, as in the endeavours and labours she
** exercised to bring him off, never displeased him
" more in her life, and had much ado to persuade
" him to be contented with his deliverance." But
all her solicitude for his safety could not induce
her to listen for a moment to any measure which
would secure it at the expense of honour. When a
kinsman of hers, of the court party, after disclosing
to her the secret resolution of the ministry to exclude
the Colonel from the benefit of the indemnity, told
her, " to draw her in by examples, how the late
** statesmen's wives came and offered all the infor-
" mation they had gathered from their husbands,
*' and how she could not but know more than any
** of them, and that, if yet she would impart any
" thing that might shew her gratitude, she might
" redeem her family from ruin;" Mrs. Hutchinson
disdained to turn informer, replying, that *' she per-
" ceived any safety one could buy of them, was not
*' worth the price of honour and conscience ; that
*' she knew nothing of state managements, or, if she
" did, she would not estabhsh herself upon any man's
** blood and ruin." She tried, indeed, to persuade
the Colonel to leave England, which if he had done,
he would probably have lived to see the happy re-esta-
blishment of our constitutional liberty, and to be again
a blessing to his country ; but he considered that
his flight would betray a distrust of God's pro-
vidence, and would not take this timely step. They
retired to Owthorpe, where they were suffered to
pass a winter and a summer, unmolested, observing
the greatest privacy, enjoying themselves *^ with

1

96 MEMOIRS OF

" much patience and comfort, not envying the glories
" and honours of the court, nor the prosperity of
" the wicked." But, on the 1 1th of Oct. 1663, the
Colonel was put under arrest, by order of the Duke
of Buckingham, upon alleged suspicion of being
concerned in a treasonable plot. After eight days,
he was set at liberty, on engaging to stay a week at
his own house ; but was again taken up on the 23d,
and after a week's illegal close imprisonment, was
brought up to London, and committed, without having
undergone any examination, to the Tower. After
making an ineffectual personal application to Secre-
tary Bennet, afterwards Ear] of Arlington, to obtain
for the Colonel leave to see persons on private business,
Mrs. Hutchinson now submitted to suffer with her
high-minded husband, according to his own will and
express injunctions, in patient resignation. On his
being transferred, still without trial or legal cause
of imprisonment, to Sandown Castle, his wife, when
she "understood his bad accommodation, made all
' the means she could by her friends, to procure
' liberty that she might be in the Castle with him ;
" but that was absolutely denied ; whereupon she
' and her son and daughter went to Deal, and there
' took lodgings, from whence they walked every
' day on foot to dinner, and back again at night, with
' horrible toil and inconvenience ; and procured the
' captain's wife to diet them with the Colonel,
' where they had meat good enough, but, through
' the poverty of the people, and their want of all
' necessaries, and the faculty to order things as
' they should be, it was very inconvenient to them.
' Yet, the Colonel endured it so cheerfully that he
' was never more pleasant and contented in his life.
' His wife bore all her own toils joyfully enough for
' the love of him, but could not but be very sad at
* the sight of his undeserved sufferings ; and he
' would very sweetly and kindly chide her for it,
' and tell her, that if she were but cheerful, he

MRS. LUCY HUTCHIMSON. 97

** should think this suffering the happiest thing that
** ever befel him." On the 3d of September, Mrs.
Hutchinson being gone to Owthorpe, to fetch her
children, the Colonel was seized with the ague
which carried him off. His wife had left him ** with
** a very sad and ill-presaging heart:" she returned
only to see his corpse, and to receive through his
brother his dying message : *' Let her, as she is above
*' other women, shew herself on this occasion a
*' good Christian, and above the pitch of ordinary
*^ women." He expired on Lord's-day evening.
Sept, 11, 1664, and was buried at Owthorpe; being,
to use Mrs. Hutchinson's words, "■ brought home
*' with honour to his grave through the dominions
** of his murderers, who were ashamed of his glories,
*' which all their tyrannies could not extinguish
*' with his life."

Of her feelings on this trying occasion, Mrs,
Hutchinson observes a silence which speaks more
loudly than the most impassioned language. Here
closes the record, nor is it known how long she
survived this overwhelming calamity. The Owthorpe
estate she sold, with the concurrence of her eldest
son, to Charles Hutchinson, Esq., a half-brother of
the Colonel's ; but there is reason to believe, that,
after selling the estates, the sum to be divided, left
each member of the family in straitened circum-
stances. Colonel Hutchinson left four sons, of
whom the youngest only, John, left issue two sons.
One of these emigrated to America, where his de-
scendants yet venerate the memory of their great
ancestor. The other is said to have gone out as
commander of a ship of war given by Queen Anne
to the Czar Peter, and to have been lost at sea. Of
the four daughters who also survived Colonel
Hutchinson, the youngest lies buried at Owthorpe,
in the same vault with her father, whom probably
she soon followed to the grave. Little more is
known of her sisters, than that one, to whom Mrs,

VOL. II. F

98 MEMOIRS OF

Hutchinson addressed one of her books of devotion,
married a gentleman of the name of Orgill.

The *' Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson" have
raised his Biographer to a high niche among the
literary and moral ornaments of her country. The
eminent qualities of heart and mind which are dis-
played in that work, have won the admiration of
the public, notwithstanding what many persons
regard as the Puritanic cast of her piety. In her
religious writings*, the same qualities are not less
conspicuous, united with a degree of acquaintance
with the learning then most in vogue, reputable to
a scholar, and distinguishing in a female, together
with a considerable superiority to the prejudices of
the times. Those which have been published by
the Editor of the *' Memoirs," are, a tract ** On the
^* Principles of Religion," addressed to her daughter,
Mrs. Orgill ; and one ** On Theology," composed
apparently for her own improvement, and, it is con-
jectured, at an earlier period of her life. The latter is
the more laboured and scholastic of the two,
abounding with learned references to the Greek
and Roman classics, and to Jewish as well as
Christian writers ; but it is less practical than the
other, and though it contains abundant proofs of
the Author's intuitive good sense, and many very
striking passages, is less generally interesting. The
former treatise displays all the simplicity, genuine
humility, liberality, and exalted piety of the Writer's
character. Some extracts from this work will
form the most appropriate conclusion to the present
memoir.

In the dedication to her daughter, Mrs. Hutchin-
son thus states her design in the work.

*' If any attempts have been made to shake you
" in principles, I bewail it as my neglect of fixing

* " On the Principles of the Christian Religion ; and, On
" Theology. By Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson." 8vo. London. 1817.

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 99

" them by precept and example, and have written
" this Httle summary for you ; not that I think it is
** any thing but what you may, more methodically
** collected, find in many books already written, and
" as usefully gather for yourself out of the same
*' spiritual garden where I had them ; but that it
" may lie by j-ou as a witness of those sound truths
" I desired to instruct you in, and, as my last exhort-
" ation, that you take heed you be not seduced to
*' factions and parties in religion, from that catholic
'* faith and universal love, wherein all that are true
" Christians must unite.

" There never was a time when the truth was
'* more clouded with the mists of error, than at this
" day ; so that it is very difficult for young converts
*' not to be infected with some of them ; all the old
*' ones, against which the Church of God in and im-
'' mediately after Christ's time so powerfully con-
" tended, being renewed in our days, and many new
" stalks growing upon every old poisonous root, the
^' broachers and sect-masters coming, many of them,
'' forth in the appearance of angels of light. And it
*' is Satan's policy at this day, when the gilded
" baits of the world, and the sweet allurements of
" the flesh will not prevail, then to tempt with a
'* wrested scripture, as he dealt even with Christ
'' himself; and if some one opinion draw men into a
** sect, for that they espouse all the erroneous prac-
** tices and opinions of that sect, and reject the bene-
** fit they might have by spiritual converse with
" Christians of other judgments; at least receive
" nothing from them without it pass the verdict of
" that sect they incline to. But I must, having
" been very much exercised concerning this thing,
*' hold forth to you the testimony that I have re-
'' ceived of God, whether you will receive it from
** me or not. Sects are a great sin, and Christians
" ought all to live in the unity of the Spirit ; and
'* though it cannot be but that offences will come in

f2

100 MEMOIRS OF

" the Church, yet, wo be to them by whom they

" come Love is the bond of perfectness, and

^' they that break the communion of saints, walk
" not charitably, and will be highly accountable to
" God for it. Those that make divisions, and those
" that follow dividing seducers, keep not close to
'' the indisputable precept of Christ. In his name,
*' therefore, I beg of you to study and exercise uni-
" versal love to every member of Christ, under what
'' denomination soever you find them.

*' You may, perhaps, when you have read these
" common principles and grounds which I have here
" collected for you, think I might have spared my
'' pains, and sent you a two-penny catechism, which
'' contains the substance of all this ; and it is true,
" here is nothing but what in substance you will find
'* in every catechism. But though we ought to be
" taught these things the first that we are taught,
'* yet they will hold us learning all our lives, and at
'* every review we shall find our understand mg grow
'* in them. The want of having these grounds well
*' laid, is the cause of so many wavering and falling

" into various sects The Apostle re-

'" proaches the weakness of our sex more than
" the other, when, speaking of the prevalency of
" seducers, he says, * they lead about silly women,
'^ who are ever learning, and never able to come to
*' the knowledge of the truth.' Therefore, every
^^ wise and holy woman ought to watch strictly over
'" herself, that she become not one of these. But, as
'' our sex, through ignorance and weakness of judg-
" ment, (which in the mostknowing women is inferior
" to the masculine understanding of men,) are apt to
'* entertain fancies, and pertinacious in them, so we
'' ought to watch over ourselves in such a day as
" this, and to embrace nothing rashly; but, as our
*' own imbecility is made known to us, to take heed
*^ of presumption in ourselves, and to lean by faith

4t

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 101

'* on the strength of the Lord, and beg his protection,
*' that we may not be led into error ...... I have

** had many distractions in spirit and interruptions
*' in setting down these things, which I send you as
" a testimony of my best and most tender love to
** you, who cannot consider the age and temptations
** you are cast upon, without great thoughts of heart
** and earnest prayers for you many times when you
'* sleep, and dream not of the spiritual loving care I
** have for you

" It is life, not notion, that God requires. If you

live in your first light, God will enlarge it, and

give you eternal light and life in our Lord Jesus,
** which is the most fervent prayer of your truly
*' affectionate mother."

We shall give two extracts from the body of the
work ; one on the love of God, the other on the
fear of God.

" As faith apprehends God to be the chiefest good,
and not only so in himself, but our sovereign and

only felicity, we cannot so believe, but our souls
" must love him above all, and long after him, and
^' seek their supreme joy in the fruition of him;
** which since we can no way arrive to but by
'* Christ, hence he becomes the chiefest of ten
" thousand to our poor souls, exceeding precious,
*' excellent, and admirable, far above all that the
^* tongues of men and angels can express him.

" All men pretend a love to God, but there are
" few in whom it is sincere. Therefore, to discern
" our love, I shall only here insert a few notes of true
" love :

" 1. None truly love God, but those who love God
*' only : they that let any creatures share their heart
*' with God, deceive themselves, and give God none
" of it.

*' 2. As God is to be loved only, so he is to be loved
" constantly ; as well when he strikes as when he
■" strokes ; as well when he takes as when he gives.

<t

102 MEMOIRS OF

" Whom Christ loved, he loved to the end ; and they
*' that love Christ, love him to the end.

" 3. He that truly loves God, loves him for himself,
" more than for the good he expects from him.

*' 4. He that loves God, loves all things that are
" his as his, and those most that have most impres-
*' sion of his holiness.

'* 5. He that loves God, loves all those that love
" him, and delights in their conversation, especially
" when they contend in the praises of God, and
*^ endeavour to magnify his name.

" 6. The love of God makes true believers to love
" all his ordinances, to love his word, and the mes-
'* sengers of it.

*' 7. Further, the love of God makes a true believer
" to love all his dispensations, even his chastise-
*' ments, so far as they are destructive to that sin
'" which hath procured them.

" 8. Again, the love of God makes believers love
" his interest, and be wilUng to part with all things
" that are dear to them for the advancement of his
'' glory.

" 9. The love of God makes true believers to hate
" all things that are contrary to his holiness, even in
*^ themselves and their most beloved relations.

*' 10. He that truly loves God, delights to meditate
'* of him, and to discourse of ]iim, and to hear the
*' mention of his name, and is weary of that conver-
" sation where God is seldom, slightly, or never
*' remembered. Do we not see that even in creature
'* loves, whatever the heart is set on, men take all
*' occasions to admire it, to consult how to attain the
^' enjoyment of it, and delight to hear the object of
" their love praised and commended by others ; love
'^ those that love it, and hate those that hate it, and
" use all endeavours to make others admire and love
*' what they do ? And are we not ashamed to pre-
'* tend to the love of God, when a little discourse of
" him is tedious to us ; when those that hate the

MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 103

" mention of him, whose mouths are full of lies^knd
'* vanity, whose hearts are full of the world, and
*' whose conversations savour nothing of God, are
•' our beloved and delightful companions? This is
" a sore evil, and deserves a deep consideration and
" reflection. Even the saints themselves, in their
** conferences of God at this day, are rather fortifying
'* each other in particular opinions that they affect,
" than magnifying the name of God for his excel-
" lency and his wonders manifested to the sons of
" men in his great works of creation, providence,
*' redemption, sanctification. Who declares to each
" other the goodness of God daily exercised to their
" souls, and calls on their friends and neighbours to
" bless the Lord with them and for them? Ah, we
'' live in such a world, that a true lover of God cannot
** do it, without casting pearls before swine that
*' would turn and rent them ; and therefore are fain
*' almost in all company to keep silence, or else have
^' their hearts disturbed from the contemplation of
** the dear object of their souls, and led astray in the
*' wilderness of the world."

The other passage occurs in speaking of the
slavish fear of God felt by the wicked.

" This fear, bondage, and terror, behevers and true
*' worshippers of God are delivered from, through
" the redemption that is in Christ ; but that gentle
" curb which the love of God puts, as a bridle, on
'' our wild affections, is the delight of the saints,
^' who count the service of God perfect freedom.
" These are affected with a reverential, filial awe in
*' his presence. They dread his displeasure more
" than hell, and seek his face and favour more than
'' heaven. Heaven would not be heaven to a true
** child of God, if God were not there in his grace and
'* favour ; and were it possible there could be a hell
" where God's favour could be enjoyed, a true lover
*^ of God would choose it before paradise without
** him. But God cannot be separated from heaven :

104 MEMOIRS OF

" he is the heaven of heaven ; and w^here he is present
^' in grace and favour, there is no hell in the greatest
*' tortures imaginable. This made Lawrence's grid-
*' iron a bed of roses. This made the stones that
'^ were hurled at Stephen, only to beat away the
'Vgross air from about him, and bring the glorious
'' heaven into his view, with the sight of which he
*' was so ecstasied, he felt not the pain of the strokes.
'' This reverential fear begets a holy care and watch
*' in the soul, suspecting and crying out to God to
*' keep his citadel there, at every small motion and
'* appearance of the enemy, in any suggestion or any
** rising mist. 'Tis a holy frame of spirit that keeps
" us always in a reverent awe and dread of the
'' majesty of God, and in an humble posture of soul
" before him, yet cuts not off, but aggravates our
" delight in him, our joy and our singing before him :
" it is our wall of defence, and not our prison ; our
*' badge of honour, and not our chain of bondage ;
" herein our love is exercised ; and this is one of
*' God's sweet embracings, whereby he holds in our
" souls, and keeps them close to him. He that feara
" not God, loves him not ; as 'tis to be suspected
" too many do, that unreverently approach his throne
'' in all their filthy pollutions, and dread not to come
** so undecently into his presence."

MRS, EVELYN. 105

MRS. EVELYN.

Mrs. Evelyn, the lady of John Evelyn, Esq., dis-
tinguished as the author of *' Sylva," was the
daughter of Sir Richard Browne, Bart., ambassador
from King Charles I. and Charles 11. to the court of
France. She was married to Mr. Evelyn, June 27,
1647, when only in her fourteenth year, but con-
tinued to reside for some time at Paris under the
care of her excellent parents, her husband being
calkd by his affairs to England. At length, in 1652,
on Mr. Evelyn's taking up his residence at Say's
Court, Deptford, Mrs. Evelyn came to England,
accompanied with her mother, Lady Browne. In
that mansion they resided for forty years, during
which Mrs. Evelyn became the mother of several
children ; and, in 1694, removed to Wotton in
Surrey, the seat of the family, where Mr. Evelyn
expired Feb. 27, 1705, in the eighty-fifth year of his
age. His lady survived him only four years, dying
at Wotton in Feb. 1709, in her seventy-fourth year.
She was buried, pursuant to the directions of her
will, near her husband ; " whose love and friendship,"
she says, '^ I was happy in fifty-eight years nine
** months, but by God's providence left a discon-
" solate widow in the seventy-first of my age. His
** care of my education was such as might become a
*' father, a lover, a friend, and husband, for instruc-
** tion, tenderness, affection, and fidelity to the last
** moment of his life ; which obligation I mention
" with a gratitude to his memory, ever dear to me ;
*' and I must not omit to own the sense I have of my
** parents' care and goodness in placing me in such
** worthy hands."

The following ** Character" of this excellent lady
was drawn up by the Rev. Dr. Ralph Bohun, and is

f5

106 MEMOIRS OF

given in the Evelyn Memoirs, edited by William
Bray, Esq.*

'* I had occasion lately to review several letters to
^' me from Mrs. Evelyn, of Deptford. After reading
*' them, I found they were much to be valued, because
" they contained not only a complete description of
^' the private events of the family, but public trans-
*^ actions of the times, where ai'e many curious and
*' memorable things described in an easy and eloquent
" style.

" Many forgotten circumstances by this means are
^' recalled afresh to my memory : by so full and
*' perfect a narration of them, they are again present
^' to my thoughts, and I see them re-acted as it were
'* before my eyes. This made strong impressions
'' on my mind, so that I could not rest till I had
" recollected the substance of them, and from thence
*' some general reflections thereon, and from thence
" drew a character of the author, so far only as by
" plain and natural inferences may be gathered from
*' their contents. In this short model, Mrs. Evelyn
'* will appear to be the best daughter and wife, the
'' most tender mother, and desirable neighbour and
*' friend, in all parts of her life. The historical
*' account of matters of fact sufficiently set forth her
" praises, wherein there could be no error or self-
** conceit, and declare her to be an exact pattern of
" many excellent virtues ; but they are concealed in
" such modest expressions, that the most envious
*' censurers cannot fix upon her the least suspicion
" of vanity or pride.

'^ Though she had many advantages of birth, and
*' beauty, and wit, yet you may perceive in her
'^ writings an humble indifference to all worldly
" enjoyments, great charity, and compassion to those
'* who had disobliged her, and no memory of past

* Memoirs illustrative of the Life and Writings of John Evelyn,
Esq. F.R.S. &c. Edited by William Bray, Esq. F. A.S. 2 Vols.
4to. London, 1819.

MRS. EVELYN. 107

" occurrences, unless it were a grateful acknowledg-
" ment of some friendly office : a vein of good-nature,
" and resignation, and self-denial, runs through them
" all. There's nothing so despised in many of these
*' letters, as the fruitless and empty vanities of the
*' town ; and they seem to pity the misfortune of
" those who are condemned by their greater quality
** or station, to squander away their precious time in
'* unprofitable diversions, or bestow it in courtly
** visits and conversations. Where there happens to
*' be any mention of children or friends, there is such
** an air of sincerity and benevolence for the one,
" and rehgious concern for the happiness of the
*' other, as if she had no other design to live in the
*' world, than to perform her own duty, and promote
** the welfare of her relations and acquaintance.
** There is another observation to be collected, not
** less remarkable than the rest, which is her inde-
** fatigable industry in employing herself, and more
" for the sake of others than her own. This she
** wrote, not out of vain glory, or to procure com-
*' mendation, but to entertain them with whom she
'' had a familiar correspondence by letters, with the
*' relation of such accidents or business wherein she
'* was engaged for the month or week past.

*' This was a peculiar felicity in her way of writing,
*' that, though she often treated of vulgar and
" domestic subjects, she never suffered her style to
" languish or flag, but by some new remark or
" pleasant digression, kept it up to its usual pitch.

•* The reproofs in any of these numerous letters
*' were so softly insinuated, that the greatest punish-
'' ment to be inflicted upon any disobligation, was
" only to have the contrary virtue to the fault they
'^ had been guilty of, highly applauded in the next
" correspondence, which was ever so managed as to
*' please and improve.

** Scarce a harsh expression, much less any evil
'* surmise or suspicion, could be admitted, where

108 MEMOIRS OF

" every line was devoted to charity and goodnesg.,
'* This is no effect of partiality, but appears in the
" particular instances, so that the same judgment
" must be made by all unprejudiced persons who
" shall have a sight of them.

" Any misfortune or disappointment was not mourn-
" fully lamented, but related in such a manner as be-
" came a mind that had laid in a sufficient provision of
" courage and patience beforehand to support it under
*' afflictions. All unfortunate accidents are allayed
" by some consolatory argument taken from solid
*' principles. No kind of trouble but one, seems to
'* interrupt the constant intention to entertain and
" oblige ; but that is dolorously represented in many
*' of the letters, which is the loss of children or friends.
'* That being an irreparable separation in this world,
" is deplored with the most affectionate tenderness
" which words can express. You may conclude
" that they who write in such a manner as this, must
*' be supposed to have a just sense of religion,
'* because there can scarce be assigned one act of a
" beneficent and charitable temper, but has many
'' texts of the Gospel to enforce it, so that all good
'* Christians must be very useful and excellent neigh-
" hours and friends, which made this lady ever
" esteemed so. She was the delight of all the con-
*' versations where she appeared ; she was loved and
*' admired, yet never envied by any, not so much as
'^ by the women. This happiness was gained and
'' preserved by one wise qualification ; for, though
^' no person living had a closer insight into the
'* humours or characters of persons, or could dis-
" tinguish their merits more nicely, yet she never
" made any despising or censorious reflections : her
" great discernment and wit were never abused to
'* sully the reputation of others, nor affected any
" applause that might be gained by satirical jests.
" Though she was extremely valued, and her friend-
" ship prized and sought for by them of the highest

MRS. EVELYN. 109

*' condition, yet she ever treated those of the lowest
*' with great condescension and humanity."

It is to be regretted, that the letters of Mrs.
Evelyn, above referred to, have not been preserved.
Copies of a few of her letters have been found at
Wotton ; but as they do not bear, for the most part,
on religious subjects, they would not come within
the design of this work. Mrs. Evelyn's ideas of
letter- writing may be gathered from her own words :
" I wonder/' she says, " at nothing more than at
" the ambition of printing letters ; since if the design
" be to produce wit and learning, there is too little
** scope for the one, and the other may be reduced to
" a less compass than a sheet of gilt paper, unless
*' truth were more communicative. Without this
'* declaration, I hope I am sufficiently secure never
" to run the hazard of being censured that way,
" since I cannot suspect my friends of so much
** unkindness, nor myself of the vanity to wish fame
" on so doubtful a foundation as the caprice of
*' mankind."

In a subsequent letter, her modesty and good sense
are unaffectedly displayed in the apology she makes
to Dr. Bohun for her silence as a correspondent.

" Should I confess the real cause, it is your expect-
" ation of extraordinary notions of things wholly
** out of my way. Women were not born to read
" authors, and censure the learned, to compare lives,
** and judge of virtues, to give rules of morality, and
" sacrifice to the muses. We are willing to acknow-
" ledge all time borrowed from family duties is mis-
*' spent: the care of children's education, observing
*' a husband's commands, assisting the sick, relieving
** the poor, and being serviceable to our friends, are
" of sufficient weight to employ the most improved
** capacities amongst us. If sometimes it happens
** by accident that one of a thousand aspires a Httle
** higher, her fate commonly exposes her to wonder,
*' but adds little to esteem. The distaff will defend

110 MEMOIRS OF

*' our quarrels as well as the sword, and the needle
" is as instructive as the pen. A heroine is a kind
" of prodigy: the influence of a blazing star is not
" more dangerous or more avoided. Though I have
" lived under the roof of the learned, and in the
" neighbourhood of science, it has had no other
" effect on such a temper as mine, but that of admi-
** ration, and that too but when it is reduced to
'* practice."

In 1685, Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn sustained a very
heavy affliction in the loss of their accomplished
daughter, Mary, who died of the small-pox in the
nineteenth year of her age. To this calamitous
event, Mrs. Evelyn adverts in the following letter to
her cousin. Lady Tuke.

" How to express the sorrow for parting with so
*' dear a child is a difficult task. She was welcome
*' to me from the first moment God gave her, accept-
*' able through the whole course of her life by a thou-
*' sand endearments, by the gifts of nature, by ac-
*' quired parts, by the tender love she ever shewed
*' her father and me : a thread of piety accompanied
'* all her actions, and now proves our greatest conso-
" lation. The patience, resignation, humility of her
'' carriage in so severe and fatal a disease, discovered
*' more than an ordinary assistance of the Divine
*^ goodness ; never expressing fear of death, or a de-
*^ sire to live, but for her friends' sake. The seventh
*' day of her illness, she discoursed to me in particu-
" lar as calmly as in health, desired to confess, and
" receive the blessed Sacrament, which she per-
'' formed with great devotion ; after which, though
'^ in her perfect senses to the last, she never signified
" the least concern for the world, prayed often, and
'' resigned her soul. What shall I say ? She was
" too great a blessing for me, who never deserved

" any thing, much less such a jewel The pa-

*' pers which are found in her Cabinet, discover she
*' profited by her reading — such reflections, collec-

MRS. EVELYN. Ill

" tions out of Scripture, confessions, meditations, and
" pious notions, evidence her time was not spent in
*' the trifling way of most young women. I acknow-
'\\edge, as a Christian I ought not to murmur, and I
*' should be infinitely sorry to incur God's further
*' displeasure. There are those yet remaining that
*' challenge my care ; and for their sakes I endea-
^* vour to submit all I can."

In the phraseology of this and other letters, the
reader may observe a somewhat difi^erent style of ex-
pression from that which occurs in the writings of
persons accustomed from infancy to hear the doc-
trines of the Reformation clearly and faithfully
preached. Mr. Evelyn's most intimate friend and
spiritual guide, was Dr. (afterwards Bp.) Jeremy
Taylor, whose theology was not wholly untinctured
with the Romish leaven. Of the solid piety of Mrs.
Evelyn, there is no room to entertain any doubt.
Her life was most exemplary, and the piety of her
children bears testimony to the care which was taken
by both her and Mr. Evelyn to bring them up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord. Some further
interesting particulars relative to the character of the
accomplished young lady to whose death the above
letter refers, will form an acceptable sequel to this
memoir.

*' The justness of her stature, person, comeliness
" of countenance, gracefulness of motion, unaffected,
" though more than ordinary beautiful, were," says Mr.
Evelyn in his Diary, " the least of her ornaments,
" compared with those of her mind. Of early piety,
** singularly religious, spending a part of every day
" in private devotion, reading, and other virtuous ex-
*' ercises ; she had collected and written out many
*' of the most useful and judicious periods of the
'^ books she read, in a kind of common place, as out
*' of Dr. Hammond on the New Testament, and most
*' of the best practical treatises. She had read and
*^ digested a considerable deal of history, and of

112 MEMOIRS OF

«

places. The French tongue was as familiar to her
" as English ; she understood Italian ; and was able
" to render a laudable account of what she read or
" observed, to which assisted a most faithful memory
*' and discernment ; and she did make very prudent
" and discreet reflections upon what she had ob-
" served of the conversations among which she had
" at any time been, which being continually of per-
" sons of the best quality, she thereby improved.
" What shall I say, or rather not say, of the cheer-
" fulness and agreeableness of her humour? Con-
" descending to the meanest servant of the family,
" or others, she still kept up respect, without the
" least pride. She would often read to them, exa-
*^ mine, instruct, and pray with them if they were
** sick, so as she was exceedingly beloved of every
'* body. Piety was so prevalent an ingredient in her
" constitution, as I may say, that even amongst
" equals and superiors she no sooner became inti-
" mately acquainted, but she would endeavour to
*' improve them, by insinuating something of reli-
" gious, and that tended to bring them to a love of
" devotion. She had one or two confidants with whom
*' she used to pass whole days in fasting, reading,
'* and prayers, especially before the monthly com-
** munion and other solemn occasions.

** She abhorred flattery ; and though she had abun-
" dance of wit, the raillery was so innocent and in-

" genious, that it was most agreeable No one

" could read prose or verse better or with more judg-
" ment; and as she read, so she writ not only most
** correct orthography, but with that maturity of judg-
" ment and exactness of the periods, choice of ex-
" pressions, and familiarity of style, that some letters
" of hers have astonished me and others to whom
'* she has occasionally written. Nothing affected,
*' but natural and easy, as well in her deportment as
" in her discourse, which was always material, not
*' trifling, add to which the extraordinary sweetness of

MRS. EVELYN. 113

*' her tone, even in familiar speaking, was very
*' charming. Nothing was so pretty as her descend-
" ing to play with little children, whom she would
*' caress and humour with great dehght. But she
" most affected to be with grave and sober men, of
" whom she might learn something, and improve
*' herself. I have been assisted by her in reading
" and praying by me : comprehensive of uncommon
" notions, curious of knowing every thing to some
** excess, had I not sometimes repressed it, nothing
*' was so delightful to her as to go into my study,
" where she would willingly have spent whole days;
** for, as I said, she had read abundance of history,
" and all the best poets, even Terence, Plautus,
'* Homer, Virgil, Horace, Ovid. She could compose
" happily, and put in pretty symbols. But all these
" are vain trifles to the virtues which adorned her
'* soul. She was sincerely religious, most dutiful to
" her parents, whom she loved with an aflPection tem-
*' pered with great esteem, so that we were easy and
" free, and never were so well pleased as when she
" was with us ; nor needed we other conversation.
" She was kind to her sisters, and was still improv-
" ing them by her constant course of piety. Oh
" dear, sweet, and desirable child, how shall I part
" with all this goodness and virtue, without the bit-
" terness of sorrow and reluctancy of a tender parent!
" Thy affection, duty, and love to me was that of a
" friend as well as child. Nor less dear to thy mo-
" ther, whose example and tender care of thee was
" unparalleled ; nor was thy return to her less con-
** spicuous. Oh, how she mourns thy loss ! How
" desolate hast thou left us ! To the grave shall we
*' both carry thy memory.

'* God alone (in whose bosom thou art at rest and
" happy !) give us to resign thee and all our content-
" ments (for thou indeed wertall in this world) to his
*' blessed pleasure ! Let him be glorified by our sub-

C(

114 MEMOIRS OF

*' mission, and give us grace to bless him for the
" graces he implanted in thee, thy virtuous life, pious
" and holy death, which is indeed the only comfort
" of our souls, hastening through the infinite love
" and mercy of the Lord Jesus to be shortly with thee,
'^ dear child, and with thee and those blessed saints
*' like thee, glorify the Redeemer of the world to all
'' eternity ! Amen !

^' It was in the nineteenth year of her age that this
*' sickness happened to her. An accident contri-
" buted to this disease. She had an apprehension
" of it in particular, and which struck her but two
*' days before she came home, by an imprudent gentle-
woman whom she went with Lady Falkland to visit,
who, after they had been a good while in the house,
*' told them she had a servant sick of the small pox
'' ' — who indeed died the next day : this, my poor child
*' acknowledged, made an impression on her spirits.
'' There were four gentlemen of quality offering to
" treat with me about marriage, and I freely gave
" her her own choice, knowing her discretion. She
'' shewed great indifference to marrying at all ; for
*' ' truly/ says she to her mother the other clay, * were
*' ' I assured of your life and my dear father's, never
" * would I part from you. I love you and this home,
*' ' where we serve God, above all things, nor ever
" ' shall I be so happy. I know and consider the
" ' vicissitudes of the world ; I have some experience
" ' of its vanities ; and but for decency more than
*' ' inclination, and that you judge it expedient for
" ' me, I would not change my condition, but rather
" ' add the fortune you design me to my sisters, and
" * keep up the reputation of our family.' This was
*' so discreetly and sincerely uttered, that it could not
*' but proceed from an extraordinary child, and one
*' who loved her parents beyond example.

" On looking into her closet, it is incredible what
'* a number of collections she had made from histo-

MRS. EVELYN. 115

*' rians, poets, travellers, &c. but above all, devotions,
" contemplations, and resolutions on these contem-
" plations, found under her hand in a book most me-
'' thodically disposed; prayers, meditations, and de-
" votions on particular occasions, w^ith many pretty
" letters to her confidants ; one to a divine (not named)
" to whom she writes that he would be her ghostly
** father, and would not despise her for her many errors
" and the imperfections of her youth, but beg of
*' God to give her courage to acquaint him with all
" her faults, imploring his assistance and spiritual
" directions. I well remember she had often desired
" me to recommend her to such a person, but I did
*' not think fit to do it as yet, seeing her apt to be scru-
" pulous, and knowing the great innocency and in-
" tegrity of her life.

" It is astonishing how one who had acquired such
" substantial and practical knowledge in other or-
" namental parts of education, especially music both
'* vocal and instrumental, in dancing, paying and re-
" ceiving visits, and necessary conversation, could
" accomplish half of what she has left ; but, as she
*' never affected play or cards, which consume a world
*' of precious time, so she was in continual exercise,
*' which yet abated nothing of her most agreeable
'* conversation. But she was a little miracle while
" she lived, and so she died !

" Divers noble persons honoured her funeral, some
" in person, others sending their coaches, of which
*' there were six or seven with six horses, viz. the
*' Countess of Sunderland, Earl of Clarendon, Lord
" Godolphin, Sir Stephen Fox, Sir William Godol-

*' phin, Viscount Falkland, and others Thus

'^ lived, died, and was buried the joy of my life, and
" ornament of her sex and of my poor family ! God
" Almighty of his infinite mercy grant me the grace
" thankfully to resign myself and all I have, or had,
'' to his Divine pleasure; and, in his good time re-

116 MEMOIRS OF

*' storing health and comfort to my family, ' teach
" ' me so to number my days, that I may apply my
'* ' heart to wisdom/ be prepared for my dissolution ;
" and that into the hands of my blessed Saviour I
" may recommend my spirit ! Amen !"*

* Evel^'n Memoirs. Vol.i. pp. 588 — 594.

MRS. SAVAGE. 117

MRS. SARAH SAVAGE.

Mrs. Sarah Savage, the eldest daughter of that
eminent servant of Christ, the Rev. Philip Henry, and
sister of Matthew Henry, the Author of the Family
Commentary on the Bible, was born at Broad Oak,
in Flintshire, Aug. 7, 1664. She was the eldest of
four daughters. Of two of her sisters, Mrs. Radford
and Mrs. Hulton, memorials have been preserved,
which exhibit them as equally worthy of their truly
honourable parentage and kindred. The character of
the other sister, Mrs. Tylston, was not less estimable.
Particular attention appears to have been paid to the
education of Mrs. Savage. At the early age of seven
years, she had made such proficiency in the Hebrew
language, by the aid of a grammar which her father
compiled for her use, that she could readily read and
construe a psalm in the original. At ten years of
age, she used to write the outlines of the sermons
which she heard preached, with tolerable exactness.
She mentions in her Diary, that she afterwards read
these sermons with great comfort and edification at
the distant period of sixty years. This custom she
continued to old age, and many volumes are still
extant of the sermons which she took down ; besides
which, she preserved in writing, her honoured far
ther's stated expositions in the family, and used
them, through life, in her private perusal of the Scrip-
tures. On reviewing, when seventy years of age,
this period of her life, she thus expresses her grati-
tude to God, for the pre-eminent religious advantage*
which she enjoyed.

** My great Creator and Benefactor endued me
*' with understanding, reason, a capacity to learn ;
" but Infinite Goodness gave me early advantages by

118 MEMOIRS OF

" religious parents, such as, I am ready to think, the
'' whole world can hardly produce the like. I was
" betimes taught my catechism and other things pro-
'* per for my age. I had excellent examples. Religion
" was set before me in the clearest and best light.
*' Secured, by privacy, from so much as seeing the
" corruptions the world abounds with, for the first
'* twenty years of my life, 1 do not remember to have
'' heard an oath, or to have seen a person drunk.
'* But still, this was but negative religion. The free
'^ grace of God, in infinite mercy, took early hold of
" me, and brought me to feel something of the powers
*' of the world to come.''

In her sixteenth year. Miss Henry partook, for the
first time, of the Lord's Supper; and on that occa-
sion, she devoted herself to God with a sincerity and
solemnity which proved a source of satisfaction to
her in the retrospect. Henceforth, her papers dis-
cover an increasing anxiety that, by departing from
all iniquity, she might adorn her Christian profession,
and walk worthy of the Gospel of Christ. A few
years after making this public profession, she com-
menced that series of closet compositions to which
her Biographer has been chiefly indebted in compil-
ing her Memoirs. "^ The following extract from her
papers, will shew the views and feelings with which
she adopted this resolution.

" Aug. 1686. I have had it in my thoughts to do
'* something in the nature of a Diary, being encou-
*' raged by the advantages others have gained there-
" by, and the hope that 1 might be furthered by it in
*' a godly life, and be more watchful over the frame
" of my heart when it must be kept on record. I
'* would approve myself to God, who alone knows
*' the sincerity of my heart. To him I have made
** my request known herein; and I heartily beg that
" what I shall at any time put down, may be the true

:* " Memoirs of the Life and Character of Mrs. Sarah Savage,
" &c. By 1. B. Williams." 12mo. London. 1821.

MRS. SAVAGE. 119

" workings of my heart, and that I may in nothing
" bear false witness against myself."

The fear of self-deception here intimated, shews
that the writer was well aware both of the deceitful-
ness of the heart in general, and of the abuse to which
the practice referred to is liable. Diaries of religi-
ous feelings were much more common in those days
than they are now. They have of late fallen into
some disrepute, from the injudicious publication of
too many private records of the kind, which were not
fit for the public eye. The minuteness with which
sometimes unimportant circumstances are detailed
in them, has, in print, a ridiculous effect ; and there
is always danger lest the writer should mistake mere
sentiment for the genuine operation of feeling, and
" put down" the workings of the head as the record
of the heart's emotions. Yet, when properly con-
ducted, such a memorial is adapted to be eminently
conducive to self-knowledge and self-improvement.
It secures the habit of retirement, and the practice of
self-examination ; and is especially useful, as keep-
ing alive an observant remembrance of the dealings
of Divine Providence.

The following year, (March 28, 1687,) Miss Henry
was married to Mr. John Savage, a respectable far-
mer and land-agent, of Wrenbury Wood, near Nant-
wich, Cheshire. Her notice of the annual return of
that day, evinces the satisfaction and gratitude with
which she looked back on the event. She was not
** unequally yoked." She and her husband made it
their constant practice to pray with each other morn-
ing and evening, besides engaging in family and pri-
vate devotion. Providence continued them long to-
gether, not less than forty years, blessings to each
other and to all around them, so far as their influence
and ability extended.

Mrs. Savage was the mother of nine children, but
four daughters only survived her. She was remark-
able for her care and tenderness towards her children
in their infancy, but still more for the concern which

120 MEMOIRS OF

she manifested for their souls, as they grew up, and
became capable of receiving instruction. Not only
was a considerable part of the Sabbath evenings de-
voted to the important duty of instructing them, but
it was her daily endeavour, both by precept and
example, to train them in the way wherein they ought
to go. She had a happy method of rendering reli-
gion interesting to young people, by encouraging
them to ask questions, and to converse freely on the
subject; and she was careful not to represent it in a
forbidding light, by any thing harsh or severe in her
manners or temper. To these means of improving
their minds, she daily added the most affectionate
prayers both with them and for them. Many in-
stances might be adduced of her pious care over
them, both in the serious advice which she gave
them, and in the letters which she wrote to them
when abroad. Whenever she saw it needful to give
them reproof, it was always done in a manner which
shewed that she had nothing in view but their real
welfare. Her Diary abounds with expressions of
concern for thgir spiritual welfare. For that of her
domestics, also, she cherished a holy zeal, which dis-
covered itself in her regular and patient efforts to
instruct them. She thus writes soon after her mar-
riage : '' Oh, that the family might be the better for
" me ! As far as I know my own heart, I earnestly
*' desire the salvation of every soul under our roof.
'* Oh, that they did but see what I see of the excel-
*' lency of Christ, the sinfulness of sin, and the vanity
" of creatures !"

Althouo-h Mrs. Savage was constant in her retire-
ments morning and evening, and, in the latter part
of her life, at noon also, yet, she never suffered these
religious exercises to interfere with her domestic
duties. She attended diligently, says her Biographer,
to the routine of the kitchen and the dairy, the mar-
ket and the fair. " Conscientious waiting upon
** God," it is stated in the funeral sermon preached on
occasion of her death, " neither prevented her dis-

MRS. SAVAGE. 121

^* charging her duty to those who were about her,
** nor hurried her to the neglect of her temporal con-
*' cerns. So remarkable was her diligence in her
** family, that, excepting the portion of time which
" she consecrated to God, it is said of her by one that
'* observed and knew her well for forty years, that
" she was not idle or unemployed, no, not for a mo-
** ment. She very well understood and knew that
** her duty to God did by no means oblige her to
'' neglect the duties of a wife, a mother, or a mis-
'* tress. When out of the more immediate service
'* of God, she was constantly discharging these.
'* Religion is no friend to sloth, confusion, or indo-
'* lence." She habitually rose early, was a great
economist of time, and, during the last years of her
life, usually kept the Bible by her while at work, that
she might employ her mind in religious meditation
on particular portions of the word of God. By these
means, she found time for works of charity and bene-
volence. ^' The pleasure with which she gave alms,
** or did any other good office to the poor or dis-
" tressed," we are told, "is not to be described. She
" willingly employed herself in making garments for
** their clothing. She always spoke of the plenty of
** a farm-house as one of the chief advantages of her
" station, in that it allowed her greater opportunities
" of supplying the wants of the poor, and feeding
'' the hungry, which she always did with her own
" hands." Her own language on this subject, will
shew the truly Christian principle by which she was
actuated. '* I find," she says, *^ the duty of giving,
" hard to manage aright ; to keep the eye single. I
" find it much easier to draw out the hand to the
'* hungry, than to draw forth the soul in inward com-
** passion. Oh, this inside of duty is that which I find
*' so very hard."

In the year 1721, Mr. and Mrs. Savage were vi-
sited with a peculiarly sharp affliction, in the loss of

VOL. II. G

122 MEMOIRS OF

their only son, who was cut off by the small-pox in
the twenty-second year of his age. The reality and
efficacy of her religious principles were now put to
the trial, and they stood the test. Her submission
to the will of God, and her unshaken confidence in
the Divine goodness, are satisfactorily displayed in
the private record of her feelings at this period.

'' 1721, February 15. My dear Philip was seized
'^ with the fatal distemper, the small-pox. Many,
*' many fervent prayers were put up for him, both in
" closets and congregations ; but on Monday, Febru-
'^ ary 27th, between one and two o'clock, he breathed
'' his last — the blessed spirit took wing, I trust, to
'* the world of everlasting rest and joy. The desire
'* of our eyes — concerning whom we were ready to
*' say. This son shall comfort us. Once all our joy —
" now, all our tears. Near 22 years of age. O mi/
'' dear Jonathan^ thou art slain in the higit places. He
*' was just beginning to appear in public business —
^' sober, and pious. A true lover of his friends, of
" whom he said on his death-bed, * I lay them down
" * as I do my body, in hope to meet again every way
*' ^ better.' — To his father he said, ' Farewell, my dear
"' ' father, you won't be long after me.' One of the
" last words we could understand, was of that blessed
choir, that triumphant choir, to which, I verily
believe, he is joined. A sore breach this is to us.
^' But, now God has done his work, let us go and do
*' ours, patiently and quietly lying down under the
'' rod . It is the Lord, let him do as seemeth him good.
'^ I have no murmuring thoughts. Lord, thou shalt
" beat, and I will endeavour to bear. I do not think
" the worse of God, or of prayer, for this dispensa-
" tion; yet, sometimes, I am much oppressed. I find
" that deceit lies in generals. How often have I, in
" word and in tongue, given up and devoted my all
'* — yoke-fellow, children, estate — and all without
" mental reservation. And now when God comes to

(<

MRS. SAV/VGE. 123

'* try me in but one dear comfort, with what diffi-
" culty can I part with him ! O this wicked heart I
'^ Shall I think to keep back any thing when I have
*' given all? By no means. Lord, 1 am thine, and
" all I have, and all I can do. Though thou shouldest
" strip me of all my children, and of all my comforts
" here, yet, if thou give me thyself, and clear up to
'* me my interest in the everlasting covenant, it is
" enough. That blessed covenant has enough in it
*' to gild the most gloomy dispensation of Provi-
'' dence. O, that we may hear the Lord's contro-
" versy ! He seems to speak in this providence as
'* one that will be heard. Lord, give me the hearing
" ear. The man of wisdom will hear. What says my
" Lord unto his servant ? — It is a great loss to lose
*' any children, especially such an one as this. Lord,
" do me good by it, that I may keep the mean be-
" tween despising the chastening, and fainting under
" it. We have had a long series of health, peace,
'*■ plenty. We have not been emptied from vessel to
*' vessel. We have lived too easily, too happily, even
*^ to the envy of those about us; and now, God
** sends this sharp and heavy aflfliiction. I would get
" good by it, and be brought nearer to Himself,
" Alas ! how weak is my heart, how hard to turn my
'* tears into the right channel ! We have many sym-
'* pathizing friends and letters, which to me are but
" as songs sung to a heavy heart."

*^ Blessed be God," she says a little further on,
*' my dear child had no bands in his death. He said,
** ' Death is not bitter.'" She thus introduces an-
other of this excellent young man's dying expressions,
which was not less remarkable : " It was one of my
" dear Philip's sayings, when on his death-bed, ' I
*' ' can bear any thing from God's immediate hand' —
" Then why should not I ?" Her reply has been
preserved, to one of the many consolatory letters ad-
dressed to her on this melancholy occasion. We
transcribe part of it.

g2

124 MEMOIRS OF

" Rev. and dear Sir,
" I do, as I well may, esteem it a great favour, that
you would take so much time from your other
weighty employments to write to me a mere stranger.
But unacquaintedness with the face is no bar to
the communion of saints ; and for all your kind ex-
j^ressions of a tender sympathy, I return you a great
many thanks. 'Tis a demonstration that you are
qualified, as a gospel minister should be, to bind up
broken hearts, and to speak a word in season to
them that need it. It has pleased our heavenly Fa-
ther, in wisdom to chastise us, by taking away the
" desire of our eyes with a stroke ;" yet I desire to
justify him in all his dealings. From his good hands
nothing can come amiss. I can see by what you
write, that you can easily put your soul in my souFs
stead, and know somewhat of the heart of a sorrow-
ful parent. I was ready to say — this same shall
comfort us, and that he would be serving God on
earth when we are silent in the dust ; but Infinite
Wisdom said otherwise. And shall folly dispute ?
We were ready to think our mountain stood strong ;
but alas ! soon convinced of the contrary. I would
now make it my greatest care to improve the provi-
dence. To lose such a dear child, and not be bet-
tered by the affliction, doubles the loss. You well
observe that of David, / shall go to him — not only
to him to the grave, but to him to heaven, to be joined
to that blessed choir which he spoke of a few hours
before his death. Though we are much at a loss as
to the particular meaning of this providence, yet, in
general, we are sure it is ivell. I have now one less
tie to draw me downward, and shall have so much
less care in my dying moments."

Mr. Savage survived his son little more than eight
years. His removal was sudden. His widow, now
in her sixty-sixth year, thus gives vent to her feelings
iinder this afflicting bereavement.

MRS. SAVAGE. 125

** Saturday, Sept. 27th. A heavy stroke falls
*' upon me, unexpectedly, by the sudden death of my
" dear yoke-fellow, with whom I have lived in great
** amity and affection, these forty-two years and six
** months. Lord, zvhat is man? He seemed pretty
** well in the morning, but complaining of pain, I per-
** suaded him to go to bed, which he no sooner had
** done, but he expired without a sigh or groan.
" Alas! What— what is this that God hath done unto
'* us? O for Vv^isdom and grace to improve this sad
" providence ! He had almost completed his seventy-
" eighth year. I will endeavour to lay my hand on
" my mouth. I have often told my heavenly Father,
^* that I will take nothing ill that he shall do with
" me. Since I have his eye, his ear, and blessing,
** why should I not submit to his rod?"

" Sabbath day, Sept. 28th. We kept a poor, cold,
*' and sorrowful sabbath. I sit alone and keep si-
** lence."

" Tuesday, Sept. 30th. I am still desiring and
^* endeavouring to improve this affliction. I would
*• meditate on the happiness of separate spirits. He
'* that was lately groaning (though that was seldom)
*' is now, I trust, singing and rejoicing, and would
" not be again with us. O glorious hour! Blessed
*' exchange !"

** Wednesday, Oct. 1st. We laid up the dear re-
'*■ mains in comfortable hope of a glorious resurrec-
" tion. The sadness of my spirit makes me almost
** stupid ; yet, in reflection, I will say — all is well.
" We are parted for a time ; yet, I trust, we shall be
*' together for ever. Our friends and neighbours
** mingle tears with us. He has long served his ge-
** neration, and is now gone to rest. A flood of cares
" falls on me, but I cast all my care on my heavenly
" Father, who has cared for me hitherto, and, I trust,
*' will. I lack wisdom. I ask it. Lord, give — give
** liberally. Do not upbraid. No, not with my folly.
•' For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will.

126 MEMOIRS OF

" give grace and glory : no good thing luill he withhold
^' from tltem that walk uprightly. A promise worth
** a king's ransom. God's sovereignty should silence
" me, and his wisdom satisfy. It is well with my
'' husband. It is welL All is well that God doth.
*' My time after him is not likely to be long."

After the death of her husband, Mrs. Savage did
not long continue to reside at Wrenbury Wood ; but,
after passing some time with her daughter, the wife
of the Rev. Mr. Holland, at Wem, she removed, in
the year 1736, to West Bromwich ; vv^here, in the so-
ciety of another married daughter, the Vvife of the
Rev. Mr. Witton, Minister of the Dissenting con-
gregation at that place, she spent the residue of her
days in peaceful and diligent preparation for heaven.
Adverting to the advanced period to which her days
had been lengthened, she writes : '* 1738, March 14.
" Oh that I may be some way useful even in old
'^ age ! I am willing to continue here while God
" pleases, but my settled judgement is, to desire to de-
*' part and be with Christ, which is far better. I see
'^ my children's children, and peace upon Israel."

About this time, she was gratified with an unex-
pected visit from the pious and learned Dr. Dod-
dridge. " I have often," she says, " been pleased
'^ and edified by his books, but I never expected to
*^ have conversed personally with him. I now find
** such a happy mixture of piety, sweetness, and hu-
" mihty, as much affects me."

It pleased God to extend the life of this venerable
Christian to a very advanced age. She survived her
removal to West Bromwich between fifteen and six-
teen years, and expired, without any previous illness,
on the 27th of Feb. 1752, in her eighty-eighth year.
'* She dropped mortality," says her niece, Miss
Tylston, " without being herself sensible of the
'' change, till she found herself in the world of light,
** among the number of the spirits made perfect ;
'^ the world to which she was allied, and formed to

MRS. SAVAGE. 127

*' the temper and disposition of. She had lived a
'* holy, cheerful life ; made religion her business,
'' her choice early ; and she was an ornament to her
" profession, through all the different scenes and
" periods of it. She was useful, beloved, meek,
** humble, charitable. She is gone to receive her
" reward, joined to the society she loved."

Candour and moderation were conspicuous traits
in the character of this excellent woman. Firmly
attached to the Presbyterian mode of worship, a
Protestant Dissenter upon principle, as well as by
education, while she never shrunk from an avowal of
her sentiments, she was very far from cherishing a
factious or schismatical spirit. She was in the habit
of statedly resorting to the parish church once on
the Lord's day, while resident at Wrenbury Wood,
there being no Dissenting meeting-house nearer than
Nantwich, a distance of five miles. Her papers
contain frequent extracts from the Book of Common
Prayer, with special observation of many admirable
petitions as suited to her own circumstances. This
happy combination of firmness and moderation, of
prudence and candour, is admirably displayed in a
letter of mild remonstrance addressed to a clergy-
man, occasioned by what appears to have been con-
sidered as a personal attack from the pulpit. It does
great credit to the party addressed, that the letter is
said to have produced its due effect.

** Dear Sir,
'' I have long desired an opportunity of conversing
with you, and I know not how to excuse my doino*
thus, since you are so obliging and easy of access,
but only for privacy, especially as it becomes such as
I in silence to learn. Yet, we are also commanded
to be ready to give a reason of the hope that is in us,
with meekness and fear. Therefore, you will pardon
my boldness in thus expressing my thoughts.
Women's tongues and pens sometimes claim a

128 MEMOIRS OF

freedom, which men, who are more wise and reserved,
will not use. It is (or may be thought) our unhappi-
ness to differ from the established church in some
lesser things, but, while we agree in fundamentals,
why should there be among us strife and envying?

*' The high charge we had yesterday from you, of
devilish pride, arrogance, &c., I cannot account light,
especially from one who should stand in the place of
God, to guide and direct us in the way to heaven,
I think it invidious to judge men's hearts, which
none but God can do. It cannot be in itself sinful
to dissent from the church, else why did we cast off
the yoke of Rome ?

" For my own part, I freely profess that I have seen
so much sincere piety, fervent charity, and humility
practised in those I have joined with, and found
such solid peace and tranquillity in this way I have,
walked in, that, I trust, I shall never be either
allured, or affrighted, from it. The name of schism
(thatecclesiasticalscare-crow)is industriously, though
falsely, thrown on us, as I have seen proved. But if
it were true, who is in the fault ? The imposers of
things, themselves own to be unnecessary, or we
who dare not comply with them, yet desirous to
sacrifice any thing to peace, but truth ? I must say,
as any unprejudiced person will, that if the Noncon-
formists are mistaken, they are the most unhappy to
exclude themselves from all that is desirable in the
world, and to expose themselves to poverty, scorn,
and hatred. I must do them that justice to tell you,
I never remember to have heard one public reflection
from any of them upon the established church. I
need not here enter into the merits of their cause,
which hath so many better advocates ; only I must
take the freedom to express my resentments that we
have, sometimes, from your pulpit, such keen reflec-
tions as we cannot bear, and as, I am sure, do no
real good to any one. The great things of the
Gospel — faith in Christ, repentance unto life, and

MRS. SAVAGE.

129

new obedience — these are enough to spend our zeal
about : as a worthy person writes, our Hves are
short, our work great, our souls precious, heaven
and hell real things, and all that must be done for
eternity must be done quickly, or it will be too late.
Therefore, I am always glad to hear ministers insist
on these great things. I was much affected, many
years ago, with a sermon I wrote from you on those
words — Purifying to himself a peculiar people , zealous
of good ivorks. I wish you would preach, and pray,
as you did then ; yet, good Sir, excuse my freedom
in thus giving vent to my thoughts. I think there
is no family but ours in the parish that are accounted
dissenters ; yet, you know, we are as true friends to
you, and the church, as any in the parish, perhaps
more than many who profess to be entire members
of the church of England. As many of our family
attend the ministry as most, or any of the like
number; and it is to me sad that we should be
censured, and worse thought of than them, than
hundreds who absent themselves through ignorance
and carelessness. It is well we are not to be each
other's judges.

" Said my honoured father, when dying — ' Follow

* peace, and holiness, and let them say what they

* will.' This has been my sincere desire and endea-
vour. And I solemnly profess, I have not at all
endeavoured to draw my children into the same way,
otherwise than what my example might do, though
some of them have taken pains to study those points,
and are not presbyterians by chance, but of choice ;
for I desire they may not pin their faith to my sleeve,
but choose for themselves, and, if they take this
despised way, it is not because they know no other,
but because they know no better.

" I have heard divers complain that you speak so
low, they can scarce hear you; but I observed yester-
day, you could raise your voice. If I had foreseen
our treatment, I believe my place had been empty^,

130 MEMOIRS OF

I know not how they will answer it, who beat their
fellow-servants, and cast stones instead of bread. I
know not what the church would have : they have
all the profits, preferments, and advantas^es they can
desire, yet, because our governors take off the
power to persecute, it avails nothing. But I am
quite too tedious, and I crave your pardon, Sir, a
thousand tiaies, for my freedom with you. I truly
respect your person and ministry, and pray for its
success, I am satisfied, you well know the great
value of all souls, and the danger of most. This
thought will quicken you to cry aloud, and shew
your hearers their sin and duty before it be too late.
What a blessed place is heaven, where there will be
no divisions, or disturbances, for ever ! To which
glory may He bring us, who hath most dearly bought
us with the inestimable price of his own blood.
Amen."

Such a letter was worthy of the daughter of
Philip Henry.

A few additional extracts from her diary shall
close this memoir, and supply the place, as they
obviate the necessity, of any further panegyric.

'' 1714. June. When 1 look back to the year
" 1686, wherein I first began this account of myself,
*' it is witJi the remark of that blessed apostle —
^' Having obtained help of God, I continue to this day.
'' Hitherto supported, comforted, carried on through
*' storms and difficulties, so as still to be, in some
" measure, pressing forward. Not unto me, not
*^ unto me. Free grace shall have all the glory. I
'* was then little more than twenty ; now almost fifty
" years of age. I have entered my declining years.
" Finding those that look out of the windows begin
^' to darken, I am obliged to use glasses. I find my
** strength fails. Yet, as to these infirmities, several
'* things comfort me. They are only natural, and
*' common, not hastened by my own sin and folly.

MRS. SAVAGE. 131

*' I, Otherwise, enjoy a very great measure of health,
*' and can be in any post of usefulness, not having
'^ been conjfined to my bed or chamber for almost
" three years. But, the greatest support of all is,
'' the good hope of everlasting rest, that when my
** earthly tabernacle shall be dissolved, I shall have
*' a heavenly mansion provided for me, where I shall
" see God, and my glorious Redeemer, and enjoy
" them. And, though how, or in what manner this
*' shall be, we are not sure, yet, the thing itself is
" clear, as if written with a sun-beam. Not all the
" powers of earth and hell shall be able to break, or
*' make void, one link of that glorious, golden chain.
** Moreover, tvhom he did predestinate, them he also
*' called; and whom he called, them he also justified;
" and whom he justified, them he also glorified. What
" though the flesh perish, and be worms' meat, yet,
** the better part will be secured, and the Lord Jesus
** Christ will not lose one grain of the dust of any of
*' his dear people, but will, by his power, raise them
'' up ; so that soul and body shall be united, and be
** together for ever with the Lord. Amen. Halle-
** lujah ! Establish thy word unto thy servant on
*' which thou hast caused me to hope. I am not
" ashamed, for I know in ivhom I have trusted, and
*' he is able to keep that zchich 1 have committed unto
^* him against that dayT

Twenty years after, in 1734, the venerable Writer
thus reviews the leading circumstances in her history.

" Finding decays," she writes, " especially in my
" memory, I think it not improper to leave this
*' testimony under my hand, of that kind Providence
** which has followed me all my days. I think the
** employing of my writing faculty this way, is a duty
** which God may expect from me, since 1 must own,
*' that is a pleasure to me, which some who could do
*' it, are averse to."

" In the 16th year of my age I was admitted to
" the Lord's table. I took the covenant of my

132 MEMOIRS OF

^' baptism upon myself. I made it my own act and
" deed to join myself to the Lord; and I have since
'^ found unspeakable comfort that my early days —
'* the male in the flock — were dedicated to his service.
** I have often repeated, but never repented, this
'* choice.

*' I think I should not overlook the great mercy
** I had in those years by bodily health — not one
" day's sickness in twenty years. I had comfort in
'' the society of friends and dear relations. We
" dwelt together in the greatest unity. I had ex-
** cellent helps by good books — the lives of holy
" persons of both sexes. These, I am sure, may be
^' placed in the account of my mercies.

" The most signal, eminent mercy of God to me,
" was in the great turn of my life, when I was mar-
*' ried, March 28, 1687, to one every way a help-
*' meet for me. I was enabled, in some measure, by
'' Divine grace, for the duties of that state, and 1 had
" abundance of the comforts of it. All praise to the
*' God of my mercies.

*' In the year 1688, I was brought safely through
*' the small-pox, after which my dear father led us
" in a family thanksgiving. He preached from
" John, V. 14. Thou art made whole: shi no more. I
" would reckon the frequent lectures we then had,
" among my mercies- I hope some good was done,
" and the house was, as I thought, perfumed by the
" good prayers offered in it.

*' The end of that year my first daughter, Sarah, was
" born, and suitable mercies were afforded to us both.
** After her I had six living children — three taken,
'' three left. — Dear Philip spared to his 22d year,
" then taken by the small-pox. I shall go to them.

*^ Another considerable mercy to me has been the
" marriage of all my four daughters suitably, and
*' with consent, and to those who fear God, and have
'* a competency in the world. All of them fruitful
" vines, and nursing mothers. Especially, that I

MRS. SAVAGE. 133

*' see some of theirs, as they grow up, serious, with
** their faces heaven-ward.

" I think I may reckon among my mercies, the
" supports I have had under sharp afflictions — an
" only son taken in the flower of his age, 1721 — my
*' dear husband, in September, 1729, suddenly re-
*' moved. Yet my God has taken that care of me
'* which the dearest relations could not have done,
** had they been spared. Since I have been in the
" widowed state, still goodness and mercy have
" followed me.

'* The health I have in my old age is, surely, a
*' great mercy.

' His tnercy crowns my growing years.'

" I have the use of reason, and peace in my own
** conscience, those unspeakable blessings. How
*' much am I indebted ! Ebenezer."

Towards the close of the diary occurs this short
but expressive record. Mrs. Savage was, at this
period, verging on seventy-eight.

" 1742. April 10. My kind Master will not cast
** off a poor old servant. It is a good remark of
" Dr. Watts's, that, ' to a pious person, old age is
** but as a summer's evening.' O that mine may be
'*so!"

Her wish was granted : her end was peace.

134 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. ANN HULTON.

Ann, tbe youngest daughter of the Rev. Philip
Henry, was born at Broad Oak, Nov. 25, 1668. She
afforded, together with her sisters and their brother,
a signal instance of the advantage and blessing of a
religious education. " I know not," remarks the
Editor of her Memoirs, '* whether the children were
" more happy in having such parents, or the parents
** in having such children." From the manuscript
memoir drawn up by her brother, the Rev. Matthew^
Henry, for private circulation, and recently published
by the author of Memoirs of Mrs. Savage, w^e obtain
the following brief particulars of her life and cha-
racter.

This excellent person gave very early indications
of a sweet and tractable disposition, and an aptness
to learn above most of her sex and age ; which *' in-
" duced her father, after she had learned to read
" English well, before she began to sew, to initiate
" her into the Latin tongue, which she took very
'* easily, but made no great progress in it." From
a child she knew the Holy Scriptures, and read them
with delight ; and as soon as she grew to any capa-
city, *^ was very well affected and inclined to the
" exercises of piety and devotion." Before she had
attained the age of seven, she had learned to take
part in the repetitions of the heads of sermons in
the family; and when about eleven years old, she
began to write down the substance of w^hat she
heard ; a practice which she continued all her days.
In her sixteenth year, she was admitted to the Lord's
Supper, and, with a great deal of satisfaction both to
herself and to her pious father, joined herself to the
Lord and to his church. " How amiable and ex-
** emplary her deportment was in all relations," says
her Brother, " as a daughter, as a sister, as a friend.

MRS. ANN HULTON. 135

*' they who knew her can easily bear record ; and
" though it never appeared to the discouragement
*' of the rest, it could not but be discerned, that
*^ Mr. Henry had a special love for his little Nancy,
" and sometimes said, she was the diamond in his
" ring." In her twentieth year, she was married to
Mr. John Hulton, of Chester. In her private papers,
she thus refers to the change in her condition :
*' After nineteen years barrenness in the place where
" I first sprung up, God was pleased, by his provi-
*' dence, to put me in the married state, and trans-
*' plant me into a new soil. It was an affair I
'* thought of great weight, and I was much afraid
*' of seeking great things for myself in this world
" therein."

She became a mother in the year 1689; but the
child died in the birth. Her reflections on this event
are very striking.

" A day never to be forgotten, wherein I felt the
'* bitter fruits of the sin of ray mother Eve ; that part
*' of the sentence being fully fulfilled, / icill greatly
" multiply thy sorroio; in sorrow thou shalt bring
"forth. The peril and danger were much greater
*• than ordinary, so that there was but a step between
'' me and death. My flesh and heart were ready to
*^ fail, and friends ready to despair; but God became
'* the strength of my heart and my portion ; and I
*' trust he will be so for ever. But behold, what
*' have these sheep done? — O Adam, Adam! what
*' hast thou done ! My comforts are taken away
'* before I had well received them. Was it all lost
** labour ? Surely no : I have good hope that Heaven
" is something fuller for my babe. I shall go to her,
" but she shall not return to me. My God is instead
" of all to me ; and were he not mine, sure it were
** impossible to bear up without sinking under those
** pains I endured. But the mercy swallowed up
" the affliction, and rejoiced against judgement. I
" have often promised to love him, and to live to

136 MEMOIRS OF

" him ; and I do it once more." ^' What need," she
would often say, in reference to this event, '' have
*' mothers to pray for their children before they are
" born !"

She had afterwards several children, who were
spared to her ; and her affectionate solicitude as a
mother is conspicuous in her letters. '* I know,"
she writes to a friend, '* you rejoice with us when
" we rejoice. That you may do so, you must know
" how it is with us. As yet, health and peace are
" continued; the nursery prospers, and the little
" ones ; angels watch over us continually. The
'' tediousness of nursing, we owe to sin : that which
'^ sweetens it, is, the hope that some of our children
'* may glorify God in the world." And again : '' It
" comforts me as to nursing inconveniences, that
'' bringing up of children, lodging strangers, and
" washing the saints' feet, are put together as good
" ivorks. 1 Tim. v. 10." Her tender care of two or-
phans, the relations of her husband, which the
providence of God brought into ' their family, was
another amiable trait in her domestic character.
^' The virtuous woman," pithily remarks Matthew
Henry, " will look well to the ways of her household,
" and yet not neglect the ways of her heart." This
was strikingly illustrated in Mrs. Hulton. Cheerful,
active, frugal, and charitable, she made it appear
that she found the ways of wisdom pleasantness,
and her conversation was well adapted to win " those
" who are without. Her evenness and composure
under all events, were very exemplary. " One should
" seldom or never see her ruffled or disturbed by
" any provocation, lifted up with any joy, or cast
*' down with any sorrow." Yet was she far from
being insensible, as her zeal to promote works of
piety and charity, and her readiness to stretch forth
her hand to the needy, amply testified. She visited
the widow and the fatherless in their affliction, and
kept herself *' unspotted from the world,"

MRS* ANN HULTON. 137

A letter which she wrote to one of whom she had
heard something scandalous, taking care that it
should not be known from whom it came, is too
characteristic and instructive to be omitted.

- Mr.

" To ease myself, and, if it might be, to do you
good, is my design in writing this. 1 having joined
with you in Gospel ordinances, cannot hear of your
fall without fear and trembling. Very loath I was
to believe it; speak of it I may not : — * tell it not in
Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askalon;' but
first to yourself, whom I cannot expect to inform of
that which you know not, but remind you of that
you do know,— that the prevailing love of God in the
heart will no way consist with the love and liking of
any sin. Whoever they be that name the name of
Christ, and do not depart from iniquity, I am sure
their profession will carry them but a little way, at
furthest but to heaven's gates : dissembled piety is
double iniquity, and shall receive greater damnation.
I do wonder how, and with what face, any one can
appear before God, among his people, in solemn or-
dinances, that is yet resolved to go on in sin. Con-
sider, you may deceive us that join with you, but
not Him that searcheth the heart, and knows what is
in man. Is your spot the spot of God's cliildren?
It is true, David fell foully; and I fear some have
encouraged themselves in sin by his example ; but
let them consider, it was once, — in an hour of tempt-
ation,— and it cost him dear. He came home by
weeping cross, and I believe he would not for his
kingdom have repeated the sin : after which, he had
scarce a good day. Wherefore is his sad fall re-
corded, but that all people may take heed oi' entering
into temptation, and watch and pray that they may
not? Is it a light matter that religion is so much re-
flected on? By your means the blessed name of
Jesus Christ suffers. People say, ^ Yea, they are all

138 MEMOIRS OF

alike ;* whereas, God knows, as you have opened the
mouth of the wicked, you have saddened the hearts
of the godly, who mourn in secret for your miscar-
riages. May I advise you, nay, doth not the word
of God command you, to remember whence you are
fallen, and to repent; and let your repentance be
public, as your fall hath been. There is yet hope if
you return, but none if you go on : there is a foun-
tain opened for poor sinners, to wash from sin and
from uncleanness, but then you must look up to
Him whom you have pierced, and mourn. I know
not what frame you are in, but God knows, this
comes from the true love I bear to your soul and
the interest of religion, which greatly suffers : offences
do come, and will come, but woe to them by whom
they come ! Can there be baser ingratitude than to
make Him suffer hy us, who suffered so much /or us ?
Do you thus requite the Lord ? Dare any come to
the table of the Lord for a cloak to vile practices ?
O profound madness ! Is the holy Jesus a patron of
sin? Is Christianity a bare name? No, I will never
believe it ! What shall I say? Return unto the Lord,
for you have fallen into iniquity : take with you
these words, and say. Take aioay all iniquity. Hosea
xiv. 2. I shall cease speaking to you, but not pray-
ing for you, who am

" Your soul's Friend."

Mrs. Hulton, and her sister Mrs. Radford, died
within a few weeks of each other, and within little
more than a year of their eminent father. Soon
after the death of her sister, Mrs. Hulton thus writes
to her sister Savage.

" The good tidings we have had of your safe deli-
" very," (which was the next day after her sister
Radford's death,) '* and that God was to you a pre-
*' sent help, and both root and branch are spared,
*' mixeth our song of judgement with mercy, and God
" hath set the one over against the other. We have

MRS. ANN HULTON. 139

*' been continued together many years ; and after the
*' crown fell from our head, God let us alone another
'* year also : but now the knot is broken. O for a
'* sense of Divine displeasure in this dispensation,
*' and wisdom to spell out the meaning thereof! Fo7'
^' all this, his anger is not turned away^ but his hand is
" stretched out' still. Dear sister Tylston is very
" weak. We want our Aaron, the priest of the family,
" who would have stood between the living and the
" dead, that the plague might be stayed. God is
" angry, and I am not yet humbled as I should be
" under the mighty hand of God ; and a mighty
" hand indeed it is. O, pray for me that I may be
'* more so ! I find there is no putting off the great
'' work of closing with Christ till sickness and death
'* come, for that is a very unfit time. And when it
" is done, I see it is not easy then to have the comfort
" of it."

The following account of her last illness is taken
from the memoir drawn up by Mr. Matthew Henry.

'* She was at public ordinances both morning and
*' evening on the Lord's day, August 29 ; she had
" been with her relations, who were ill, the day before,
'^ and that day also. Though the distemper had
*' seized her a day before, yet she kept it to herself,
'* as loath to be taken off by it from her work and
'* duty. But that night it appeared that she was
" under the violent assault of a high fever ; the
'' alarm of which she received with her usual even-
'* ness and composure of spirit ; and though she
*' seemed from her first arrest to have received the
^* sentence of death within herself, yet she was not
** at all disturbed at it, but spake of her circum-
*' stances with much cheerfulness. She was exceed-
" ingly afllicted with pain in her head, which quite
** deprived her of rest, and sleep departed from her
'* eyes.

*' On Monday she sat up most of the day, spoke of

140 MEMOIRS OF

'* her spiritual state with great humility and self-
" diffidence, repenting of sin, yet rejoicing in Christ
'^ Jesus : she said, she was afraid of saying too much
^' of her hope and comfort, because the heart is de-
" ceitful.

'' All that week, she continued worse, (notwith-
*' standing all means used,) but kept in a very pa-
*' tient, submissive, heavenly frame. When asked
*' how she did, she answered, ^ Better than I deserve/
" Often she said, ' I know whom I have trusted/ She
'* desired to have the beginning of Isaiah xliii. read
'' and opened to her, — that Scripture which Mr. Bil-
" ney the martyr supported himself with, — When
" thou passest through the waters, I ivill be with thee,
** She desired pardon for her omissions in the duty
'* of her relations. The following sentences she ut-
'* tered :

" *I am not weary of living, but I am weary of
*' sinning ; I would live as Christ lives, and where
" Christ lives, and that I am sure will be heaven.^

" ' There are many passages in the Psalms not so
" proper for us but at such a time as this ; as that,
" Myjiesh and my heart fail, hut God is the strength
" of my heart and my portion for ever.^

" * Let none think the worse of religion or of our
" family worship, for the afflictions that are in our
" families, nor have a hard thought of God, for, how-
** ever it be, yet God is good.'

'' When her pain and extremity were great, she
*' said, ' I know the great God can do me no wrong.
" Who would desire to go so many steps back, which
^* must some time or other be gone over again, when
*' now I have but one stile more, and I shall be at
" home?'

" ' I have hope in my death, for Christ hath said,
'* Because I live, ye shall live also.'

" ' I have distrusted God, and am ashamed of it,
'* for God is truth.'

^' ' Now for a promise.'

MRS. ANN HULTON. 141

** ' I hope this is no surprise/

** * You are miserable comforters, but Jesus Christ
" is my abiding portion/

" * I shall now be gathered to my people, and I
** have loved those that are godly, both poor and
" rich/

" ' Blessed be God for the Scriptures now/

" Towards Saturday night she grew delirious ; yet
" even then, it was evident her heart was upon
" nothing so much as God, and the things of her
'* soul ; speaking often, with a smiling, cheerful coun^
" tenance, of psalms of praise, and hymns of joy/'

*' While she was under this disturbance, she often re-
** collected herself with this word, — * Here is nothing
*' but Tahu and Bohu, (referring to Genesis i. 2.)
*' confusion and emptiness, but it will not be so long/

" After eight days conflict with her distemper, on
'' Monday, September 6, 1697, between the hours of
*' seven and eight in the morning, she fell asleep in
'' the Lord.

" She was buried, September 8, in St. Bridget's
** church, attended to the grave by abundance of
" true mourners, with whom her memory is, and
" will be, very precious/'

142 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. ESTHER BULKLEY.

On Friday, April 24, 1807, died at West Bromwich,
in Staffordshire, in the 87th year of her age, Mrs.
Esther Bulkley. This lady was grand-daughter, and
the last survivor of the immediate descendants, of the
Reverend Matthew Henry, " whose praise is in all
*' the churches." Mrs. Savage and Mrs. Hulton
were, consequently, her great-aunts. Her great-
grandfather, the Rev. Philip Henry, was a man of
exemplary piety, learning, and talents ; and his rank
and connexion in society were of the most respectable
order. The family of the Henrys were scarcely more
distinguished by their religious character, than by
their engaging courteousness and urbanity of manners.
In ail these respects, and in whatever was appropriate
to the female character, the deceased was the faithful
and amiable representative of her ancestors.

To delineate with even tolerable fidelity this excel-
lent woman, would be to produce, in some degree,
the effect of a personal acquaintance with her ;
which, however slight, never failed of procuring for
her the tribute of esteem. Her person was interest-
ing ; diminutive, delicate, and valetudinary, yet,
indicative of charming vivacity. Her countenance
exhibited a set of striking features, illuminated by
intelligence and benevolence, yet full of dignity ;
grave, approaching to solemnity, but placid, cheerful,
serene, and happy. Her manners, though not with-
out a mixture of that punctilious precision which is
thought to characterize those of her sex who are less
connected than others by social and domestic affini-
ties, (for she died unmarried,) were yet highly
engaging. They were strikingly decorous, but ani-
mated and affectionate ; timid, and tremblingly con-

MRS. ESTHER BULKLEY. 143

scientious, yet affable, and, to her near acquaint-
ances, friendly and confidential.

The qualities of her mind were such as would
naturally be sought for under this exterior. They
were the produce of Divine cultivation, in a soil
Divinely prepared and rendered favourable to their
growth ; the fruits which are brought forth a
hundred-fold from good seed sown in good ground.
Her early connexions were scarcely more propitious
to genuine religion, than were the future circum-
stances and habits of her life, to its growth and im-
provement. Mrs. Bulkley was born in London,
Nov. 16, 1720. Her father, Mr. Thomas Bulkley, a
native of Lymington, in Hampshire, was a silk-
mercer in Ludgate Street. He died when she was
very young. The conduct of her education, there-
fore, devolved upon her mother ; and those who
have observed the influence of the maternal character,
and of maternal care, when assiduously employed
in the formation of the youthful mind, will not be
surprised that the child of the daughter of Matthew
Henry should be successfully trained in the footsteps
of her forefathers.

In a brief record of the changes of her residence,
which she calls " An account of her various wander-
*' ings during an abode of forty-five years in this
" wilderness,'' it appears, that at the age of ten,
when she was residing with her mother in the family
of Sir John Hartopp, at Epsom, ** Divine grace
'' directed the wanderer to take the first feeble and
*' too oft remitting steps towards Canaan :" these are
her own words. At fifteen, having by the death of
her mother become an orphan, she returned into her
family, and went to reside with three aunts, the Miss
Henrys, at Chester. Two of these ladies marrying,
she removed from Chester to Wem, in Shropshire ;
and from thence, in 1748, to West Brorawich, where
she passed nearly the whole of the remainder of her
life. The paper just now mentioned concludes thus:

144 MEMOIRS OF

*' October 30, 1770. Removed to Hill Top, (a part
'' of West Bromwich,) from whence I wait my last
** remove." And thence, in fact, it was made, but not
till a period which little entered into the Writer's
contemplation. Her constitution was delicate, and
her health so extremely precarious, as to afford
reasonable ground for her constant expectation of
her final change ; — an expectation entertained with
a calmness of mind which displayed, in a striking
degree, the influence of evangelical religion. At
West Bromwich, she was still among her family
connexions. Her two aunts had been married to
two respectable gentlemen, brothers, of the name of
Brett, who resided in this village ; and there also
those amiable women exchanged their earthly for an
heavenly abode.

The life of a single lady, spent in the retirement of
a village, can offer but few incidents requiring parti-
cular notice ; but the features of such a character as
Mrs. Bulkley's, must create some degree of general
interest. The sweetness of her manners, her vivacity,
and her active beneficence, procured her the esteem
of persons in all ranks. Her humility and diffidence
were equalled only by her actual proficiency in the
graces of the Christian temper and life. Her attach-
ment to the ordinances of religion, and her diligent
improvement of them, discovered the secret of her
attainments. Devotion was her element : she had a
lively zeal for public worship, and for the purity and
prosperity of the ministry, and of the church univer-
sally. She was fond of reading. Her Bible was
her companion, her friend, and her counsellor. Her
grandfather's Exposition, and the manuscript notes
of sermons, &c. which had been preserved in the
family, were her constant perusal. Upon these,
and the older writers on practical religion, she
employed much of her time. Biography, and the his-
tory of eventful periods, interested her even at a very
advanced period of her life. Her conversation was

MRS. ESTHER BULKLEY. 145

interesting and instructive, and her epistolary com-
munications remarkably so. The talent for writing
which she possessed, rendered her correspondence
easy and pleasant, to her latest years. The live-
liness of her conceptions, and peculiar felicity of
expression, imparted to her familiar letters an irre-
sistible charm ; whilst the warmth of her affection,
her solicitude for the happiness of her friends, and
her exalted piety, rendered them lessons of sound
morality and religious instruction.

In adverting to herself, and her own experience
and history, her predominating sentiments were
those of gratitude to the Preserver of a life so long
protracted beyond her utmost expectations ; and so
highly distinguished, as she considered it, by unde-
served mercies. To a friend, who was in the habit
of writing to her on every anniversary of her birth,
she thus commences one of her answers, having then
entered on her 86th year: — *' So it pleases the
** Almighty to permit me once more to take up my
" pen, in a thankful acknowledgment of the recep-
** tion of your favours of the 15th and 16th instant.
*' I am ashamed to think that the lengthening out of
" so unprofitable a life as mine, should engage so
** much of your attention : that it should occupy
" much of my own with serious reflection, is right,
" both in humiliation and thankfulness.

" Still has my life new wonders seea

" Repeated every year ;
" Behold, my days that yet remain,

" I trust to that Almighty carer'^

'* I have abundant cause for daily and hourly
** thanksgiving, that these days of old age are not as
** yet attended with extreme pain or violent illness.
" Under all my infirmities, it is a constant and stand -
*' ing consolation to me, that my God knows my
'* frame,

" And does no heavy load impose
" Beyond the strength that he bestows :"
VOL. II. H

146 MEMOIRS OF

^' and, by Divine assistance, I endeavour, by faith,
" to look beyond the present scene, and excite myself
" to be a patient vi^aiting servant ; trusting, through
'' the hope the Gospel gives, that He who has
^' hitherto so mercifully guided me by his counsel,
'' w^ill conduct me through death's gloomy shades,
" gilded by his presence, to that world where there is
*' fulness of joy/'

She suffered no sensible declension of her powers
through several of her last years. For some months
before her decease, the faculties of sight and hearing
were impaired; but vshe remained the same lively,
intelligent, and pleasant companion. Her departure
was an easy and quiet transition from earth to
heaven. Her mind was exceedingly calm at the first
approach of the disorder. She said, " God is doing
^' his own work. Welcome the will of God !" She
was buried at West Bromwich, on Wednesday, the
39th of April, 1807.

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 147

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD.

Anna, Countess of Seafield, the eldest daughter of
Sir William Dunbar of Durn, son to the Laird of
Grangehill, and Janet Brodie his wife, grandchild of
the Lord Brodie, was born in the year 1672, and
bred up virtuously from her infancy by her parents,
and particularly by her grandmother. Lady Dunbar,
who was a virtuous and pious woman, and took care
to instil into her grandchild's mind a sense of piety
and devotion from her very infancy. There appeared
in her, from her childhood, a sweetness of temper
and disposition which made her agreeable to all that
saw her, and which was always observable in her to
the last.

When she was a young girl with her parents, her
mother would have had her learn housewifery ; but
her inclination led her rather to read, and therefore
she stayed mostly in her closet, and gave herself
much to reading, and still avoided the company of
the servants, having an abhorrence of the profaneness
and ribaldry with which they are ready to defile one
another's ears, and pollute their hearts. In this
sense, one's great enemies are oftentimes those of
one's own house ; and children, in their younger
years, are greatly corrupted by the example and
speeches of servants.

Her parents, knowing how ready young people are
to corrupt one another, and that one of the best
means to keep them from evil is to preserve them
from the occasion of it, chose not to send her to the
city, to the women's schools, according to the ordi-
nary custom, there to be trained up in the things
which become those of her own age and quality to
learn ; but to keep a virtuous woman within theiir

H 2 /

148 MEMOIRS OF

house to attend their daughter, and instruct her irj
such things as were fit for her to learn.

She began very early to read good and devout
books, and took delight to hear them read to her ;
and when a portion of some of them had been read,
she would retire to her closet, and was often observed
there on her knees in prayer to God. When she was
about eight years of age, while reading the holy
Scriptures, she happened to read these words, " The
^' wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations
'' that forget God." On which, reflecting on her
own sinful state, she was struck with great terror,
looking on herself as one of those against whom this
is threatened. In this state her grandmother did
greatly comfort her ; and when she would be in the
greatest anguish, these two passages of holy Scripture
gave cure and relief to her spirit : ** One day with
" the Lord is as a thousand years ; and a thousand
" years as one day. When the wicked turneth away
'' from his wickedness which he hath committed,
" and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall
" save his soul alive." However, the deep impres-
sion of this threatening remained on her spirit for
several years.

While she was with her parents, her mother was
visited with a severe and long sickness, during which
she constantly attended her, and ministered to her
in every thing, sitting up by her in the night to serve
her The seeing her mother so afflicted, and the
apprehensions of her death, and the solitary nights
she spent in attending her, made her very thoughtful ;
so that she employed them much in reading the
Scriptures and devout books, and came thereby to
have a deep sense of her duty to God, and received
her parent's blessing for her so pious care of her ;
of the good of all which she was afterwards very
sensible.

In the sixteenth year of her age, she was married
to the Hon. James Ogilvie, second son to the Earl oi

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 149

Findlater, who was afterwards created Earl of Sea-
field ; and whose eminent parts appeared in the dis-
charge of two great offices of state, that of secretary
-of state, and that of lord high chancellor. When he
came first to ask her for his wife, her father having
told her of it the night before, some of her acquaint-
ances pressed her to look out of her window to see
him while he alighted, for she had never seen him,
but she would not do it. When he first addressed
her, she gave him no other return but that she was to
obey her parents, and be directed by them.

The entering so young into the married state,
where she foresaw so many difficulties, made her
very thoughtful, and therefore she had recourse to
God, and begged earnestly counsel and direction
from him. And this, she said, she did afterwards in
all her difficulties, and that she found God was
pleased to direct her and bring her through them she
knew not how. When she was first married, her
husband had but a narrow fortune. Although he
had the prospect of being his father's heir, (his elder
brother, though alive, being very infirm,) yet, the
estate of the family was under such burdens, that it
was scarcely better than none at all. This made
her give great application to a careful and prudent
management. But it pleased God to bless them
afterwards with considerable wealth ; and his lordship
being for the most part from home, committed to
her the care and management of his estate, which
trust she discharged with exemplary fidelity.

Though her husband, being employed in public
affairs, was, for the most part, abroad, yet she kept
still at home, being careful to educate and bring up
her children in virtue and piety, and looked well to
the ways of her household, and ate not the bread of
idleness : a rare example for the ladies of this age.
She was most careful to nip the first buds of vice
that appeared in her children. She constantly incul-
Kiated to them the heinousness of disobedience to

150 MEMOIRS OF

God ; and would not forgive them any offence, till
they had first earnestly begged pardon of God.
And she made them always conceive, that the reason
of their obedience to her commands, was that it was
the will of God, and he commanded it. Her eldest
son, in his childhood, when about five or six years
of age, having learned from the servants to take the
name of God in vain, she wrought in him such a
sense of the baseness and heinousness of that crime,
that ever afterwards he had a horror of it. At
another time, about the eighth or ninth year of his
age, she having given him a little money to carry to
a beggar whom she saw at the gate, he was tempted
by a boy of the same age with himself, to buy figs
with it. This coming to her ears, she so laid before
him the heinousness of this sin, the greatness of the
theft he had committed in robbing the poor, the
dreadfulness of the account he must have to give at
the last judgment for this uncharitableness, when we
shall be judged by Jesus Christ according to our
charity or want of it ; and did so inculcate upon him
the thoughts of death and judgment, heaven and hell,
as made him to tremble, and gave him a deep sense
of that charity and compassion which we ought to
have for the poor and miserable. There was nothing
she was more careful to curb in her children than the
least inclination to lying or deceit. She was also
careful to suppress in them the least inclination to
pride and self-conceit. And when she found them
lifted up, she would take occasion to humble them,
and so to point out to them their faults as to mortify
their pride.

Though it was her care to make no show in her
devotion, and not to be seen of men ; yet, for the
most part, she constantly retired thrice a day for
prayer and meditation on the holy Scriptures ; and
in particular on the Lord's-day in the afternoon ; and
frequently took in some one of her children with
her, keeping her child under her arm while she

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 151

prayed with great devotion; and afterwards would
sit down and speak seriously to the child of the
obedience and love he owed to God, the duty of
depending upon him, and having recourse to him by
prayer on all occasions, repenting and confessing his
sins before him. And she would then reprove him
mildly of any particular faults she thought he was
guilty of, and recommend to him the particular
duties he ought to perform : and especially to employ
the Lord's-day in reading and meditating on the
holy Scriptures and in prayer. She would then
dismiss the child to get by heart a portion of a
psalm, or some other part of the holy Scripture.
She accustomed the children, from their infancy, to
pray morning and evening, and recommended to
them, before they fell asleep, to call to mind some
passage of Scripture, and meditate upon it; and
when they awoke in the morning, to do the same.

About a year after their marriage, they came to
live with the Earl of Findlater, her husband^s father,
at his house of Cullen ; where, the Countess of
Findlater being deceased, the whole care of the
family was committed to her ; in the management
of which she discovered a wonderful prudence and
discretion, far beyond what could have been expected
from a young lady of eighteen years of age. There
were in the family, besides the lady and her own
husband, the Earl of Findlater, his eldest son, the
Lord Deskfoord, the earl's two daughters, both of
them older than herself, and a younger son ; and
these were of such different tempers and interests,
that it was not easy to oblige one without disobliging
the other; and yet, this young lady so lived among
them, as to obtain the esteem and good-will of all,
and to avoid a concern in their little quarrels and
resentments. She heard them complain of each
other, without offending the person complained of,
and was displeasing to none of them.

The Earl of Seafield had been in office several

162 MEMOIRS OF

years, both in Edinburgh and London, before he
obhged his lady to leave her country-house to come
to live with him at court or in the city. The ladies
used to express their surprise that she lived still in
the country, and concluded her lord was ashamed to
bring her to the court and the city, because of her
rural breeding. They earnestly pressed him to bring
her up, and they pleased themselves with the fancy
of the sport and divertisement they should have in
the manners, speech, conversation, and behaviour of
a country lass, and how odd she would look when
she was out of her element. She knew not what it
was to disobey her husband ; and as she was well
pleased to live in the country as long as he saw it fit,
so she made no scruple, upon his call, to come to the
city. Before she came first to Edinburgh, she had
never been in a town so remarkable as Aberdeen,
and therefore one would think every thing might
seem strange to her ; but, on the contrary, she did
not appear at all affected with the novelty of things.
When the ladies and others came to visit her, they
were surprised to find how much they had been mis-
taken in their opinion of her, and that, instead of
rural manners, they beheld a lady endued with all
the valuable accomplishments of the breeding of a
court and city, and tainted with none of their vices.
Her behaviour towards others was so courteous,
that never any one who saw her, of what quality
soever, thought her wanting in the respect due to
them. Whatever occasions offered of doing good
oflGlces to others, she was ready to embrace them.
In conversation, she had an easiness of expressing
herself in proper words, without the least affectation.
She was so well versed both in ancient and modern
history, and in the present state of Europe, and in
matters of religion, that no subject of conversation
did usually occur to which she was a stranger. She
had nothing of the coquetry of the age ; her beha-
viour in all things was perfectly modest and un-

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 153

?afiPected ; and both in Scotland and England, in the
opinion of the most discerning persons, she obtained
the character of one of the most accomplished ladies
in Britain, and had the good will and esteem of all
ranks of people.

The Earl of Seafield being engaged in the interest
and service of the court at the time when the dis-
contents of the nation swelled to a great height, he
became one chief butt of their displeasure, which is
the ordinary fate of ministers of state. His lady on
all occasions stood up for the honour and interest of
her husband, and to vindicate him from the reproaches
cast upon him ; and yet, nevertheless, retained the
general good will, so that when the rabble arose at
Edinburgh with respect to Darien, and broke the
glass windows, and did other indignities to houses
which wanted illuminations ; though there were none
in the Earl of Seafield's house, where his lady then
was, and though they were on their march to commit
insolencies there ; yet, upon a suggestion made
them that none was there but this virtuous lady, and
that it would be ungenerous to treat her indiscreetly,
they turned their course another way.

In the year 1706, her lord, then Chancellor of
Scotland, being about to return from court, and
having desired her to meet him at Edinburgh, while
she was making ready for the journey, she was seized
suddenly in her closet, at the moment that she was
employed in preparing to receive the sacrament on
the next Lord's-day, with a violent vomiting of blood,
which returned more than once, and brought her to
the very gates of death. God was pleased to call
her, not only by this sudden and unexpected stroke,
but by the checks and motions of his Holy Spirit ;
and she was struck with a deep sense of God's
wonderful mercies to her, and of her abuse of them.
She had before her the prospect of death and eter-
nity, and felt how unfit she was to enter into it.

On the review of her whole life, though she had

H 5

]54 MEMOIRS OF

not been guilty of what the world would account
heinous crimes, yet she found that she had been
seeking herself and her own reputation more than
God ; and saw what a difference there was between
that virtue which is founded on true humility and
the sincere love of God, and is the work of his
grace and Spirit, and that which is only the effect
of self-love. She was struck with deep remorse
that in all things she had sought herself more than
God, and by ardent prayers implored his mercy and
compassion for Christ Jesus' sake. And while she
was in the extremity of weakness, she caused her
eldest daughter to read to her the fifth chapter of
Matthew, and made so excellent a discourse on the
eight beatitudes therein contained, that it greatly
affected and left a deep impression on the spirits of
all who were present. She devoted herself wholly
to God, and begged earnestly, if it were his holy
will, that he would be pleased to spare her yet
awhile, even but for one vearmore. The Lord heard
her prayer, and, beyond the expectation of all, she
was restored to health, and had the least she desired
granted her, so that her soul was full of devout
adoration. And in this divine frame and disposition
of spirit, she wrote meditations on the Lord's prayer,
which are inserted in the manuscript. A few ex-
tracts from them will serve to mark their character.

" O holy Lord God, come then and rule in my
*' heart. Be my king, and establish thyself a throne
*' in my affections ; and govern my will that I may
'^ be a most obedient subject unto thee. O hasten
" the day when all knees shall bow before thee, and
" all tongues shall confess thy name, when the
" gospel shall shine gloriously, and Jew and Gentile
*' shall, in their heart and practice, acknowledge the
*' Messiah, and turn their affections to the great
" and mighty God."

" O God, I desire to give up my will unto thee,
'* and let thy will be done in and by me ; and not only

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 155

" in me, but in all that is mine. O pull down every
" thought that raiseth itself in disobedience to thee,
^* and every base imagination, that thy will may be
" fully obeyed, not only by me, but in all the earth.
'' Give thy enlightening Spirit, that thy will may ^e
" known, and that it may dissipate the tbi-^^'i^ clouds
" of iniquity that darken or go betwee'a thee and us.
*' Lord, let me no longer satisfy myself with praying,
'* Thy will be done ; but, by an actual giving myself
*' to be guided by thy revealed will, and by sub-
*' mission to thy providential will, may I follow thee
" in all thy steps.'*

" Lord Jesus, thou art Vie bread of life : give me
'' that bread which shall feed me to life everlasting;
" and grant, that as I cannot live without a depend-
'* ence on thee, so, I may never desire to live without
" it, but that the eyes of my soul may be always
" looking towards thee, and receiving with thankfiil-
*' ness my temporal and spiritual food from thy
** hands. O that I could give my heart entirely to
*^ thee ! Lord, I am a poor defiled wretch ; but it is
** by thy blood I must be cleansed, whose I am, and
" to whom I do resign myself, soul and body, and
" all that is mine. This is but what gratitude
" obliges me to, since he gave himself for sinners,
*' of whom I am the chief."

*' O holy Lord Jesus, grant that my passions may
" be subdued to thee, and that all my revenge and
'' anger may be against sin ; that I may strive,
*' through thy strength, to root it out of my heart ;
'^ that I may be a declared enemy to the devil, the
" world, and the flesh, whom I renounced in my
'' baptism, and have declared war against often in
** the vows which I have made to thee."

*' O keep me from relying on any thing but
" Christ, and him crucified, and on thy abounding"
" mercy. O holy Lord God, purge me from sin,
" and pardon the sins of my holy duties, my wan-
" dering and vain thoughts in prayer. O take away

156

MEMOIRS OF

** my hardness and stupidity of heart : possess my
** will, and fill my affections ! Thou art the only
*' object that is worthy of all love ! Thou only canst
'' satisfy a right-placed affection ! "
..Such are the excellent meditations which this
lady thein formed on this divine prayer; and they
manifest the . deep sense and feeling of her heart
with respect to\the greatness and goodness of God,
the infinite obliga\*.ions she had to love him with all
ler heart, her great \undutifulness to so good a God,
and the hopes she had in his mercy through Jesus
Christ, to which she flee s, yielding up her will wholly
unto his, and resolving, in the strength of his grace,
to live from henceforth wholly unto him, that he might
reign and rule in her heart, and no idol might find
any place there. Nothing of this manuscript was
known till a few days before her death, when she
desired one of her maids to look for such a paper in
her cabinet, and bring it to her, that some parts
of it being read to her, she might the more reproach
herself for not having walked answerably to such
powerful calls, and such solemn engagements.

The Countess of Seafield continued in a tolerable
state of health for about a year after her former
sickn'^^-.ss ; she was then seized again with the same
malady, and had the sentence of death in herself,
that she might not trust in herself, but in God who
raiseth the dead. She was deeply sensible how far
short she had come in answering her former call
from God, and her engagements to him ; and she
had recourse to his infinite mercy, begging he
would yet spare her to recover strength, before she
went hence. Her prayer was again heard, and her
spitting of blood was stayed. Recovering some
degree of bodily health, and being desired by her
lord to see him at Edinburgh, public affairs requiring
his return to court, she went thither and staid for
some time. She was here seized with a violent
cough, which continued till she was delivered of a

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 157

son. For a few days after this, she was more easy :
but, in a little time, the cough and the hectic re-
turned with more violence than ever.

Soon after her return home, being low in health
and in agony of mind, she happened to read that
passage of holy Scripture, 1 Thess. v. 16. '^ Rejoice
" evermore, pray without ceasing, in every thing
'' give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ
'* Jesus concerning you." She was thereby greatly
comforted; and the duty of continual resignation to
the will of God, and of continual prayer to him, was
thereby so pressed upon her, that she was led to
more frequent prayer, and to the entire surrender of
her heart to God. She complained, indeed, of fre-
quent distractions, but she begged that He would
accept the will for the deed ; and in all her agonies
and troubles, she was enabled to resign herself to
the Divine will, and to comfort herself thus : *' His
" wrath endureth but for a moment. In his favour
*' is life. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy
*^ cometh in the morning."

Some weeks after she was brought to bed, being
under great pain and weakness of body, and agony
of spirit, she asked her son, what apprehensions he
had of death, when of late he was so low in his
health at London and given over by the physicians,
whether he thought he should then die. He replied,
that he had not at that time any positive impression
on his spirit that he should ^\en die, as she seemed
to have, but was very ' icertain what the event
might be. On this, she asked what he then thought
of himself in case he should die. To which he
answered, that when he considered his own great
impurity, and called to mind many instances of it,
and also of his great ingratitude to God, notwith-
standing God's tender and continual care of him, he
judged that it was hardly possible he should ever be
admitted into his presence, or have any communion
with him ; but that when he was in these thoughts.

158 MEMOIRS OF

he happened, in reading his Bible, to meet with this
passage of Scripture : *' But let us who are of the
" day be sober, putting on the breast-plate of faith
'* and love, and for an helmet the hope of salvation ;
" for God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to
*' obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ, who
'* died for us that we may live w ith him ; " that this
immediately encouraged him to hope that, through
the merits of Jesus Christ, his sins might be done
away, and greatly comforted him ; and that after-
wards, looking a little further, he observed these
words : '* Rejoice evermore : pray without ceasing :
" in every thing give thanks : for this is the will of
*' God in Christ Jesus concerning you;'' which
words suggested to him how great reason he had to
be thankful for whatever might be the will of God
concerning him, since God had ever been so good to
him, notwithstanding his ingratitude and impurity ;
and since his will could not but be the best, that
therefore he should never let grief or melancholy
prevail over him, but should comfort himself with
his being commanded to rejoice evermore, and in
every thing to give thanks ; and that in all his in-
firmities of body and heaviness of mind, and tempta-
tions from the devil, the world, and the flesh, he
should always have recourse to the remedy which
God himself had prescribed to him, viz. to pray
without ceasing. He added, that on many oc-
casions afterwards, when he happened to be in any
of those circumstances, the remembrance of these
passages of Scripture had comforted and supported
him. On this his mother expressed a great deal of
joy, and said, that when she herself, in the last
winter, had been weak in health, and in great
anguish of mind on his account, the same passages
of Scripture had greatly refreshed her spirit. She
confessed she had been far from rejoicing in God's
will, and praying without ceasing; but she hoped
God would mercifully look upon her infirmities,

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 159

while she resolved, forgetting what was past, to do
the best for the future.

She had now a prospect of her approaching end,
and applied wholly to prepare for it. She abandoned
the concern of all other things, and was taken up
entirely w^ith the thoughts of death and eternity.
She often said, that it was a quite different thing to
meditate on death at a distance, and to behold it
just at the door. She was struck with a deep sense
of her undutifulness to God, of the mispending of
her time, of her having been an unfaithful steward
of what he had committed to her trust, of her
unfaithfulness to her former calls and solemn en-
gagements, and that now, when the cry was to go
out and meet the Bridegroom, she might have had
oil in her lamp, but she had slumbered and slept.
She continued for several days in great distress of
mind, judging and condemning herself, confessing
that she had sought to please herself more than
God, and that self-love and the cares of the world
had occupied her thoughts more than God, and
that she was not worthy of any regard from him.
Thus she poured out her soul before God day and
night, through a deep sense of her sins and a dread
of the Divine judgment; often saying, " There is
^' no peace to the wicked, saith my God." And
being told by some who visited her, that no repent-
ance was acceptable to God, but that which flowed
from the true love of God, and not from self-love
and the dread of hell, and she, doubting if hers was
any thing else, was ready to despond. And when,
to comfort her, it was told her, that she had led a very
virtuous life, and so had no reason to entertain such
fears, she said it was far from being so, and that she
had sought only to please herself. When bewailing
to one her sinful condition, saying, that although
God had preserved her from gross and scandalous
sins, yet, when she placed herself in God's presence,
and beheld his purity, she saw in herself nothing

160 MEMOIRS OF

but vileness, having sought only to please herself,
and not God ; it was said in reply, that she had
reason to bless God, who had opened her eyes to
see her own sinfulness, and that this was a token of
his great mercy to her; that though her sins were
great and many, yet, the Lord was " not willing
*' that any should perish, but that all should come
" to repentance;" " that he came not to call the
*' righteous, but sinners to repentance ; " that she
saw with what compassion Jesus treated sinners,
while he was upon earth — '* Daughter, be of good
'' comfort, thy sins are forgiven thee." '■ But,"
said she, ** I have mispent all my life ; and now no
" more time remains for me." It was told her, that
neither the greatness nor the multitude of sins
would exclude from God's mercy those who should
seek him and turn to him with all their hearts ; and
that although her time was now short, yet, she
ought to consider, that not only they who were
called at the third, sixth, and ninth hours received
their penny, but he also who was called at the
eleventh. She said, that " God had some years ago
** mercifully called her, and had she answered that
*' call, she might have been a grown Christian
" before now, but she had slumbered and slept*"
It was told her, that she had great reason to deplore
this ; but such was the infinite goodness and mercy
of God, that he continued yet to call her : *' Behold,
*' I stand at the door and knock : if any man will
" hear my voice, and open the door, I will come unto
*' him." — *' O my God," she said, *' I would open my
*' heart wholly to thee : come and take possession
'^ of it." Some, it was further argued, who had
been powerfully called, and yet had afterwards not
only slumbered, but fallen into grievous sins, have
been again called and found mercy. David had
been called in his youth, yet afterwards fell into
grievous sins; but God had mercy on him, and
granted him the grace of repentance and pardon.

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 161

Peter was called to be our Lord's disciple, and
followed him, but yet afterwards denied his Lord;
and when his Lord looked on him, he went out and
wept bitterly : and we see with what compassion
our Lord treated him : he did not so much as up-
braid him with his sin, but said, "" Simon, son of
" Jonas, lovest thou me? feed my sheep." — " I do
** not/* she observed, *' in the least distrust the
'* mercy, the boundless mercy and compassion of
" God ; but the deceitfulness of my own heart, which
*' makes me think I am penitent, when perhaps it is
'* only the fear of hell which affects me ; and should
*' I recover again, I should again slumber and sleep."
You have indeed reason to distrust yourself, it was
said to her, and we are bid to work out our
salvation with fear and trembling; but he that will
judge you is the Lord who died for you. Therefore
you are to resign yourself wholly to your merciful
God and Saviour, and to labour, by his grace, to
have the present temper of your heart all contrition,
all love, all adoration. God of his mercy has given
you this disposition at present, and he will not
break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking
flax, until he bring forth judgment unto victory.
He now has given you a heart to adore and love
him, and to abhor and hate yourself for having been
so undutiful to him. It is God who worketh this
holy disposition in your heart, and will perfect it
unto the end : and as to your fear, in case your
health be restored, of returning to a state of
slumber, the Lord will either strengthen you to
resist temptations, if he see it is for his glory to
continue you longer in this life, or he will remove
you out of the hazard of temptation. " His will,"
she said, ^' be done ! I have often entreated the Lord
*' to give me a token of his favour before I go
** hence ; but he leads me through this dark path
" of the valley and shadow of death." It was
replied to her, you have no reason to murmur at

162 MEMOIRS OF

this, but to bear it with patience. You are not
worthy of any comfort here ; and therefore, if he
think not fit to grant you any in this dark path, his
will be done. If he see it expedient for you, he will
not fail to grant it at last ; but this is the time of
your trial, and God sees it fit to visit you, not only
with bodily afflictions, but also with affliction of
spirit, for your greater purification, and to wean
your heart from the love of the world and of yourself,
and to make you more humble, and to let you see
the vanity of all earthly things, which can give no
ease to a wounded spirit, and to make you thirst
the more earnestly for God, and feel that nothing
can satisfy you without him. So, in the midst of
this darkness, you must still hope in God, even
against hope, resign yourself wholly to him, and
ardently love him. They tell of one of the fathers
of the desert, that a devout young man having com-
mitted himself to his conduct, to be trained up by
him in a divine life, the devil, transforming himself
into an angel of light, appeared to the father, and
bid him be no longer solicitous in training up that
youth, for he was ordained for eternal torment. The
old man was exceedingly distressed at this ; which
the youth observing, entreated to know the cause of
his grief, and having learnt it, he said, *' O let not
'' this trouble you, good father ; for whatever may
" become of me hereafter, I will only set myself to
*' love my God the more ardently while here, and to
*' praise him and rejoice in his goodness." At last
the old man was convinced it was a delusion, and
was comforted. The Countess then said, " O my
''.good God, I will ever praise thee; I will never
** cease to praise thee ; I hope only in thy mercy,
" and in the merit of my blessed Redeemer ; I
" resign myself wholly to thee ; I will never cease to
" love thee ; O take the full possession of my heart,
" and let never any creature enter there any more ! "
You must not, it was again said to her, be dis-

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 163

couraged, if the Lord should not presently grant
yonr request. Remember the Canaanitish wonian.
Jesus at first seemed to take no notice of her ; and,
when prevailed upon to speak to her, he seemed to
deny her request. Yet this was but to make her faith
and prayer the more ardent. Be not then discouraged,
but wait for God ; blessed are all they that wait for him.
" O what reason have I," she said, '* to wait for my
" God, who has waited for me so long, whose
" patience and long-suffering have been so great
" towards me ! Yes, my God, I will wait : thy will
*' be done, not mine!'^ Besides, it was added, you
must not despond, though God should not think
fit to grant you any token of his favour in this
world ; for our Lord Jesus, to support his followers
under such inward darkness and trials, was pleased,
even upon the cross, to suffer the eclipse of the
light of his Father's countenance, so that this
inward cross of spirit was more painful than the
outward one ; which made him cry out, '^ My God,
" my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" If he who
knew no sin, yet became sin for us, underwent such
agonies to bring us to God, why should we think it
strange if God should see fit thus to bruise us, that
the old man, self, and corrupt nature, may be cruci-
fied in us ? On this, the Countess said, " O my
" Saviour, was this thy state ! O why should I com-
" plain, who deserve not the least favour? Did
** Jesus on the cross cry out, as one forsaken of his
** God, and shall I complain at wanting the sense of
'* his favour? O my God, I resign myself wholly to
" thee : thy will be done, not mine. Thou canst do
" nothing amiss. I cast myself down at his feet : if
" I perish, it shall be there. Though he slay me,
*' yet will I trust in him. I will never cease to
" praise him, never cease to love him.'*

These conversations passed about ten or twelve
days before her departure out of this life ; and it
pleased God to give her from that time a more quiet

164 MEMOIRS OF

resignation to his will, and a humble hope in his
infinite mercy, and her heart seemed always with
God, and in a Divine frame. She had a profound view
of the purity of God, combined with a deep sense of
her own vileness ; and these considerations made her
sometimes despond, as being wholly unfit for commu-
nion with God. But she would be again comforted,
and say, '' Yet my tongue shall never cease to praise
*' him while I have a being." She had deep views
also of the approaching judgment; so that when
spoken to about worldly affairs, she would say,
** What signifies all this to me ? I am shortly to
" appear before my Creator and Judge."

After having been asked about her spiritual state,
or after silent prayer to God, she would sometimes
express great spiritual delight ; but she would then
check herself, under an apprehension that she was
deluding herself, and say, that it was nothing but pas-
sion (meaning natural emotion) in her, and not a true
settled principle of religion, for she had often had such
fits of devotion before. She therefore begged ear-
nestly that God would settle a solid principle of re-
ligion in her heart ; that Christ might dwell in her
heart by faith, and she might be rooted and grounded
in Divine love. She never tasted any thing without
begging God's blessing, or having some ejaculation,
as, " Most blessed God, I do not deserve this, who
'* am an unworthy wretch ; but thou art good and
** dost good : Lord, give me thy blessing with it !"

She had a deep sense of her sins, and was desirous
to take shame to herself, and to acknowledge them
before all, expressing great indignation against herself
on account of them. *' What value I," said she,
** my reputation? I will confess my sins, for they are
" great and many. I am sorry that any one should
** have thought me good. I loathe and abhor myself
** for my sins/' There were two sins which she espe-
cially acknowledged with great grief and indignation
against herself. One was, the mispending of her

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 165

time, in being so much taken up about the cares and
concerns of the world ; the other, in extending her
pity and her hands so little in the relief of the poor.
She said, that when first married to her husband,
their circumstances were but mean in the world ; yet
God had since blessed them with a plentiful fortune,
and that she had not, as she ought to have done,
clothed the naked, and fed the hungry, and relieved
the miserable ; and though it was true she looked
upon herself as intrusted with all by her husband,
yet, both of them ought to have considered that they
were but stewards intrusted by God, and she might
have relieved the necessitous without wronging her
husband.

She was most patient in her trouble, had nothing
of fretfulness, but was calm and easy to all about her.
She expressed an ardent love to God, and desired to
be wholly his, and prayed that he might take the
entire possession of her heart. She would often say,
" O my God, take thou the full possession of my
** soul : shed abroad thy love in my heart : fill it with
thy love ; let there be no room for the world ; let
'* nothing of this world obtain admission, O thou my
'' God, my Lord, my all !" She often repeated these
words, ^* Peace on earth, good-will to men. O how
" great is thy good- will towards men !" She said she
loved all the world, all mankind, all her neighbours,
and only hated herself.

About six or seven days before her death, she sent
for her children, that she might give them her last
advice and blessing. To her son. Lord Deskfoord,
she said, that he must be as a mother to the rest, and
see to their education ; and prayed that God would
bless him and direct him in all his actions. If there
were any worldly thing she desired, it was that the
family might stand in his person. But, checking
herself, she said, *' We ought not to seek worldly
'* things of God f adding, that- she was not worthy
that there should be the least remembrance of her

166 MEMOIRS OF

after death. She only begged, therefore^ that God
would give him a heart in every thing to love and fear
him. To Lady Betty she said, she had been her
idol from her infancy, and that she had loved her but
too well. As she must now be mistress of the family,
she bade her labour for a serious and composed
temper of mind. She urged it upon her never to be
idle, but always to be employed, and to spend much
of her time in praying and reading devout books.
Above all things, she charged her continually to
love and fear God, and both in great things and in
small to seek counsel from Him ; and she would see
that all her difficulties, on all occasions, would vanish,
and God would give her wisdom without her know-
ing how : and this, she said, she had proved by her
own experience. To Lady Janet she said, that she
had to complain of her temper as stubborn and per-
verse. She charged her to become more gentle and
kind, and in particular to be affectionate and atten-
tive to her sister, and to seek God with all her heart,
and to look on all the advice given to her sister as
given to herself. To Master George she said, that
as he could not understand any advice she could give
him, she should only pray God to bless him, and to
make him a good man ; and, calling for his governor,
she charged him to instruct him in spiritual as well as
temporal things, and earnestly to inculcate them on
him. Then, looking on them all, she said, '* Ye are no
** more mine ; ye are God's." After which, turning
towards her mother, who was leaning on the back
part of the bed, and observing her very sorrowful,
and bitterly lamenting her approaching death, she
said, ** Mother, part willingly with me, for you see
" I have parted willingly with mine."

She was very anxious that her heart should have
no attachment but to God. When some inconside-
rate person told her hastily that my Lord Seafield
would be there in a few hours, she felt considerable
emotion j but, recovering herself, she said, " What !

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 167

*' shall the creature yet interpose between me and
*' God ? Begone, all ye creatures ! I have vowed it. I
" have renounced you all, and given up myself to God.
" I have vowed, O Lord, that I will be entirely thine.
" Lord, take thou the full possession of my heart : fill
" every part of it with thy love.'* Formerly when
her husband had returned home after a long absence,
at the first meeting her spirits would have been in
such a commotion that she would have fainted away.
She w^as afraid lest any such weakness should seize
her now, and therefore still lifted up her heart to
God, begging that he would permit no creature to
share in it, When her husband came first into the
room where she lay, she received him in a manner
which did not discover any emotion, asked him of
his welfare, excused herself as to conversation be-
cause of her deafness, and entreated him to retire to
his chamber to refresh himself after such a wearisome
journey ; and when he had retired, she renewed her
ejaculations to Heaven, and said, '' Lord, strengthen
*' my spirit, and preserve my heart from straying one
'* hair-breadth from thee to any created thing, from
'' thee, my God, my all.*' She would often say,
" The day of my union with thee is at hand ; Lord,
" make me ready. If I perish, I will perish at his
*' feet. I will hold him fast. Though he should
*' slay me, yet will I love him. My tongue shall
" never cease to praise him while I have a being."
The second time her lord came to see her, she held
out her hand to him with a smile, and said, '* I am
" no longer yours ; I am God's : God bless you, and
** make you entirely his.*'

She was still affected with a deep sense of her
having been wanting in due compassion and charity
towards the poor. She therefore begged of her hus-
band that he would be pleased to erect an hospital
for the maintenance of four poor widows, of good re-
putation, who had children, where they might be
maintained, and live with their children till those

168 MEMOIRS OF

were capable of being put to service or a trade ; and
on tbe decease of any one of them, another might be
put in her room. To this he readily consented,
which gave her no small satisfaction. She blessed
God, who had disposed him to consent to it so
readily ; and she urged him to be rid of all public
affairs and attendance on a court, as being the bane
of all inclinations to true and solid virtue.

Her heart was now wholly turned to God and to
eternity ; and day and night, while she waked, for
she slept but little, she spent her time in ardent eja-
culations, or in reading or hearing some portion of
the holy Scriptures with great devotion. Her son
having about this time read a letter concerning the
love of God, was desirous it might be read to her, as
being well suited to the present disposition of her
heart. Having heard it with great attention, she said
she had read it over two several times before, and
wished nothing more than to have her heart wholly
moulded into the love of God : she had always re-
garded the love of God as the essence of religion.
Having caused them to read to her our Saviour*s
farewell sermon, she said, *' I shall shortly bid fare-
" well to the vanities of the world, and enjoy him
*' whom my soul loveth." When she awoke from
her slumberings, during which she had been troubled
with vain dreams, she said she should shortly behold
the glory of God : and she begged earnestly that
she might have no thought but of him, and that he
would inspire her with his Holy Spirit, that neither
sleeping nor waking, she might have any unholy or
unprofitable thoughts.

On the day she died, during a seizure of slight de-
lirium, while she lay apparently insensible, a minister
prayed over her, blessing God that he had turned her
heart wliolly unto him, and had taken possession of
it, and begging earnestly that God would rebuke
Satan, and cause him to depart from her : her spirit
was immediately composed, and she broke forth into

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 169

a most devout prayer and ardent adoration of God,
at which all who were present were greatly surprised.
Her husband drawing near to her, she held forth her
hand to him, and then fell into a little delirium again.
A short time after, a person present earnestly prayed
that Almighty God, the Creator of the world, would
have mercy on the work of his own hands ; that
Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world, would
save the soul that he had bought; that the Holy
Ghost, the Comforter, would support and comfort
her in this her last agony. When he had ended, she
broke forth into a divine rapture of adoration and
praise with her last breath : *' My Redeemer liveth :
*' praise to the Lord : Amen. Thou hast promised
" mercy ; thou wilt not leave me : praise to the
** Lord : Amen. Take me by the hand, O my Sa-
** viour, and lead me through the dark path unto the
" Father. O my God, leave me not. I know, O
" Christ, thou wilt not leave me. Thou never didst
** forsake a soul that was wholly given up to thee :
" praise to the Lord : Amen. Heavenly Father, into thy
*' merciful hands I commend my spirit. Thou know-
"' est that I have forsaken the world, and given my
** heart wholly unto thee. Come, and take posses-
" sioaof it. All I had in the world, they are thine:
** I give them unto thee ; do thou accept of them.
" I trust only in thy mercy, and in the merits of my
** blessed Redeemer : praise to the Lord : Amen.
'* Come, Lord Jesus, and lead me to the Father.
*' Heavenly Father, into thy merciful arms I com-
*' mend my spirit. Amen." With these words she
closed her eyes, and seemed to all present to be
yielding up her last breath ; and thus she continued
for some time, her pulse being quite gone. But in
a little time she opened her eyes again, and with an
air, as it seemed, of joy and wonder, she continued
looking upwards with a fixed gaze for near half an
hour. By degrees she let her eyes fall, shut them,

VOL. II. I

170 MEMOIRS OF

and yielded up her last breath. Those who were pre-
sent were not a little affected both with her last
words and her last looks, which they all beheld with
silent admiration ; and they were led to think that
God had been pleased to grant her the desire of her
heart, some special mark of his favour, in her passing
out of this world, to enter, we doubt not, into the joy
of her Lord.

LADY MARGARET STEWART. 171

LADY MARGARET STEWART.

This excellent lady was the wife of Sir Thomas
Stewart, of Coltness. After the birth of her twelfth
child, she found on the fourth day, that she was at-
tacked with a fever. Calling for her husband, she
told him her fears, both as to her sickness and her
spiritual state, and begged him to remember her con-
dition to the Lord, entreating him not to be peremp-
tory for her life ; " for I desire not to live," said she,
** but pray that I die not in darkness as to my souFs
** interest. The Lord hath often heard you for deli-
** verance to me when I have been past all hope, and
" has given me to you now. I beg that the Lord
'* would be with me, by his power and grace, through
'' this sickness ; and if he should leave me in this
" cloud, yet, I will not doubt the reality of many
** gracious manifestations of him that I have had, and
'* how that often he hath made me sincerely to resign
*' and give up myself heartily to him ; and now at
" this time I dare not, nor will not, deny his gracious
*' work. But O wrestle with God for me, that I die
" not in darkness V Thus she wept upon him, and
said, " Pray not for my life, for ye will be disap-
'^ pointed;" adding, **The devil is busy with me, say-
*' ing. Thou art nothing but a hypocrite, and art formal
*' in all thou doest. But the Lord knows my since-
" rity, which I hope he hath accepted."

Her fever was as yet little observed ; but all judged
that her anxiety about her soul helped it on, being
still remarked to be in spiritual exercises, and ever
praying, with great confessions and whisperings.

Mr. William Violand and Mr. John Inglis came in
to visit her, and held out to her the great and un-
speakable grace of God and of Christ, revealed in the

i2

172 M-iZMOIRS OF

gospel to poor lost sinners. After they were gone,
she called for her husband, and said, " Blessed be
*^ God, I have never heard any thing more refresh-
'^ ing, and of more power and weight." But the next
day, her sickness increasing, she cried out to her
husband, " O for assurance, if God would grant it to
" a poor sinner, that is longing and crying for it, and
^' looking to him for it !" This she expressed with
vehemence. Her husband answered : *' My dear,
*^ was not Christ always your choice, and preferable to-
" all things ? and dare you say before God that he
'^ was not so to you, and that he hath not determined
''you to make him your choice?" She cried out
more fervently, " O ! he was ever so, he was ever so
'^ to me, more desirable than riches, honours, plea-
" sures, crowns, and all things ! Lord, thou knowest,
*' whom have I in heaven but thee, or on earth that
'^ I desire besides thee? O that I were with thee,
** where I shall not sin or doubt any more ; where
*' the weary are at rest !" Which occasioned a
worthy Christian to say to her husband, " Can you
'* say that ever you heard her doubt after that dis-
*' course ?'' Which indeed she did not.

The next day, she was heard to pray very long,
and with fervour of spirit ; and toward the end she
breathed out these words : " Lord, thou who didst
** appear so wonderfully to my son, being but ten
*' years of age, to the admiration of all that saw or
" heard him, and were witnesses of his death ; Lord,
'* appear to me. Oh, it is true he was but a child,
'* who knew not what sin was, nor could sin as I have
*' done, who am thirty-seven years old ; but. Lord,
" upon whom thou settest thy love, sin will be no
" stop in the way."

The night before her death, she fell into a sweat,
which continued eight or nine hours together, so that
all had good hopes it might prove favourable ; but,
though she found herself thereby not a little refreshed,
yet, she still said it was in vain to expect her reco-

LADY MARGARET STEWART. 173

very. On hearing again from the doctors and others
present, that her condition was not so dangerous as
she apprehended, she called for her husband, and
said ; " My dear, you will be surprised : quit me,
^' for I have quitted you, and all my children, and
^' all the world ; I long to be with him.'^ The doc-
tor said, " Would you not be willing to abide with
** your husband and children, if it were the Lord's
" will?" She answered, '' I could submit to his will;
" but oh ! I long to be with him : that is better than
** all/' Then lifting "up both her hands, she said,
^' Now, O Lord, I come unto thee. Thou knowest
" that in my health I sought thee, though with great
^' weakness, yet, with a sincere heart; and how often
** have I given myself up unto thee with my soul and
*' heart; and I have nothing to look to in myself, but
" to thy free grace. O free, free love, I look to this
" for mercy. I look to thy righteousness, that im-
" puted righteousness. I look to that satisfaction
'* offered at Jerusalem for sinners. Thy blood cried
'^ far better things than that of AbeL O blessed
" imputed righteousness ! O blessed satisfaction ! T
** renounce my own righteousness: Lord, I come unto
'* thee : thou hast said, * Him that cometh unto me,
*' * I will in nowise cast out.' O free love ! Though
*' one might dare to die for a righteous man, yet,
" our Lord died for his enemies. O wonderful love !
*' Lord, thou knowest all things ; thou knowest that
*' I love thee : I must not quit my hold of thee."

She insisted long on such expressions to the com-
mendation of free grace; and that with such fervency,
as if her spirit would have gone forth with her words.
She was heard to say, *' Lord, thou hast given me
*' twelve children, and the third I gave unto thee, and
■" thou tookest him; and my seventh child I gave
** unto thee, and thou tookest him, and his sister
•** also ; and this my twelfth child I have given unto the
■" Lord ; the Lord bless him ; yea, and all my children
'■' I have given unto the Lord as soon as they were

174 MEMOIRS OF

'' born, and long before they were born ; and I have
" desired from the Lord for them these two things
*' only, that they may fear him, and that he may put
" his image on them. I never sought riches nor
'' honour unto them, but that the Lord would in his
*' good providence dispose them to employments and
" callings, whereby they may live honestly, and not
" be burdensome to friends." But such as were
about her, hearing her speak so easily, and still hoping
that she might recover, prayed her to be silent and
take rest. Whereupon she rai^d her voice and said :
*' Sirs, can ye believe this that I am to tell you ?
" This night I shall be with my son John. What is
" this 1 am saying of my son ! I will be this night
" with my God and my Lord Jesus Christ, and that
'' holy and glorious company."

After this, she again assured those that v/ere pre-
sent that her end was near ; but it could not be be-
lieved that it was so near, there being no outward
sign from which this nearness could be concluded.
Many had hopes, hearing her say to the doctor,
" For all this, my head is well, and I find my heart
'* whole." She was entreated to sleep, and not waste
her weak and wearied spirits ; but she refused, say-
ing, " Shall I sleep now, when I am going to die 1
'* 1 assure you, if I fall asleep, I shall never come out
" of it again :" which, indeed, a very few hours did
remarkably verify. At the same time, she said to
her husband, " My dear, you will be surprised."
Then she added with more earnestness to the rest,
'' Would you hinder me to speak now, when I have
** not above an hour to speak in this world ?"^ Which
one present hearing, took out bis watch, and shewed
to some standing by, who all said that it fell out just
as she had foretold. But being again importuned
to take rest, in respect that many still hoped,
because she had little or no pain, she said, with a
whole and sound voice, " Sirs, I tell you that this
*' night, when your sun g:oes down, my sun will arise

LADY MARGARET STEWART. 175

" and never go down : your sun will both arise and
" set upon you, but my sun will never go down ! O
** bright morning star !" After this, resolving to
speak to her children and relations, she raised up
herself as if she had had no sickness, but had been
to go about some work in health, and called for some
rose-water and vinegar, saying, *^ Let me refresh my
" spirits, that are weak, for what I have to do." She
bathed with her own hands her temples and face,
and breathed up some vinegar into her nostrils ; and
having entreated all to go out of the room except her
husband and children, she spoke to her children that
were come to years of maturity, one by one. Taking
up their natural dispositions, she wisely pressed them
to pray, and guard against such sins whereunto they
might be inclined, speaking to each of them so par-
ticularly and pertinently. Then she spoke to them
of Christian duties, whereof she enjoined the prac-
tice, with many godly persuasions; and then she
exhorted them against many vices and evils with
great authority, commanding them that they should
abstain from vain company, and that they should
stand to their education as they had been taught ;
adding, " Though you have not fallen into outward
*' pollutions, yet, that is nothing : * let him that
" * stands, take heed lest he fall.' I say to you
" before the Lord, Your sins, God shall set them in
*' order before you ; yea, you shall see them in the
" great day of the Lord as clearly set before you as
" the light that shines." Then speaking to them of
their learning and studies, she said ; " As for learn-
" ing and philosophy, fear lest it have the effect on
** you it hath on some, to turn you Atheists, or
" without religion. All the greatness, all the learn-
" ing in the world, what is it without grace! Re-
** member that word, ' Not many noble, not many
*' ' mighty, not many wise are called.' I say not
" this to discourage you from reading and learning ;

176 MEMOIRS OF

"■ but let it not make you neglect your duty. And
'■' I lay it upon you, and charge you before God,
^' and as you would meet me again with comfort, be
^' diligent in reading the Scriptures and prayer.
'* And satisfy not yourselves with your morning and
" evening prayers ; but I charge you in the sight and
*' presence of God, not to judge your religion to be
" true and sincere, if it carry you no further than
'' morning and evening prayers. In all these things,
" I say to you, that 1 shall be a witness against
'* you. Look not on these things, and what I say
" now, as upon instructions and reproofs given at
" another time. The words that I have spoken, are
" the words of a dying mother. I pray the Lord ye
" may never forget them ; which if ye observe and
*' do, God's blessing be upon you, and my blessing
'* I leave you.'' And then she added, '* I have good
'* thoughts concerning you;" and removing her hand
from off their heads, where she put it while she
blessed them, she thus parted with them, kissing
and blessing them.

After this, she spoke to her husband with all kind-
ness and tenderness, saying, he had been a kind
husband to her, entreating him to quit her freely, and
giving him many advices concerning the children ;
desiring that, as he feared the Lord, so he would
encourage them. After that, she called for her
mother and sisters, who were all present, and gave
them many directions and counsels ; suiting them,
with a holy prudence and discretion, both to their
inclinations and conditions. Then, thanking every
one of them, as they had been useful to her, and
begging pardon for the trouble she had given, she
exhorted them to a holy diligence in praying and
reading the Scriptures, and entreated them to guard
against all sin. Then she besought them not to set
their hearts too much upon any temporal enjoyment,
for they knew not when the Lord might take it from

LADY MARGARET STEWART. 177

them ; and entreated them to make good use of their
time, saying, *' This day will come upon you, and
*' you know not how soon you will be in my con-
*' dition." Thus she bade them farewell, with many
■earnest blessings and mutual embracings, and with
such tenderness and tears on their part as cannot be
expressed. After which, with great sweetness and
meekness, she closed her farewell with these words :
*' Now I entreat you, be kind to one another, tender-
*' hearted, forgiving one another ; and be of one
"** mind, and live in peace, and the God of love and
*' peace shall be with you." After this, she said :
*' I have many times besought the Lord that death
" might be no surprise to me, and neither is it ; and
*' I have prayed likewise that death might not be a
*' terror to me, and neither is it ; and I have sought
*' that I may not be terrible to others in dying.''
And that the Lord did very sensibly grant, as we shall
hereafter hear. And, to shew her great composure
of mind, she also gave orders about several little
circumstances both of her death and burial, suitable
to that most exact modesty which was so eminent in
all her life.

She, being now very weak, called for her father-
in-law, and putting forth her hand to him, said :
" Hold my hand, for I cannot hold yours." Then
added, '* You have been a very kind father unto
*' me ; I say, a very kind, affectionate father unto
" me : I cannot say any more, but the Lord requite
*^ you." Then, turning to her other relations, she
took leave of them, and said unto a friend, with
whose wife her daughters were at that time : '' Sir,
'* you will tell my two girls, that I remembered them,
'* that they should diligently seek and serve the
*' Lord, and make conscience of reading the Scrip-
'* tures ; and the Lord's blessing be upon them."
And so she took leave of him, desiring him that he
would remember her to his worthy wife. After this,

1 5

178 MEMOIRS OF

she called for the young man that waited upon the
children, and said unto him : *' You have a great
*^ charge upon you now, both of the souls and bodies
*' of the children ; for my husband will be taken up
" with his affairs, and I fear will not be long behind
" me."

Then siie said, ^' I have nothing now to do but
*' one tiling ;" and, turning to her husband, continued,
'* You have been a dear husband to me, but I am
" going to a dearer. I entreat you, weep not for me :
'* I shall be better. And now resign my soul unto
'' God." He being in great grief, said, '' My dear,
'* I dare not, i cannot; the minister will do it.'*
Whereupon she said calmly, '' Let the minister pray.'*
After prayer, she said again to her husband, *' My
** dear, resign my soul to God : you must do it, and
" quit me, for i have resigned my soul to God
** already. I had it from God, and I have given it
" back again to him." So her husband obeyed her,
and did resign her solemnly, being greatly helped
of God in the action, and she holding up her weak
hands all the time. Prayer being ended, she em-
braced iiim v/ith both her arms. After which, she
fell asleep again, being heard quietly to breathe out
these words, '* O feeling High Priest! keep that
** which I have committed, to thee."

She most peaceably died in the Lord, and that so
precisely at the going down of the sun, as she had
foretold, that, while they were shutting her eyes,
some, remembering her words, ran to the wdndow,
and told, that part of the sun was just setting and
sinking out of sight. Another who was not present,
nor heard her words, but hearing the cry at her
death, came in, and told that it so happened at the
same time.

She lived thirty-seven years. We can give no
greater commendation than the brilhant testimony
which her life and death render mutually to each

" LADY MARGARET STEWART. 179

other ill this true and just comparison : as she lived,
so she died ; and as she died, so she lived, and lives
for evermore. This is indeed her true character;
and all who knew her, and were eye-witnesses to her
life and death, must revere her memory.

Mr. William Violand, who wrote this Memoir,
was minister of Cambusnethan, the parish in which
Coltness is, in 1684.

180 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. REBECCA COMBE.

Mrs. Rebecca Combe was the eldest daughter of
the Rev. David Clarkson, the author of an excellent
volume of sermons and discourses. She had the
invaluable advantage of a religious education, both
her parents being eminent for wisdom and grace.
Under the instructions of her good mother, she had
early and frequent convictions ; which, however,
soon wore off. But these convictions being renewed
as she grew up, it was impressed on her mind, that
this way of performing duties, by fits and starts,
merely to quiet an accusing conscience, would not
satisfy the desires of an immortal soul, capable of
higher enjoyments. This put her on serious thought-
fulness what method to pursue, in order to bind
herself to a more stated performance of those duties
which she was convinced the Lord required of her.
Accordingly, she made a most solemn resolution to
address herself to God by prayer, both morning and
evening, and never, on any occasion whatever, to
neglect it, calling the Lord to witness against her if
she broke this solemn engagement. But alas ! she
soon saw the vanity of such resolutions for the per-
formance of duty only through fear, and as a task.
Having once omitted it at the set time, she concluded
her promise was now broken, and from that time
continued in a total neglect of prayer, till it pleased
the Almighty Spirit to return with his powerful
operations, and set her sins in order before her.
Then her unsuitable carriage under former convic-
tions, together with breaking the most solemn
engagements to the Lord, wounded her deeply.
Indeed, she was tempted to conclude she had sinned
the unpardonable sin, and should never be forgiven.
Yet, in this distress and anguish of spirit, she could

MRS. REBECCA COMBE. 181

not give up all hope, having some views of the free
and sovereign grace of God, as extended to the vilest
and worst of sinners, though she could not take the
comfort of it to herself. Her sins appeared exceed-
ing sinful. She even loathed and abhorred herself
on account of them, and was continually begging a
deeper sense and greater degrees of humiliation.
She thought she could have been content, yea, de-
sirous to be filled with the utmost horror and terror,
if this might be a means of bringing her to that
degree of sorrow which she apprehended the Lord
expected from so vile a creature. The heinous
nature of her sins, and their ofFensiveness to the
pure eyes of his holiness, was ever before her, inso-
much that she thought she could not be too deeply
wounded, or feel trouble enough. This put her on a
constant and restless application to God through
Christ, from whom alone she saw all her help must
come. Convinced that an expectation of some wor-
thiness in herself, as the condition of her acceptance
before God, was that which had kept her so long
from Christ and the free promises of the gospel, she
went to the Lord, and pleaded those absolute pro-
mises of his word, which are made freely to sinners
in his Son, without the least qualification on their
part. She was enabled to urge those encouraging
words. Rev. xxii. 17, " Let him that is athirst come,
'' and whosoever will, let him take the water of life
^' freely." Also Isa. Iv. 1, " Without money and
" without price ;" with many more of the like nature.
She now desired to come to Christ, unworthy as she
was, and cast her soul entirely upon him, for she
now saw all her past doings of no account in the
sight of a holy God. There was nothing left,
therefore, for her to take the least comfort and
encouragement from, but the free grace of God in
Christ Jesus, which continuing to plead with much
earnestness, she found her soul enlaro-ed bevond
whatever she had formerly experienced.

182 MEMOIRS OF

Soon after, being in her father's study, she pro-
videntially opened a manuscript, and cast her eye
upon a part of it, where he was shewing what pleas
a convinced sinner might make use of in prayer.
Many things w^re mentioned which were very reviv-
ing. '* I am miserable, and that might be a plea.
*' I might also plead his own mercy, the suitableness,
** the largeness, and the freeness of his mercy. 1
" might plead my own inability to believe, of which
*' I am very sensible. I might also plead the will of
** God, for he commands sinners to believe, and is
** highly dishonoured by unbelief. I might likewise
** plead the descent of iaith,-— it is the ^ift of God ;
*' and the nature of this gift, which is free. Yea, I
*' might plead the examples of others who have
** obtained this gift, and that against the greatest
'* unlikelihood and improbabilities that might be.
*' I might and could plead further, my willingness to
*' submit to any thing, so that I might but find this
** favour with the Lord. Moreover, I might plead
** Christ's prayer, and his compassions ; the work of
** his Spirit already begun ; that regard which the
*' Lord shews to irrational creatures : he hears their
*' cries, and will he shut out the cries of a poor
** perishing sinner? In short, I might plead my
" necessity and extreme need of faith, a sense of
*' which was deeply impressed on my soul."

On reading these pleas, which are excellently en-
larged on in her father's volume of sermons and dis-
courses before mentioned, (page 123, &c.) she found
great relief; they were to her as a voice from heaven,
saying, " This is the way, walk ye in it." She was
enabled to exercise faith in a Redeemer, and to give
up all to him, being now convinced by his Spirit,
that he would work in her what was well pleasing
and acceptable to God, and that he required nothing
of her but what his free rich grace would bestow.

Now was Christ exceeding precious to her soul,
and she longed for clearer discoveries of him, both

MRS. REBECCA COMBE. 183

in his person and offices, as Prophet, Priest, and
King. How did she admire his condescending love
and grace to such a poor, wretched, worthless crea-
ture ! She desired that every faculty of her soul
might be brought into an entire obedience. In
short, she could now perceive a change wrought in
her whole soul. Those things which she delighted
in before, were her greatest burthen. Thus she
vvent on pleasantly in duty; her meditation on him
was sweet, and her heart much enlarged in admiring
his inexpressible love and free and sovereign grace.

But this delightful frame did not long continue :
soon did vain thou2:hts arise and disturb her most
solemn approaches to God : these violent hurries of
temptation greatly staggered her faith, which was
weak. Hereupon she was ready to give up all, and
conclude that she had mocked God, and cheated
her own soul ; that these wandering thoughts, and
this unfixedness of mind in duty, could never consist
with a sincere love to the things of God. But these
discouragements were fully removed by reading
some of her father's writings, where it was observed,
that a person had no reason to conclude his sins
more increased, because they appeared more and
became more troublesome, since this arose from the
opposition they now met with from that principle of
grace which was implanted. Hence she learned,
that before this, the flesh reigned quietly, and there-
fore she perceived not the lusts thereof; but now all
the powers and faculties of her soul were engaged
against them, and that therefore they gave her the
greatest disturbance. Also these words were im-
pressed on her mind with an efficacious power, 2 Cor.
xii. 9. " My grace is sufficient for thee," which
gave her peace in believing that it should be accord-
ing to his word.

Thus, after many conflicts, comforts, and supports,
she determined to partake of the Lord's Supper, and
have her faith confirmed in the blood of that ever*

184 MEMOIRS OF

lasting covenant which the Lord had made with her,
since he had given his Spirit as the earnest thereof.
In coming to the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, she
found great dehght; her faith was strengthened, and
her love increased from that sweet communion she
then enjoyed with the Lord by his blessed Spirit,
who often filled her with joy unspeakable and full of
glory. Thus she walked under the comfortable sense
of his love ; and whilst in the way of duty, was
indulged with such sights of the Redeemer's glory,
and such a taste of his grace, that she frequently
wished she might never more go back to the world.

But, after her marriage to Mr. Combe, the new
temptations, incident to her new relation, brought
her into great and perplexing darkness. She lost
the sense of the love of God, and hence duty was
performed without that delight she once experienced,
which made her often neglect it, and especially in
private, whilst she attended on public worship with
little advantage or pleasure. The consideration of
this decay in her love, and the loss of those quicken-
ing influences of the Spirit, which she used to ex-
perience in duty, increased her doleful apprehensions
of her state. Her inordinate love to the creature
was soon rebuked ; for a disorder seized her husband,
which issued in a deep consumption. This afflictive
stroke did not, however, appear to have its proper
effect on her mind : she continued in an unsuitable
temper, and without that submission which such a
dispensation called for. The Lord still hid his face
from her, and it is impossible to give a particular
account of those perplexing thoughts and tormenting
fears which filled her mind. Every thing appeared
dreadfully dark both within and without. She says,
" O ! were it possible to describe it to others, as I
'* then felt, they would dread that which will separate
'' between them and God ! I expected if the Lord
^' did return, it would be in a terrible way, by some
" remarkable judgment or other; but oftentimes.

MRS. REBECCA COMBE. 185

*' from the frame I was in, I could see no ground to
*' hope he would ever return at all." But God was
better to her than her fears ; he who manifested
himself to his servant Moses, appeared in a remark-
able manner for her deliverance, and that it even
transported her very soul with love and thankfulness
beyond any thing she had experienced in the whole
of her past life.

The beo-innino; of this wonderful alteration in her
frame, was hearing the experience of one resemblmg
very much her own, when the Lord first began to
work on her soul. She concluded that this person
was the subject of a real and total change. On this
occasion, she determined to consider her former
experience ; in doing which, she found the blessed
Spirit of all grace assisting, and witnessing to his
work upon her heart, insomuch that her soul was
enlarged in thankfulness to God for thus manifesting
himself, and directing her to those means which he
had so inexpressibly blessed bej^ond her expectation.

This valuable Christian lived to a good old age.
She was confined by illness for four years before her
death ; during which she maintained habitual con-
verse with God, and longed much for the time when
all hindrances and restraints should be for ever
removed. She slept in Jesus, Nov. 20, 1744, aged
79 years, and her remains were interred in Bunhill
Fields.

186 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON.

Mrs. Gertrude Clarkson, second daughter of
the Rev. David Clarkson, was also a woman of an
excellent spirit. The constant instruction and ex-
ample of her parents had so early an influence, that
it is hard to tell when was her first awakening. As
soon as reason dawned, she had frequent convictions
of the dano'er of sin and of an unregenerate state,
attended with fears of the punishment due to it.
This made her fearful of omitting duties, or com-
mitting known sins ; and though these convictions
wore off, yet they often returned, and rendered her
uneasy, unless she was praying or learning scrip-
tures, or something which she thought good. In
these exercises she continued to be well satisfied.
Before she knew what it was to rely upon an all-
sufficient Saviour for righteousness and strength, her
notion of things was, that she was to hear, and pray,
and keep the Sabbath, and avoid what she knew to
be sin, and then she thought God was obliged to save
her; that she did what she could, and so all that he
required. And she further conceived, that if at any
time she omitted secret prayer, or any other duty,
yet, if she repented, it was sufficient. On this con-
sideration, she often ventured upon the commission
of sin, with a resolution to repent the next day ; and
then, having confessed the transgressioa, her con-
science has been easy. She truly desired that her
sins might be pardoned, but thought the ways of
religion hard; and though she durst not live in the
constant neglect of duty, yet she secretly wished
there had been no obligation to perf. rm it.

After her father's death, she happened to be read-
ing one of his manuscripts, wherein both the object
and the nature of saving faith were described, ai)d

MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON. 187

the great necessity of it pressed, &c.^ The plain
and clear definition there given of the saving act of
faith, caused other apprehensions of things than she
had had before. She then began to see how short
she had come, in all her performances, of that dis-
position of soul which the gospel calls for, and how
guilty she was while depending upon these per-
formances for acceptance with God, not casting
herself wholly and alone upon Christ, and resting on
his righteousness entirely for pardon and justifica-
tion. The concern of her mind was very great, that
she had lived so long ignorant of those things which
related to her eternal welfare. She was sensible that
the means and helps she had been favoured with, for
improvement in knowledge, were beyond what is
common, and that she had refused instruction ; the
consideration of which was very terrible to her, fear-
ing lest she had sinned beyond all hope of forgive-
ness. But, under the most discouraging apprehen-
sions of her case, her heart was much enlarged in
the confession of sin, and in bewailing her captivity
to it, which was attended with earnest wrestlings
with the Lord for pardoning and purifying grace.
Those absolute promises in the xxxvith chapter of
Ezekiel, of " a new heart and right spirit," were her
continual plea, together with Matt. vi. 6. " Blessed
" are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
''for they shall be filled."

She was under these convictions a long time
before any comfortable persuasion came that she
was accepted. She could not tell how to believe
that iniquities, committed as hers had been against
so much fight, could be forgiven. But, in the midst
of these distressing thoughts, she found in the same
manuscript of her father's, that none but unworthy

* It is remarkable, that these discourses concerning faith,
contained in tlieir father's volunoe of sermons, were greatly
blessed to both daughters after his death.

188 MEMOIRS OF

sinners, who are empty of all good in themselves,
are the objects of pardoning mercy; that the whole
need not a physician, but the sick. This encouraged
her to plead, with hope, that the Lord would glorify
the freeness of his own grace in her salvation.

About this time, her mother, perceiving her con-
cern, conversed very freely with her, and asked her
whether she was not willing to accept of Christ to
sanctify as well as to save her. She answered, ^' I
" desire this above all things." Her mother replied
that, if so, Christ had certainly accepted of her ;
adding, that it was He who had made her willing to
close with him, and that he never made any soul
thus willing whom he had not first pardoned and
accepted. A mother's words are at all times heard
by an obedient daughter with attention, but, on the
present occasion, to use her own words, she felt as
if it was a pardon sent immediately from Heaven.
She could not but say, '' I am above all things
" desirous to be entirely "ubject to Christ in every
" power and faculty of my soul, that every thought
** might be brought into subjection to Christ, and
'* nothing might remain in me contrary to him, but
*^ that there might be a perfect conformity to his
'* image and will in all things."

After this conversation, she found great com-
posure in her mind, believing that the Lord had
created those desires in her, which nothing but him-
self, and the enjoyment of him, could satisfy; and
" that he would not break the bruised reed, nor
*^ quench the smoking flax." The ordinances, which
were once irksome, were now above all things plea-
sant, and the return of Sabbaths continually longed
for. And she longed for that state wherein all these
fetters should be knocked off, and her soul set at
liberty in the worship and praise of God, being freed
from corruptions within or temptations without.

At this time her mother was persuading her to
receive the Lord's Supper, which greatly startled

MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON. 189

her at first. She thought there must be something
more in her, or she should eat and drink damnation
to herself. This is a usual device of the devil's, to
prevent true believers from approaching the Lord's
table, suggesting that they must see themselves more
worthy and prepared before they venture on this
solemn ordinance. Whereas, in fact, that person
comes most worthily to Christ and his table too,
who is made most sensible of his own imworthiness.
But being better informed both as to the nature and
end of the ordinance, and that it was intended for
the increase of grace and strength, and that it was a
positive command of her Lord, with whose will in all
things she was very desirous to comply, she .was at
last prevailed with to venture on that solemn ordi-
nance, and was much refreshed and satisfied in her
enlarged expectations of receiving all needful sup-
plies from him who is the Head of the church.

But after some time her affections began to cool,
and the want of the Lord's presence under the means,
in the use of which he had commanded her to expect
it, and which he had heretofore, in some measure,
vouchsafed, was very grievous. She earnestly
begged a discovery of every sin that might be hid
from her, and which might be the cause of this with-
drawing. After some time, being providentially
brought to hear the Rev. Thomas Gouge, she found
the preaching of this excellent divine so suited to
her case, that she was greatly enlarged in thank-
fulness to God, who had so directed her. Those
sermons upon Gal. vi. 3. " For if a man thinketh
** himself something when he is nothing, he deceiveth
*' himself;" though she had heard him before with
great satisfaction, brought her to a resolution of
sitting under his ministry. Speaking of these dis-
courses, she says, " They razed me again to the very
" foundation, and discovered the many secret holds
" Satan had in my heart, which before I thought

190 MEMOIRS OF

" not of, and how many ways I was taken up in
'' something which was nothing." The insisting on
such truths as have a direct tendency to lead from
self to Christ, by opening and unfolding the mys-
teries of grace laid up in him, so admirably suited to
answer all the necessities of poor helpless guilty
creatures, she found above all things encouraging
and enlivening.

This excellent woman died in London, April 23,
1701. Her funeral sermon was preached and printed
by Dr. Ridgley, who, among other things, observes
the following concerning her : That her mind was
rightly informed, and richly furnished with experi-
mental knowledge of the things of Christ, and of the
work of grace carried on with power in her soul.
And although she had sometimes a well-grounded
hope, yea, a full persuasion of the love of God ; yet,
so far was this from leading her to pride or carnal
security, that it can scarce be conceived what low
thoughts she had of self, and what a deep sense of
the power of indwelling sin, or with what sorrow she
lamented the same ; what a firm dependence on
Christ, as able to do nothing without him, how
watchful over her actions and thoughts, and how
much afraid of sin, even of the iniquity of her holy
things. There was in her conversation a becoming
mixture of gravity and pleasantness, not daring on
the one hand to make things sacred a prey to the
exuberances of wit and fancy ; nor, on the other,
of giving the least occasion to their false conceit,
who suppose that religion always chooses the dark
retreat of a melancholy temper, or is directly oppo-
site to what is cheerful or agreeable in common
conversation.

Her last sickness was short. She was on a sud-
den seized with a very painful distemper*, which
she perceived to be the harbinger of death ; but

♦ The colic, which carried her off in four days.

MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON. 191

when it made its nearest approaches, she declared
it was welcome. She did not flee from it as an
enemy, nor see any thing aiFrighting in its counte-
nance. When all about her were almost over-
whelmed with grief, she was the only person that
seemed unconcerned, being as willing to be gone as
death was to call. Though her pain was violent for
many hours, and very much hindered the desired
composure of her thoughts, yet, in this she was
submissive to the Divine will, and patient under his
hand. But it pleased God to give her ease the re-
maining part of her time, when she took occasion
to express the inward joy that she experienced.
When cordials were applied for the refreshment of
weak and fainting nature, she said, that " she had
** better cordials to refresh her than those. '^

The last two days of her life, she seemed wholly
unconcerned about, and quite disengaged from, any
thing in this world, as one that had taken her leave
of every thing here below, and was at leisure for
nothing but heavenly contemplations. Her discourse
was very affecting. Whenever she spoke of herself,
it was in the most humble expressions. But how
often did she extol and admire the love of God in
Christ ! The same truths that she was refreshed with
in life, were her comfort and delight in death. She
had the self-same abasing, yea, self-abhorring and
grace-advancing thoughts. She had a full assurance
of salvation, and of an abundant entrance with a kind
of triumph administered into it, often speaking in
the words of the apostle, 2 Tim. i. 12. '' I know
*' whom 1 have believed, and I am persuaded that
*' he is able to keep that which I have committed
" unto him against that day.'' And with joy un-
speakable, making use of those words with applica-
tion to herself, Jude, verse 24. " Now unto him that
" is able to keep you from falling, and to present
" you faultless before the presence of his glory with

192 MEMOIRS OF

" exceeding joy*/' Her inward peace was too great
to be expressed. When nature was very weak, and
her strength and spirits exhausted, she blessed God
that her faith did not fail ; and she had thereby
those clear manifestations of Christ/and soul-refresh-
ing prelibations of glory, that were a kind of heaven
in her way to it. Her last words were, with rapture
of admiration, *' O those rays of glory!" Thus her
soul took its flight into the bosom of Jesus, to
enjoy what it had long waited for, namely, further
discoveries of his love, and to be clothed with im-
mortality, and enjoy eternal life.

* These words were the subject of her funeral discourse, being
often repeated by her in her illness, and a wonderful support {o.
faith in her last moments.

MISS MARY TERRY. 193

MISS MARY TERRY.

This excellent young person was born at Hamburgh,
in Germany, where her father had settled on ac-
count of trade. In the year 1698, when she was
only eight years old, an afflictive providence ob-
liged her to come with her little brother and sister
to England, she being the eldest of three, whom it
pleased God at that time to commit to the care of
their pious grandmother. She observes, in her diary,
the goodness of God in giving them a prosperous
voyage, and then makes the following remark : *^ I
hope God has turned this affliction to our spiritual
good, for here we have the help of a better edu-
cation, and here religion is kept up more in the
purity and power of it, than it was in the place
from whence we came." By this means, says the
Rev. Thomas Reynolds, who gives the account, she
came under my personal observation and ministry.
At this very early age, it was astonishing to remark
the large stock of good instructions and devout
prayers wherewith she had furnished her memory,
and how diligent she was to retain them by often
repeating those good things that had been taught
her, and taking care that her little brother and sister
did the like. About the eleventh year of her age,"
she learned to write; and no sooner could she join
her letters, than (as we found after her death) she
would write down the heads of those sermons which
affected her, and which she carefully carried home
in her memory.

In the same year, she was taken very ill of a fever,
in which, as she writes, she was much afraid to die,

as fearino' the state of her soul was not safe. This

'^ . . . •

made her seriously think within herself, how impor-
tunately she would pray, and how much better she

VOL. II. K

194 MEMOIRS OF

would discharge her duty, if God should spare her.
And then she adds : *' It hath pleased the Lord to
try me in raising me from that sick-bed, that I
should not die, but declare the works of the Lord."
This is the only instance she gives of any notable
distress of mind ; and when she recovered she made
good her vows. '' I cannot," says Mr. Reynolds,
" lay the beginning of her conversion here ; for such
was her seriousness and unblameable behaviour, that
I doubt not the grace of God had touched her heart
long before this." It is tiie happiness many times
of those that enjoy the advantage of a religious
education, and have been kept from falling into
grievous sins, to be brought by insensible steps into
a love of religion, so that they know not how to date
the particular time of their conversion.

In the year 1703, which was the thirteenth of her
age, it pleased God to remove by death her only
brother, Richard, whom she dearly loved, and on
whom she had bestowed much pains. Though she
was much affected at his death, she blesses God she
did not sorrow as those that have no hope ; and then
adds : " God had b^en early at work upon his heart.
This was a great affliction to us all, and to my
grandmother especially : for by taking him away,
God rooted the name out of the family, there being
never another to bear it up."

*' The reader will forgive the digression," con-
tinues the writer of her life, '' if I take leave in this
place to mention somewhat of him. He was a
child deservedly admired by all for his natural
beauty, and the engaging sweetness of his temper
and carriage. But that which was most of all to
be wondered at, was the pious disposition of mind
that so early appeared in him. As his sister was
not wanting to do all she could to improve him,
so was he as ready to receive impressions. He
was a child that read much, and thought much,
^nd spent much of his time in walking and pon-

MISS MARY TERRY. 195

dering by himself. He could never be found
without some good book or other in his pocket,
even when he was but little above five years old.
He was constant to his retirements for secret duty.
But tiiat which deserves a particular remark, was
the concern which this young child had some
time before he died, for the spiritual welfare of an
aged faithful servant that had been above forty
years in the family, and v/ho by weakness was
confined to her chamber, having passed the seven-
tieth vear of her aoe. This little child, when not
eight years old, would take delight to be with her,
and, of his own accord, discourse of the things of
God, and pray with her ; in which, as that servant
said, he would deUver himself so pertinently, and
in such an affecting manner, as was wonderful.
He continued thus till she died, and was hereby
no small help and comfort to that poor servant.
' Thus, O Lord, out of the mouth of babes and
sucklings hast thou perfected praise !' He died
October 13, 1703, in the tenth year of his age."

Soon after this, it pleased God to exercise her
with great deafness through a violent cold which
lay much in her head : it lasted near two months,
all which time she enjoyed little of the comfort of
life. But her greatest trouble was, that hereby she
was hindered the privilege of joining with others in
any public or private ordinances, though, as she
writes, it was also melancholy not to have converse
with friends. She adds : *' I was earnest with God
in prayer, that he would, if it were his holy will,
direct to some proper means, and give his blessing
thereto, and again restore the hearing ear." Which,
after about two months, he was pleased to grant;
and then she says : '* O blessed be God that I have
all ray senses, and am not deprived of any ! By
the loss of one, how is the comfort of all abated !
I hope I have been taught how to prize them more
than ever. The Lord sanctify this late exercise

k2

196 MEMOIRS OF

to me, and enable me to make some suitable re-
turn for this mercy, to glorify him in all the parts,
members, and senses of my body, and all the
powers and faculties of my soul/'

In the year 1705, God wrought in her earnest
desires to partake of the ordinance of the Lord's
Supper; but Satan was very busy with his tempta-
tions. The account which she gives of the work-
ings of her mind at this period, is highly interesting
and instructive, especially when we consider her
extreme youth. Speaking of the false shame which
at first deterred her, she says : *' I thought, if this
should prevail to hinder me in my approaches to
that ordinance, it would evince I had not a right
principle of love to God, nor a sense of my obliga-
tion arising from the positive institution of Christ,
and from my baptismal covenant, which hath already
bound me up to all duty; also it would argue igno-
rance in me of tlie abundant advantage that would
flow to me from a right discharge of my duty, and
an answerable conversation in performing the en-
gagements thereby laid upon me to all holy walking.
'' At another time, the devil and my corrupt heart
suggested to me, that although I did give myself to
God in the most solemn manner, and by his grace
did resolve to walk in all his commandments; yet,
how well soever I might begin, I should not be able
to persevere to the end ; but in prosperity I should
be ready to be puffed up, and forget my God ; and
in adversity be overmuch depressed and cast down,
or be over-anxious and solicitous about the body,
and neglect the duties and concerns of my soul. I
was afraid lest the temptations of the devil, the
flatteries and allurements of the world, the vanities
and pleasures to which youth is commonly addicted,
should overtake and betray me into presumptuous
sins. But amidst all these troubles of mind, I met
with that comfortable promise in the covenant ot
God ; Jerem. xxxii. 38, ' And they shall be i^;/

MISS MARY TERRY. 197

people, and I will be their God/ And in the 40th
verse it is said again : * And I will make an ever-
lasting covenant with them, that I will not turn
away from them to do them good ; but I will put
my fear in their hearts that they shall not depart
from me.' I place my hope and trust on God's ful-
filling this promise to me, that he will, nay I hope
he hath already begun to implant his fear in my
heart, so that notwithstanding all the oppositions 1
may meet with in my way, I shall never depart from
him.

*' Another temptation was, that I was too young
to approach that solemn ordinance. With this 1
considered, that those advanced more in years
cannot, merely by their natural gifts and qualifica-
tions, perform any duty in a right manner, so as to
be accepted with God in Christ, without the in-
fluences of His grace and Spirit accompanying their
endeavours ; with which grace He can also, and
doth, assist younger persons that are earnest in
begging it of him, and who serve Him in sincerity
and truth, which I desire to do with all my heart
and soul ; and therefore I trust that God will not
deny me His assistance. And as no small motive
and spur to me in my preparations for this ordi-
nance, I had the example of an acquaintance before
me, even younger than myself, who, upon making
known her desires, was admitted a communicant
under the care of the same ministry.

" After all, I was satisfied, that these and all
other such like suggestions, which would divert
and put me by making preparation for this ordi-
nance, were Satan's stratagems. I begged of God,
that He would be pleased to remove all obstructions
and hinderances that seemed to lie in the way, and
prepare my heart for a right attendance upon him
in so solemn a duty, knowing that the preparation
of the heart in man is from the Lord.

*' In the year 1706, I made timely discovery of
my desires, and some suitable preparation, according

198 MEMOIRS OF

as I was able, in order to my being admitted the
following April to the Lord's table. I chose this
month, it being the entrance upon a new year of
my life. I thought, that to lay myself under new
bonds and obligations to walk in God's ways in the
beginning of a new year of ray life, might be a means
to walk this year more closely with God, and to
maintain my communion with him in a holy and
humble manner:

" The Monday before Sacrament-day, the Lord
was pleased to visit my sister with a fever. I thought
God was now displeased at something in me, and
going to indicate his displeasure, not only by threat-
ening to take away ray sister from me ; but also,
by the timing of it, I was afraid he would disappoint
me, in his providence, of my longing expectations
and earnest desires on the approaching Lord's-day.
But the Lord was better to me than my fears, and
mitigated his hand, and gave us a hopeful prospect
of recovery ; for which his name be praised. Hereby
also he gave me hopes of having yet an oppor-
tunity of waiting upon him on his own day at his
house and table."

April 7, 1706. " Being aged this month sixteen
years, I was, at my desire, this 7th instant, it being
Lord's-day, admitted to the participation of the
Lord's Supper. Therein I enjoyed some sweet com-
munion with my God ; but my greatest joy and
comfort at this time, was when I came home, upon
reflecting on what 1 had been doing, and ray review-
ing the sermon which was preached that afternoon
from these words, Isa. Ixiii. 19, * We are thine/
Wherein, among other things, were shewn the spe-
cial grounds upon which persons may be said to be
the Lord's; as, by election ; by price and purchase ;
by effectual calling, and the work of regeneration;
and by their own act of self-dedication or covenant-
surrender. Upon all these grounds I hoped 1 might
now, with comfort, look up and say, Lord, I arn
thine T'

MISS MARY TERRY. 199

January 4, 1708. *' I renewed my covenant with
God at the Lord's-table. It being the first Sacra-
ment in this year, I had a special regard both in my
preparations and in the ordinance to a new year, and
resolve and engage to take more pains with myself,
and to study my duty more, and do more for God
than ever 1 had done ; and I was earnestly desirous
that this whole year, if God should spare ray life, I
might enjoy more of him, have more communion
with him in every duty, which sometimes I have
found very sweet, so that in the whole this may be
a better year with respect both to duty and comfort.
That I might bring forth much fruit, and may be
found a faithful steward whenever God shall call me
to an account of my stewardship, whether this year
or another, in the strength and for the sake of Jesus
Christ."

It is to be observed, that in the close of this year
she died.

It only remains, that we give a short account of
her death. Such was the violence of her distemper,
that it carried her off in less than five days. She
found herself somewhat indisposed for several morn-
ings before she took to her bed; but this did not
hinder her from appearing in the family, and being
about the house as usual. But on Friday, the 3d
of December, she became very ill, her distemper
proving a malignant fever. She bore her sickness
with extraordinary patience, speaking but little, yet
exercising her thoughts much towards God. The
greatest trouble she complained of was, that she
could not meditate and compose her thoughts as she
had been used to do. When, among other things,
she was asked, if she had not experienced the pre-
sence of God in his ordinances, and found com-
munion with him in her attendances upon him, she
immediately replied, *' Yes, yes ; you can say
nothing of that kind but I can give an answer to."
The day she died, which was December 8, 1708,

200 MEMOIRS OF

finding the pangs of death upon her, she expressed
some fear how she should be able to get through
what was before her, for that she found dying work
to be hard work. But it pleased the Lord quickly
to release her of those fears ; for no sooner had the
minister who came to visit her withdrawn from the
bed, than she fell into a convulsion fit, in which she
departed, having not finished by some months the
eighteenth year of her age.

" Watch ye, therefore, for ye know not when the
master of the house cometh, at evening, or at mid-
night, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning :
lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping."

MRS. HOUSMAN. 201

MRS. HOUSMAN.

Mrs. Housm an, whose maiden name was Pearsall,
was bom in Kidderminster, Worcestershire, of reli-
gious parents, who were a credit to the profession
they made ; and as in other respects they acted
worthily in their station, so they were diligently
careful to train up their children betimes in the ways
of God. The most interesting particulars of her life
and character will be gathered from the extracts
which follow from her published Diary.

Her Method of cloning the Week, and preparing for
the Sabbath.

April 3, 1711. Through Divine goodness, I am
brought near the close of another week; I would not
close it without making some reflections. I find I
could run out in complaints against myself; but I
would not overlook the gracious dealings of God
to me. I would humbly hope I have had the tokens
of his presence with me in duty. O how reviving
hath it been ! It is infinite condescension, to have
any regard to so mean and vile a creature as I am.
None more beholden to free grace than I ; and some-
times, methinks I can admire it, and feel it con-
straining. It grieves me that I can make no more
returns. I cannot love Christ as he hath loved me ;
but yet, I would love him as much as ever creature
loved him.

I cannot but be thankful that 1 have another
Sabbath in view. O ! if I know my heart, I would
fain get grace by the means ; but I cannot but be
jealous of myself, and fear how it will be with me;
such sad experience 1 have had of a hard, dull, un-

K 5

202 MEMOIRS OF

affected heart. Very justly may God leave me to
myself. Sometimes for my sins he does hide his
face, that when I come to duties, I cannot have any
sensible enjoyment of him. But when it is thus
with me, my conscience beareth me witness, I am
restless and dissatisfied ; and I hope 1 find in me a
resolution still to hold on in the way of duty, and to
hope in his mercy.

I would fain get nearer to God in the duties of the
approaching Sabbath. Lord, give me a heart to
improve it. The preparation of the heart must come
from thee. Let me receive of the fulness that there
is in Christ Jesus, even grace for grace, for his sake.
Amen.

Sept. 16, 1711. I am now brought to the end of
another week. I have been reviewing the days past,
and find that the mercies I have received, have been
many and great, and so have been my sins, greatly
aggravated and multiplied.

i have been this evening desirous to present my
soul and body a living sacrifice to God, hoping he
will graciously accept me in and through the great
sacrifice, the Lord my righteousness. Upon the
most serious inquiry into tlie state of my soul, I see
orround to hope, that there is something of a real
change wrought upon me : yet, it is but in part. By
sad and daily experience, I find sin dwells in me ;
and, blessed be God ! I find something that opposeth
it : so that all doth not go one way. O that I
could find the power of sin weakened, and grace
strengthened ! This I beg for, this I hope for, and
earnestly desire that I might improve the approaching
Sabbath for this end ; to bring me nearer to God,
and set me at a further distance from sin and this
world. I rejoice. Lord, in the prospect of thy day.
O prepare me for it ! May I meet with thee ! It
hath been my desire this evening to descend into the
valley of real and deep humiliation. O may I in the

MRS. HOUSMAN. 203

morning of thy day get up into the mount of medi-
tation !

Her Frame and Reflections after the Sabbath.

July 22, 1711. I that have trifled away so many
Sabbaths, have been intrusted with another. In the
morning when I awaked, I hope I was truly thank-
ful for the return of the Sabbath; and I was desirous
to improve the prize put into my hands, and made it
my errand at the throne of grace for his assisting
and accepting presence. After I had read some part of
God's word, I set myself to get a few serious
thoughts ; and they were led first to take a view of
my present state, and in what relation I stood to
God. I was enabled to discern the footsteps of the
Spirit upon my heart, and that his real workings
were after God and universal holiness. Methinks I
could most feelingly say, '' Whom have I in heaven
but thee ! and there is none upon earth that I de-
sire like thee !*'

When I came to attend upon God in public ordi-
nances, I cannot say I was without some serious
desires and affections in my first engaging, Mr.
Spilsbury preached : the word came in a most lively,
convincing manner to me ; it reached my very case.
But in my return home I felt deeper touches. Such
impressions it made, that I could scarce contain
myself from the observation of others. I made all
the haste I could to retire, that I might give myself
liberty ; and I think I never had more sensible im-
pressions made upon me. O what was it ! Mr.
Spilsbury preached from Rev. iii. 3. *' Remember
how thou hast heard." I begged these impressions
might not wear off, as others had done. It cost me
some tears. Lord, leave me not to my dark, dead,
confused, stupid, senseless, hypocritical self; but
give me some fresh strength, and let me be under

204 MEMOIRS OF

the effusions of thy Spirit, even the Spirit of light,
life, and love.

Aug. 5, 1711. I have been intrusted with another
Sabbath. I cannot' but hope, that the manner of
God's dealings with me of late, as well as this day,
is in mercy. I have not such frequent discoveries
of his love made to my soul, as in months pastj
yet I humbly hope the Lord is bringing me nearer
to himself, by giving me some farther acquaintance
with myself. I see that I have no righteousness of
my own, nor strength ; I would therefore take hold
of another, and say, *' In thee. Lord, have I righte-
ousness and strength.*' Lord, bring me to an en-
tire dependence on Christ for justification; and upon
the Spirit would I rely for sanctification. Methinks
I am loath to return to a vain, cooling, tempting,
distracting world. But, Lord, take me by the hand,
and lead me in the way I should go. Let me never
depart from thee. May I still be progressive, till at
last I shall come to keep an everlasting Sabbath with
thyself above ; for which I would be looking and
longing, yet patiently waiting.

Aug. 12. This morning I awoke pretty early.
This I could not but be pleased with, and thankful
for. I renewed the experience I had the last even-
ing of the presence of God. I hope my mind was
in somewhat a serious and humble frame. I went
to prayer to seek the presence of God in the secret
duties I was engaged in ; particularly to be directed
and assisted in the duty of meditation. But how
did my ignorance appear, how weak was my faith,
how cool my love ! I spent about an hour in the
work ; but I cannot say my thoughts were engaged
and suitably affected.

As to my frame in public duties, it was bad
enough ; but yet, I hope I was not wholly stupid.

MRS. HOUSMAN. 205

The word came to my case : it convinced me of my
unprofitableness under the precious seasons I have
enjoyed. I was filled with some present shame, but
dare not resolve it shall be better in my own strength.
I would beg the word may be sanctified, the direc-
tions given complied with, and truly and duly prac-
tised. Lord, write thy word upon my heart, and
help me to treasure it up, that I may not sin against
thee. I am a poor, unprofitable creature, but yet I
hope I can call the Sabbath my delight ; and many
times I am grudging that its moments pass too
swiftly on. O, I would long for the dawning of the
eternal Sabbath ! Come, Lord, bring me where I
shall see thee clearly, and love thee perfectly, and
enjoy thee fully, without interruption and intermis-
sion, to all eternity.

Aug. 28, 1715. I have, through the abundant
goodness of God, not only enjoyed another Sabbath,
and the liberty of his house, but I hope the tokens
of his presence with me. I have this day, I humbly
hope, been under the drawings of his Spirit; have
had some real discernings of his glorious excellencies
and infinite perfections. I have had my love to and
longings after him somewhat warmly drawn out. I
hope grace hath been in lively exercise. Blessed be
God, that thus deals with me. He gives me encou-
ragement to hope in him; nay, enables me to rejoice
in him. What can I do less, since I can discern my
interest in him, and can say, my Lord, my God !

Her Preparation for tlie Lord's Supper.

January 30, 1728. Happy souls, that in time
know the worth of time ! Time is the only opportu-
nity we have to provide for an everlasting state. O
now may I be living at another rate ! I have a great
work to do, particularly at this time. I have a
covenanting season in view. Now I would be laying

206 MEMOIRS OF

aside every weight, and those sins which most easily
beset me, that I may engage heartily in preparation-
work. It is heart-work : bodily exercise profiteth
little. I know the preparation of the heart is of the
Lord : I will go to him, who is the heart-maker and
the heart-searcher, and seek for grace and assistance.
Lord, hast thou not said in thy word, " Go boldly
to the throne of grace, that ye may find mercy and
grace to help in time of need V Blessed be God
for this gracious word of encouragement, in which
thou hast caused thy servant to hope. Surely it is
good to draw nigh to God, resolved to hold on this
way of duty, and still hope in his mercy. Blessed
are all they that wait for him.

April 29. This day was our preparation for the
Lord's Supper. I have been hearing of Christ
Jesus ; what a gift he is to those who are his people ;
a free gift, valuable, full and comprehensive ! He is
a gift of love, suitable, seasonable, satisfying, and a
lasting one. Then we were put upon inquiring,
whether we had received this gift. Those that have,
have been made sensible of the need of Christ.
They have seen the fulness and excellency of him,
and have been made to desire him, and been
willing to receive him upon gospel terms. Such that
have Christ, have the Spirit of Christ, a spirit of
holiness, and a spirit of prayer. Such that have
Christ, are of the same mind that Christ was. i\nd
such as have Christ, have earnest desires after more
enjoyment of Christ here, and are longing after the
full enjoyment of him in glory.

Upon the hearing and mature deliberation hereof,
I have good ground to hope I have experienced this
in my soul. But I have great cause to lament and
be ashamed that I make no more progress, that I
am still but a babe, a dwarf in grace. O my want of
life, growth, and activity in holiness !

MRS. HOUSMAN. 207

Her Return from the Table of the Lord.

April 2. This hath been a Sacrament day : I
would take notice of, and record for my future en-
couragement, the experiences I have had this day of
God's answering my poor prayers. The Lord made
rae earnest with him for his presence, and this
day 1 have found him abundantly assisting- me in
duties, and refreshing me with his presence. O what
did I enjoy at the throne of grace and in meditation!
How sweet it is to come hunoerino; and thirsting; !
Such souls shall be abundantly satisfied.

Have not I cause to say, this hath been a good
day to my soul ? Every part of it, every duty, hath
afforded me great delight. O how good is it to wait
upon the Lord! What did I enjoy in hearing the
word, and at the table of my Lord ! Did not I feel
faith and love, hope and joy, and repentance, a little
in exercise? I did, I humbly hope. O may I find
it more so ! Did not my desires go out most ar-
dently after Christ I Did not I open my heart to
receive him ; and did I not find him ? The very
mercies of this day are enough to engage me to love
God for ever.

None but those who have tried it, can know the
delights that attend serious godliness. I could not
but be loath to leave the ordinances, and comedown.
What revived me most was, that I should not leave
my Lord behind me, but take him along with me.
O may I keep close to him !

June 4. This hath been a Sacrament-Sabbath ;
and upon the most serious, impartial review, I must
own it hath been, through free, rich grace, a good
day to me. I hope I had the presence of God in
meditation and prayer, in public while hearing the
word ; and then at his table, I cannot but hope and
believe I had it; enabling me to discern Christ

208 MEMOIRS OF

Jesus, to lay hold upon and embrace him as my
Lord, and to give up myself heartily, unreservedly,
resolvedly, and delightfully, to be his ; his entirely,
only, and for ever. And though I was not raised
into raptures, yet, I have enjoyed true, real comforts.
He hath given me peace in believing. And this
evening I have had abundance of comfort in the re-
flection on this day's transactions and enjoyments.
And to make up the day, and complete and confirm
it to me, God hath graciously helped me in medita-
tion. O my soul, what hast thou tasted ! The
assured discoveries of God's love to thee ; enabling
me to triumph in my interest in him, to lay claim to
the promises, and apply them : '^ There is no con-
demnation to them which are in Christ Jesus." *' I
am persuaded that neither life nor death shall
separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus
my Lord." " None shall pluck them out of my
hand." So that now I can say, through grace,
with a humble boldness, *' Come life, come death,
come what will, I have heartily chosen the Lord to
be my portion, and he shall be my all both here and
for ever."

Her Acknowledgment of God in important Affairs.

December 12, 1715. The providence of God seems
to be calling me to the alteration of my condition in
the world. Upon the prospect of this great jchange
I have in view, I cannot but be full of thought and
concern how I shall be duly prepared for it, that so
I might fill up the place and relation the providence
of God is now disposing me to, with duty and use-
fulness. When I consider that a new relation brings
new duties, new trials and difficulties with it, yea,
and new temptations too, I cannot but be under (at
least sometimes) great fears how it will be with me.

I am conscious to myself I have been very much
wanting in my duty in single life. How little have

MRS. HOUSMAN. 209

I answered the many favours conferred upon me ! I
would lie low before God in the sense of my sin and
folly.

I have oft spread the case before God, begging
He would choose the person who, the time when,
the manner how, the place where. I have been en-
couraged by those that are serious and judicious, to
incline to this as the direction of Providence. I
would with all humility accept the Divine disposals,
believing that his disposing will ought to be re-
garded as his commanding will, and doth as firmly
constitute my duty. I bless God, it is not any
thing in the world I am aiming at and pleasing
myself with, more than what looks like the gracious
dealings of God towards me. No, I am really afraid
of the world, of having much to do with it in my
passage through it. As my day is, so let my strength
be. O ! make good thy word unto thy servant, who
is devoted to thy fear ! I have been often saying,
*' If thou go not with me, carry me not hence ;" and
dost thou say, " Certainly I will be with thee?" It is
enough, I desire no more.

I am now setting out in the world, and what we
call settling ; but still I look upon myself and all
my concerns, relations and enjoyments, as immedi-
ately uncertain. How soon I may be called out of
the world, God only knows : I stand upon the brink
of an awful eternity. I bless God I can think of
death with comfort. The thoughts of it are not
terrifying, but oft pleasing. I can rejoice in hope of
the glory of God. It is very refreshing to me some-
times, in the midst of the hurries and diversions of
this life, to think the time is coming when I shall be
perfectly delivered from all these clogs, and come to
better enjoyments, and more real and satisfying
pleasures. But yet, I cannot but fear lest the love
of the world should prevail in me, and things of
time and sense interrupt me in my Christian course,
and abate my desires, take off the edge of my affec-

210 MEMOIRS OF

tions to the things of God and another world: therefore,
it will be my highest wisdom and indispensable duty,
to be much in prayer and constant watchfulness.
These are duties never out of season, but upon some
occasions of more absolute necessity ; and such a
time I look upon this to be. Lord, help me to be
faithful to the interest of my precious and immortal
soul!

Oct. 2, 1716. I have of late, by the providences
and word of God, been frequently put in mind of
death ; and the present circumstances I am brought
into, will lead me into the valley of the shadow of
death. It is now but a few weeks before those dif-
ficulties will unavoidably overtake me, that will be
great, and may end in death. How sharp and how
long they may be, I know not. But this I am as-
sured of, I shall need more strength than my own to
grapple with them, and much grace to enable me to
behave under them. I desire to be much in prayer,
and spread my case before the Lord for grace to
help me in this time of need.

To some it proves a dying time ; it may be so to
me. And this hath, sometimes at least, put me upon
the inquiry how matters go betwixt God and my
soul. I know it is a serious and awful thing to die;
but yet, I bless God, upon my most serious thoughts
of it, it hath not looked terrible. No, as to myself,
it looks rather comfortable and desirable to depart
and be with Christ. Though I have as affectionate
a yoke-fellow as any, yet, all I have, and all that the
world can afford me, is not sufficient to make me
happy. This world is not a portion for an immortal
soul. I hope I have chosen heaven for my inherit-
ance, and there I long to be. I bless God, I am not
afraid so much of death, as of dying.

If it shall please God to give me a living child, I
would with all humility and thankfulness devote it
to him, and resolve, his grace enabling, to bring it

MRS. nOUSMAN. 211

up in the nurture and fear of God ; and beg it may
be sanctified from the womb.

Her Frame under Afflictions,

June 27, 1720. It is two years since it pleased
the infinitely wise and good God to remove my dear
Joseph. I have had many warm, moving thoughts
working in me these few days past ; those that have
been humbling and quickening, and those that have
excited thankfulness towards that God who sup-
ported me under that trial. A trial indeed it was ;
the greatest, I may say, that I ever felt. May I not
say, ^' I had fainted unless I had believed ?" What
I then tasted, I hope, hath strongly obliged me to
love the Lord, and confirmed my hope that he is my
God, my covenant God. I hope I have been enabled
to justify and acknowledge his sovereignty in all
bis dealings ; and am not without hope that his deal-
ings were mercy, love, and faithfulness to me. I
hope the sincere desire of my soul is, to think well
of all that God doeth ; and v/ould fain have my will
entirely resigned to the whole will of God, concern-
ing me and mine.

Sensible I would be, but not dejected, and by
no means sullen ; that would put more bitterness
into the cup. God hath many arrows in his quiver,
and he can heat the furnace seven times hotter, and
again and again seven times hotter, till he hath con-
sumed us. And if he should do so, still we may
say. He punishes us less than our iniquities deserve.
I would humbly hope my desire hath been, and still
is, with Aaron, to' hold my peace, if God may be
sanctified, I would be satisfied. If God may have
glory from afilictive providences, I have nothing to
say against them. 1 hope it is both our earnest
desire, to improve the providences of God ; for it is
a great loss, not to be made better by them. I do

212 MEMOIRS OF

believe there are many lessons to be learnt, which
would be of unspeakable advantage to us ; viz.

1. It should for ever embitter sin to us. As she
said to the prophet, '' Art thou come to call my sin
to remembrance, and slay my son?" — it is sin^
sin, that hath raised these storms, and troubled our
house. O that we may be the death of that which
hath been the death of our children !

2. It should be a spur to us, to put us on in
heaven's way. I am conscious to myself, there was
need of this affliction. Especially before the death
of my Joseph, I was growing more remiss in my
duty. My heavenly Father saw it, and (may I not
conclude?) sent this sad providence to be my monitor,
to tell me whence I was fallen, and bid me repent
and do my first works !

3. I would learn by this providence, as long as
I live, to keep my affections within due bounds
towards creature Comforts. How hard do I find it
to love, and not to over-love ! Now God is a jealous
God, and will not give his glory to another ; and
may we not fear our excess this way hath provoked
him to remove the mercy from us, which we make
an idol of?

4. Are our children gone before us ? This should
be a means to draw our hearts upwards and home-
wards. Should we not be looking oftener than ever
into the other world ? It is but a little while, and
all the things of time will be swallowed up in
eternity ; and if we could but duly consider this, it
is no great matter whether we or ours die first, since
we are all dying. It hath been my constant prayer
to my heavenly Father, that he would give us a
name better than that of sons and daughters, and
make up all in himself. To him be glory for ever.
Amen.

Aug. 13, 1732. It hath pleased the great sove-

MRS. HOUSMAN. 213

reign Lord of all, last evening, to lay his afflicting
hand upon me. I was very suddenly seized with
illness; the fever was high, and I was brought low
by it ; but, as God laid on with the one hand, he
supported with the other. I bless God, my frame
under the affliction was easy, nay, comfortable. I
cannot express what impressions were made upon
my mind ; but they were such as did excite my love
to him, and enlarged my desires after him. O how
did the truth and faithfulness of God appear in
afflicting me ! How clearly did I discern things,
those things, which in general I love the sense of!
I was thankful for the affliction, and for the frame I
was then in under it. Blessed be God, who did not
leave me wholly to myself! 1 bless him for mercies,
and for seasonable, sanctified afflictions : they do
me — I know not how much good. I would not be
without them for the Crown of England, supposing
my need of them the same that now it is. Let
others bless themselves in their continued, growing-
prosperity ; blessed be God for seasonable, sanctified
afflictions ! saith my soul. Though so ill, and so
very ill last night and this morning, yet, through
much mercy, 1 was enabled to go out the latter part
of the day. Blessed be God, I heard sweet and com-
fortable truths, that " there is no condemnation to
'* them which are in Christ Jesus." I heard them
with pleasure^ and could hope in this mercy.

Her Improvement of Providences relating to others,

Sept. 8, 1716. This day I have been attending
two persons to the grave, both younger than myself.
One hath been wearing off for some time; but the
other's death was sudden, and very surprising. One
day well, and the next dead I She went to bed
well, and in two hours in eternity ! O surprising
stroke, to step into eternity before we think of it!
to find ourselves at the bar of a just and holy God,

214 MEMOIRS OF

sentenced to an unalterable state, before we knew
we were leaving this ! If the soul be found ready,
the surprise will be joyful. O my soul ! take the
warning, and let it excite thee to diligence in th}'-
preparatory w^ork. It is an interest in Christ only,
that can make me to die safely ; and only ray know-
ledge of it that can make it comfortable. The last
nip"ht, when I awoke, I could not but have some sup-
posing thoughts. What if death should come to me,
as it had done to cousin C — — the night before ! I
was put then upon reflecting on former transactions,
and could then say. If death should come this night
and in the same manner, I knovv^ in whom I have
believed, &c.

Feb. 2, 1727. This is a sorrowful day indeed to
us in this place. This dey dear Mr. Spilsbury was
laid in the grave. The great God seems to have a
controversy with us. He hath smitten the shepherd ;
O that the sheep may not be scattered ! We are a
provoking people ; it is a wonder of mercy we have
enjoyed him so long. O that we may every one of
us look into our own hearts, and endeavour to find
out the Achan that troubles our Israel ! The Lord's
voice cries to this town ; O that we may now *' hear
'' the rod, and who hath appointed it !" I desire to
lament the sins of the society in general, and my
own in particular, that have had a great hand in
bringing this sore and heavy affliction upon us. O
what cause have I to cry out, My barrenness ! my
barrenness ! under such rich and choice means. 0
that a sense of my sin and folly may both humble
and quicken me to and in my duty for the future !

May 16, 1727. It hath pleased the infinitely
wise and gracious God, the sovereign Lord of his
creatures, this day to remove our dear and honoured
father. I would be dumb and not open my mouth,
because the Lord hath done it. '* The Lord gave,

MRS. HOUSMAN. 215

and the Lord hath taken away," and still we must
say, '' Blessed be the name of the Lord." Blessed
be God, we had siich*a father, one truly religious,
and in covenant with God himself, and one who
took hold of the covenant for us his children ; who,
in our infancy, dedicated us to the Lord, and took
care to train us up in the nurture and admonition of
the Lord. A praying father ! We have lost one
that was constant and instant in this work. He hath
laid up a stock of prayers for his children. A bright
and shining example of holiness ! O that the chil-
dren may be followers of them, who, through faith
and patience, are inheriting the promises ; that this
providence may be so sanctified, that it may bring
us nearer to God and duty, and a more diligent pre-
paration for our own departure ! It will be but a little
time, and I must go the way of all flesh ; a way we
shall not return. O that I may now converse more
with our glorified friends ! Thrice happy they that
are in the presence-chamber of the Lamb ! that are
in the clear vision and full fruition of their dearest
Lord. Lord, send down thy quickening grace, and
fit me to ascend.

Feb. 26, 1728. I must now write myself not only
fatherless, but motherless. After many months' ill-
ness and weakness, it hath pleased our gracious God
and Father to give our dear and honoured mother a
release from all those sorrows she groaned under
here ; and through free grace, I trust, advanced her
to the glorious liberty of the saints above ; a state
and place her pious soul longed to attain. Happy
soul ! shall I wish her back again ? O no, no ! she
is where she would be. It is true, I want her pleasant
company and conversation. O that we, the children
of the family, might be found treading in the steps of
our dear parents, and remember those instructions
they took care to press upon us ! Should any of us
miscarry, it will be with dreadful aggravations. O

216 MEMOIRS OF

that all of us may give diligence to make our calling
and election sure ! Amen.

March 20. The late tidings of the losses which
our friends and neighbours sustain, give a large
demonstration of the vanity of the world. We must
justify God in his severest trials ; and still bless God
it is not worse with us than it is. I have often said,
and said it upon my knees, " Let the Lord do what
he will with me, I will love him and cleave to him
still; afflictions shall not drive me from, but bring
me nearer to my God." For my part, I know no
God but thee, and am resolved to take up with
nothing short of an interest in thy love.

Nov. 17, 1729. This day the sorrowful tidings of
good Mr. Thompson's death hath been brought me.
A great loss to the Church of God in general, and to
poor Bromsgrove in particular. He has done labour-
ing, and is now in the rest that was promised to the
faithful. O happy soul ! O glorious day ! he is now
where he would be. Help, Lord, for the godly man
ceaseth, and the faithful fail from among the children
of men. The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth
it to heart ; and the merciful men are taken away
from the evil to come. Who, who is there that con-
siders this as he ou2;ht ?

Her Thankfulness for Mercies received.

Nov. 5, 1711. This being a day to call to mind
former mercies, when the pubhc duties of the day
were over, I set the rest of the evening apart to
review the mercies of my life. The privileges of my
birth are, I see, exceeding great. That I was born
in aland of gospel-light, is an invaluable blessing;
but to be born in Kidderminster, is still a greater
mercy ; and to be born of religious parents, whose
care was to devote me to God, and educate me for

MRS. HOUSMAN. 217

God ; who took me and set me under the droppings
of God's sanctuary ; and there I had the advantage
of hearinof one of the most eminent ministers of
Jesus Christ, worthy Mr. Spilsbury.

Temporal mercies also have been bountifully be-
stowed upon me. In this respect I can see myself
a privileged person. Abundance of health and ease,
peace and prosperity, fulness and plenty ; so that I
have lacked nothing that is good for me. I would be
thankful to Divine goodness for placing me in such a
state, that I am free from many and great temptations
that others are exposed to, and in danger of being
undone by. I can see abundance of love in my
heavenly Father's disposals. I bless God, I am not
ambitious of much acquaintance in the world, nor of
having much to do with it.

I bless God that he has given me any sense of the
mercies I do enjoy ; but I am sensible I come far
short of my duty. I would have my gratitude
excited, and my holy resolutions to endeavour after
a more holy, humble, faithful, becoming walking. O
my unprofitableness in the midst of mercies ! I cannot
but reflect upon myself many times, how unlike the
person I am, to and for whom God hath so wonder-
fully appeared. I might record many of the especial
favours of my God ; the many tokens of his distin-
guishing grace. I would adore and bless him, that
he hath shed abroad his love in my heart, in a degree
beyond what I could have expected.

Her closing one Year, and beginning another.

Jan. 1, 1730. t am now come to the beginning
of another year. How many of my neighbours and
acquaintance have been removed this last year,
that were as likely to be alive now, as I was the
beginning of this last year ! They are taken, and I
am left yet upon trial. I have been this day called
to make my choice, " Choose you this day whom

VOL. II. j<

218 MEMOIRS OF

you will serve." I humbly hope I have been
enabled long ago to choose the Lord to be my God,
my portion, my everlasting all. I rejoice in the
grace in which 1 stand, and in the choice I have been
enabled to make. I desire in the most sincere and
solemn manner to renew and stand to my former
choice. O Lord, I am, I will be thine ; thine in
sincerity, and thine for ever !

I would lament the sins of the last year, and beg
pardon for Jesus' sake. I flee to the rich atonement
of thy Son's blood, and lay this guilty soul at thy
feet, crying, " God be merciful to me a sinner !"

I would, with my whole soul, bless God for the
mercies of this last year, and say. Bless the Lord, O
my soul, who hath crowned this year also with his
loving kindness, and made me experience his tender
mercies, as they have been ever of old. Come, love
the Lord, O my soul !

Jan. 1, 1732. Through the sparing mercy of God

towards me, I am brought to the beginning of

another year. It is a mercy denied to many. How

many hath the grave enclosed, this last ! yet, I am

living to praise the Lord ; and I would praise him

with my whole heart. The mercies of the year have

been innumerable ; they exceed the hairs of my

head. I would lament the sins of the year past.

How much precious time have I lost that is now

past recalling ! How many opportunities have I lost

of getting and doing good ! Lay not the sins of the

year to my charge. There is forgiveness with thee.

Take away iniquity, receive me graciously, love me

freely, for thy own name's sake, for thy Son's sake,

in whom alone I trust.

I know not but my last year may now be come.
Well then, if it should be so, O my soul ! canst
thou hope the time of thy redemption draws nigh ?
Blessed be God for a comfortable hope through
Jesus Christ.

MRS. HOUSMAN. 219

Her Converse with Utternity, and Preparation for it.

Jan. 23, 1729. One day more to account for ! O
my soul, what hast thou done this day, in order to
giving up thy accounts comfortably ? O awful
thought ! to stand before an impartial Judge, to
receive my eternal sentence ! O eternity ! eternity !
how vast is the thought ! how soon am I lost in the
meditation of it ! Eternal happiness ! eternal misery !
how inconceivable are they ! I am near to one of
these states, and I do loiter and trifle still. O for a
strong and lively faith, to realize and bring near
these invisible realities ! O my soul ! how is it with
thee ? Hast thou made sure work for eternity ? I
charge thee, turn in and inquire what change thou
canst experience. Thou art by nature a child of
wrath, even as others : it is Jesus that delivers thee
from the wrath to come. Hast thou, O my soul,
out of a sense of thy sin and misery, and despairing
of help in any other, fled to and laid hold of Christ
Jesus, as the only city of refuge, and accepted him
as Lord and Saviour, and given up thyself cheerfully,
heartily, and entirely to be the Lord's, resolving to
abide by his merits, and trust to his mercy ; rejoicing
in the provision he hath made for sinners, for poor
repenting sinners? I hope he hath made me as
willing to be made holy here, as happy hereafter. Is
not holiness my choice, and, I hope, in some measure
my delight ?

Feb. 4, 1729. Brought through another day in
safety and much mercy ! O that I could converse
more with the invisible realities of the upper, better
world ! But, alas ! what a stranger am I to that
noble life ! How am I enslaved to the things of time
and sense ! O that I could look upon myself as a
stranger here ! Mjr soul, this world is not thy
home ; be wise in time, and prepare to go hence.
Lay up a good foundation against the time to come.

l2

220 MEMOIRS OF

0 dearest Lord, raise this dead heart, give it a lift ;
set it upon the wings of faith and love ! O let this
be the victory that overcometh the world, even
my faith.

May 17. I have been visiting an aged Christian
friend, who is come almost to the last day of his life,
old Mr. Taylor : he is longing to be gone, to be
joined to the saints above. O that I may be looking
more above, and by faith be ascending after my
glorified friends, and be more longing to ascend to
my glorious Lord and Redeemer ! O what a joyful
meeting will it be for the saints above ! My soul,
look less to the things which are seen and temporal,
and more to the things which are not seen, and are
eternal.

Aug. 8. This day I have had many warnings. I
have seen one of our neighbours carried to the
grave, who died in the midst of his days. A great
loss to his family ! I hear of another who lies
speechless ; and the bell is tolling for another ; and

1 have just been visiting another, who seems upon
the very border of eternity. O, who would not be
up and doing, while time, and health, and ease,
doth last !

Life is the time to serve the Lord,
The time t' insure the great reward ;
And while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return,

I have at this time some return of my feverish
disorder. How it may be with me, I know not : I
am in the hands of a good and a gracious God, —
may I not say, my God, my covenant-God and
Father ! Lord, here I am ; do with me as seemeth
good in thy sight.

MRS, HOUSMAN. 221

Some Account of the Frame and dying Expressioiis of
Mrs. HousmaUj during the fezo Days of her last
Sickness ; draion up by the Servant luho attended her.

The providence of God, in the removal of my dear
mistress, seems to call on me to make some remarks
of what I was eye and ear witness to, which I hope
may be of use to myself and many others. Her
words were very affecting to me, and I hope a re-
hearsal of them may be so to those into whose hands
this may come.

From the time of her first seizure, which was in
the evening of October the 26th, she was exercised
with very violent pains, without any intermission till
her death ; such as, she would often say, she thought
she could not have borne; but, said she, " God is
good, verily he is good to me : I have found him a
good and gracious God to me all my days." Once I
thought she would have sunk away under her pains,
tliey were so extreme and overwhelming ; but, by
and by recovering, she brake out into these words :
** God is good : I have found him so : and though he
slay me, yet will I trust in him. These pains make
me to love my Lord Jesus the better. O ! they put
me in mind what he suffered for me, to purchase
salvation for my poor soul !"

I asked her, how old she was when the work of
grace began to be wrought in her soul. To which
she replied, that when she was but ten years old, it
pleased God, by his Spirit, sometimes to set in with
the word, and serious impressions were made on
her mind ; but after a while, they wore off again,
and then she was left under great trouble and
distress ; and then sometimes she had some reviv-
ings. But she said, she could not then open her
mind to any body. And thus it continued with her,
till she was almost thirteen ; when, one Lord's-day,
Mr. Spilsbury, in preaching, was very pressing on
his hearers to close with Christ ; and he said, '* Do

222 MEMOIRS OF

it now, before it be too late. Nay, go home and
spread your sins before the Lord ; confess that you
have sinned and done very w^ickedly ; lie before
him in dust and ashes, and then give up yourselves
to him vv^ithout delay. Say not, I will do it some
time, but do it now this night. Those of you that
can write, go and set it down in writing, that from
this time you are, and will be the Lord's." She
said, that she did accordingly, and from that time
she hoped the good work went on prosperously.

She said, she could part with all that was dear to
her here, to go to Christ. " It is hard work indeed
to part with my dear husband ; he has been a faithful
and a loving, tender husband to me ; the Lord
reward him for it ! And it is hard parting with my
dear child. I hope the seeds of grace are already
sown in her heart ; the Lord cherish and cultivate
them, that she may be a comfort to her father,
when I am dead and gone. I cheerfully resign them
to God : I have done with them, and heartil}/^ com-
mend them to his care, who is able to keep them
from falling, and I trust will do it. And now I
desire that those I love best, may be kept out of
my sight, for I have done with them, and can cheer-
fully leave the dearest creature enjoyments to go to
Christ."

She then took hold of my hand, and said, '^ I wish
thee well, and so I have ever since I knew you ; and
I look upon your coming into my service as an
answer to my poor prayers. I love thee very well,
and hope you will do well. I have been constant
and earnest in my prayers to God for you. I entreat
and charge you, keep close to God ; never turn aside
from him : this is my dying advice. Keep close to
God, and he will keep close to you. And now I
commend you all to the care of one whom I can
with comfort call my God, my true and faithful
God."

The day before she died, my master came to the

MUS. HOUSMAN. 223

bedside, and no doubt with a sorrowful counte-
nance ; to whom she said : " Dear, I think I am
going apace, and I hope you will be satisfied,
because it is the will of God. You have at all times
been very suitable, very loving and good to me, and
I thank you for it kindly. And now I desire you
freely to resign and give me up to God ; do it now ;
go, I desire you now, and give me up freely. If God
sees it best to prolong my stay here upon earth, I am
willing to stay ; or if he sees it best to take me to
himself, I am willing to go. I am willing to be and
bear what may be most for God's glory." And my
master accordingly, with tears in his eyes, retired
into his closet.

The evening before she died, before night, she
found death stealing upon her, and feeling her own
pulse, said, *' Well, it v.'ill be but a little while
before my work will be done in this world; then I
shall have done with prayer ; my whole employ-
ment then will be praise and love. Here I love
God but faintly, yet, I hope, sincerely ; but there
it will be perfectly I perfectly ! I shall behold his
face in righteousness. For I am thy servant.
Lord ; I am thy servant bought with blood, with
precious blood. Christ died to purchase the life
of my soul.'' And then, as in a rapture, she
repeated the seventeenth psalm of Dr. Watts, be-
ginning, " Lord, I am thine; but thou wilt prove" —
though, by reason of weakness, she could scarce
bring out the words.

After this, she said : " A little while and I shall
be singing that sweet song. Blessing, and honour,
and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth
upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and
ever !" O what smiles, what marks of longino-
desire did I behold in her face, as if she was in a
transport of joy !

She would often say, '' Come, Lord Jesus, come

224 MEMOIRS OF

quickly! Why are thy chariot-wheels so long in
coming? why tarry the wheels of thy chariot? O
blessed convoy, O come and fetch my soul, to
dwell with God and Christ and perfect spirits for
ever and ever ! When I get above, to that blessed
society above, my pleasures will never end. O the
glory, O the glory that shall be set on the head
of faith and love ! I long for the glorious convoy.
Come, blessed Saviour, come and fetch my soul
to glory. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, come
quickly ! Why art thou so long? I long to be with
Christ, and hope in a little while 1 shall be with
him, where he is, to behold his face in righteous-
ness : then shall I be satisfied, when I awake in
thy likeness."

She bade me many and many a time look on her.
Look on me," said she, ** and learn to die ; for die
you must, and turn to dust." She said, *' Death
comes on gradually, but I am not afraid of its
approaches. I can meet death in all its terrors
with pleasure, because its sting is taken away,
and because it will bring me to Christ, my living
head. I long to be with Christ, to behold his
glory." And then, with visible marks of pleasure,
these lines dropped from her dying lips, (for her
flesh was almost cold four hours before her death,
as when she was really dead,)

O the delights, the heavenly joys.

The glories of the place,
Where Jesus sheds tlie brightest beams

Of his o'erflowing grace !

When death was near, she was very sensible of its
approach, and said. That she was going apace to
the eternal world, and then she hoped to be free from
all the pains and sorrows, clogs and incumbrances,
she had been exercised with in this world. But she
said, " I do not hope for any thing as the fruits of my

MRS. HOUSMAN. 225

own merits and righteousness, but of free grace,
and through the merits of my dear Saviour, who
hath brought me out of the hands of all my spi-
ritual enemies that would do me any harm. And
I can securely trust my soul in the hands of my
dear Redeemer ; for I know whom I have believed,
and in whom I have put my trust, and am con-
fident that he is able to keep what I have com-
mitted to him against that day." She then said
as follows :

My soul in thy sweet hands 1 trust:

Now can I sweetly sleep:
My body falling to the dust,

1 leave with thee to keep.

One who was present told her, that there had
been many prayers put up on her account ; to which
she answered, she hoped they were all prayers with
resignation.

She had such strong and eager longings to be
gone, that she would often say, and say it with
great earnestness, ** Come, Lord Jesus, come, for I
long to be gone from the footstool to the throne,
where there will be no more death, nor sorrow, nor
crying, nor any more pain. O how sweet will it
be ! It will be far better to depart and be with
Christ for ever, for ever, than remain in the pre-
sent state of sin and sorrow. It is true, I love
my husband, I love my child, I love them dearly ;
and I love life ; but I can cheerfully die and leave
them all, to go and be with Christ, because it will
be far better. His arms are open to receive me,
and bid me welcome, welcome to heaven, and all
the glorious enjoyments thereof. O, I long to be
gone, I long to be gone, to be with Christ, and
never, never part more ! Come, my dear Lord, I long
to be dissolved ! O why, O why are thy chariot-

L 5

226 MEMOIRS OF

wheels so long in coming? Make no tarrying, O
my God ! "

A few minutes before her departure, she felt
herself going, and desired us to lift her up a little,
which we did. Then she, smiling, said, " Farewell
sin, farewell pains/' And so finished her course
with joy. She died Oct. 31, 1735.

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 227

MRS. ANN DUTTON,

Mrs. Ann Button was born at Northampton,
soQietime about the end of the seventeenth century ;
but the particulars of her age and family are not
known. She appears from her writings to have been
a woman of considerable abilities, and great religious
attainments. The account she gives of herself, was
published in London, 1743 ; but where or when she
died, we have not been able to ascertain. The fol-
lowing is extracted from that copy, and nearly in
her own words.

" I had the advantage of a religious education,
my parents being both pious, by whose care and
diligence I was trained up in the ways of God ;
being early instructed into the doctrines and wor-
ship of the gospel, so far as my tender years were
capable of. I attended with my parents upon the
ministry of the late Mr. Hunt, at Northampton,
which was the place of my first, and also of my
second birth. I kept up private prayer frequently,
but not constantly. From a child I was acquainted
with the holy Scriptures, and took pleasure in read-
ing them, with other good books, especially hymn-
books, which I greatly delighted to learn and
commit to memory. My natural affections at
times were much raised in reading some parts of
the Bible, and other books ; so that I have preferred
religious exercises to the childish vanity of play
with my fellows, which some judged to be the bud-
dings of grace in my soul. However, from a child
I was under convictions at times ; and my con-
science was kept so tender, that I was easily
touched with the guilt of sin, when 1 thought 1 had
done any thing amiss. And when I was under guilt,
it would hinder me from prayer, till it was a little

228

MEMOIRS OF

worn off. But then I thought to be better; and to
prayer I went again. And if I could pray with any
enlargement, my conscience was eased, and I was
quite whole, and went on with religious exercises as
before.

'' But notwithstanding my attendance upon public
and private worship, my notions of divine myste-
ries, my memory to retain the best things, and my
raised affections in religious exercises ; I was, though
I had little reason for it, a proud, self-righteous
creature. For though I had notions of these things,
yet, alas I the inbred enmity of my heart appeared,
in my attempting to join something of my own with
Christ, seeking life as it were by the works of the
law ; which is the way that seemeth right to a man,
but the end thereof is death. Proud worm that I
was, I valued myself upon my supposed attainments,
and thought my eternal happiness secured thereby,
I have been ready at times to bless myself thus,
when I have seen other children at play : * Well,,
others are employed about vanity ; but I know
better things; I have been at prayer while others
are at play : doubtless I am safe for heaven.' But
if any one had asked a reason of my confidence, it
must have been, if 1 had spoken my heart, ' Because
I am better than others.' So wicked and vain was I,
notwithstanding all my religious seriousness, that I
went about to establish my own filthy righteousness,
and was far from submitting to the righteousness of
God. And thus in unbelief, rejecting the Saviour,
I might have been left to go on, depending upon my
own righteousness, and to perish with thousands in
this splendid way to hell.

** And here I would further observe, that though
I mostly had a false peace from my supposed good-
ness, yet, at times it was broken by my badness.
My conscience would accuse me for my vanities
and evils, as not being all of a piece, as not acting
consistently with that show which I made in reli-

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 229

gion. And oft have I strove to stifle convictions,
and against the force of them, when my honoured
father talked closely to me for the good of my soul.
And lo, a little time before the Lord wrought
savingly on my heart, I began to be more airy and
proud, and to please myself with creature-vanities.
And thus, being estranged from God, and an enemy
to him, with my back upon God, and my face
towards destruction, I went on in sin, towards eternal
death ; and was so far from having any fitness in me
for conversion to God, or any goodness to move his
favoui, that I had a fulness of rebellion, a fulness of
sin in me to provoke his wrath, and was fit fuel for
everlasting burnings. And justly might I have been
made an example of God's vengeance, of his fiery
indignation, in the torments of hell for ever. But,
behold ! to commend ihe love of God towards me,
he took me at my worst ! For God, who is rich in
mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved me,
even when 1 was dead in sins, did quicken me toge-
ther with Christ. It pleased the Lord to work
savingly upon my heart, when I was about thirteen
years of age ; though I cannot fix the precise time
of its beginning : which I judge was the less dis-
cernible to me, by reason of my being so frequently
under concern of soul before. But, however, this I
can say, that my concern at this time was much
greater and more lasting, than ever before. Nor
could I find peace where I was wont to find it.
There was a mighty impression made upon my
heart, of the reality and consequence of a future
state, either of misery or glory, of unspeakable
happiness, or inconceivable torment; together with
the nearness of its approach. Oh, eternity I eternity!
was ever before mine eyes ! And the worth of my
own soul, as an immortal spirit, capable of the
highest glory in the eternal enjoyment of God, or
of the utmost misery in an everlasting separation
from him, was strongly impressed upon my mind.

230 MEMOIRS OF

Again, the misery of my natural state was set
before me, as a transgressor of the holy law : I
thought all the curses in God's book belonged to
me. And further, the law of God was now opened
to me in its spirituality ; as extending to thoughts,
the most inward motions of my soul, as well as to
my words and actions.

'* This raised a cry in my soul, (though I kept it
as close as I could from others,) What must I do to
be saved? Now I set about religion in good
earnest. I prayed, read, heard in a very different
manner from what I had ever done before. But my
wound was too deep to be healed with my own
doings now. My soul was removed far oft' from
peace. A dreadful sound was in my ears. The
law of God pursued me with its curses, notwith-
standing all my religious duties ; yea, even for the
sins that attended them : which till now I was an
utter stranger to. Before, I was a beautiful creature
in my own eyes, as wrapt round with my fine doings.
But now I saw myself to be a most deformed object,
a loathsome spectacle in the eyes of God, and was
so in my own sight. My best righteousness now
appeared to be but filthy rags ; which were so far
from justifying me before God, that they really
increased my guilt and condemnation, by reason of
the sin that clave to them. I saw sin now in another
light than before. I saw the exceeding sinfulness
and hatefulness thereof, in its contrariety to God,
the chief good. The guilt which before attended
my conscience, on account of sin, respected only
the outward actions thereof in my life; but now I
saw myself guilty by reason of heart-sins. Yea,
mine eyes were now opened to see the filthy foun-
tain, whence all the defiled streams, both in heart
and life, did proceed. I saw that I was shapen in
iniquity, and that in sin my mother did conceive me ;
that I was brought into the world a sinner, with a
guilty, filthy nature, all over defiled from head to

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 231

foot, as a descendant from fallen Adam. Again, I
was convinced that I had been doing nothing else
but sinning against God, ever since I had a being.
And I wondered at infinite patience, that had borne
with me, and suffered me to live so long out of hell.
I now no longer thought myself to be better than
others, but one of the vilest creatures the earth
bore. Yea, I thought myself to be the very chief
of sinners. For, though restraining grace had
kept me from outward enormities ; yet, I could
look upon those of the most flagitious lives, and
think myself a worse sinner than they. The plague
of my heart was now opened ; and oh, what a com-
plication of sins, what filth and abominations, did I
there see ! These made me loathe myself in my
own sight.

'* Again, I was convinced of my own weakness,
and real inability to do any thing that was spiritu-
ally good, or in the least wise to help myself out of
that miserable, distressed condition I was in. I saw
myself to be carnal, sold under sin ; and that I was
so far from being able to help myself out of that
horrible pit I was plunged into, that the more I
struggled to get out, the deeper I sunk into it.
And this inability to help myself respected, not only
the guilt and filth, but also the power of sin. I saw
that I was held as in chains under the dominion of
sin : and the power and being, as well as the guilt
and filth of sin, were now a great burden to my soul.
I saw, that nothing less than an omnipotent arm
could pluck me out of those amazing deeps ! And
now 1 was undone indeed ! Just ready to perish in
my own apprehension, being filled at times with
terrible fears of approaching wrath. So that I have
been in dread in the evening, when 1 went to bed,
lest I should lift up my eyes in hell before morning.

'* Again, it pleased the Lord to convince me, that
salvation was alone by God's free grace, through
what Christ had done, as the Redeemer of sinners ;

232 MEMOIRS OF

and that it was impossible for me to be saved,
without faith in Christ, of the special operation of
God. Further, I was fully convinced of the suffi-
ciency of Christ to save even the worst of sinners ;
and that there was salvation in him, which the
chosen of God should assuredly obtain. Again,
there was a soul-ravishing, heart-attracting revela-
tion of Christ made to me, in his infinite suitable-
ness as a Saviour, to my present case as an undone
sinner; and also, of his infinite ability to save me
to the uttermost from the depths of misery, to the
heights of glory. And though what I heard of
salvation as yet, was but, as it were, in general pro-
positions; as, that Christ died for the chief of
sinners ; and, * He that believeth shall be saved,*
&c., whence a possibility of salvation for me was
hinted ; yet, so powerful an influence had it on my
soul, that it kept me from despair, and held my
heart at the throne of grace. And, indeed, some
glimmerings of salvation by Christ, together with a
possibility of its being for me, were so intermingled
with my forementioned convictions, that they kept
me from sinking into desperation.

** About this time I was put upon some doubt
about election, whether there were any such thing;
and received full satisfaction from Rom. xi. 5. ' There
is a remnant according to the election of grace.' But
then, to know whether I was elected, this was my
chief concern. For the notions I before had of the
doctrines of the gospel were not sufficient to comfort
me now. I could no longer rest satisfied with know-
ing, that God had chosen a remnant in his Son unto
eternal life, unless I knew my own interest in elect-
ing grace ; nor, that Christ had died for sinners,
without knowing that he loved me, and gave himself
for me, &cc. I saw it availed nothing as to salvation,
to know for others, unless I knew these things for
my own soul. God's election-grace stood forth
before mine eyes in an amazing glory. But oh, to

MRS. ANN DUTTON. 233

know whether I was one of God's chosen! I saw
the inexpressible blessedness of those who were
interested in Christ's person, love, life, death, and
glory. But oh, the tormenting fears which at times
racked my heart, lest I should stand excluded from
all this grace ! I was once, I remember, reading
the seventeenth chapter of St. John ; and when I
came to those words, * I pray not for the world,
but for them which thou hast given me, for they
are thine ;' my heart was as if struck through with a
dart ; fearing that I was none of the Lord's, but of
the world, and, as such, stood excluded from Christ's
prayer. And those words also were weighty upon
my mind. Psalm Ixxiii. 1,2.' Truly God is good to
Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.' But as
for me ! (for I went no further,) from the first verse
I saw how infinitely good God was to his own
people, and how unspeakably blessed they were, as
interested in all his goodness. So that from those
clear and demonstrative views I had of it, I could
with my whole soul join with the Psalmist, and say,
* Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of
a clean heart !' But then, from the first clause of
the second verse, * But as for me !' I took in a
vast sight of my own misery, and was filled with
fears that my state was just the reverse to that of
those happy souls, which were interested in God,
and in all his goodness. Yea, I sometimes found
despairing thoughts forcing themselves upon me ;
as if I was irrecoverably lost. And, at times, I was
fit to bewail my misery, in a verse of Mr. Mason's
Poem upon Dives and Lazarus ; viz.

" God's gone, he's gone, and what an hell is this,
" To be depriv'd of everlasting bhss !''

** But, through rich grace, everlasting arms being
underneath me, I was not left to sink into despair ;
nor was I long without hopes that I should find

234 MEMOIRS OP

mercy. The greatness and sovereignty of Jehovah^s
mercy and grace, the fulness and freeness of Christ's
salvation, together with the indefinite promises of
the gospel, were as so many cords which powerfully
drew my soul to venture into the presence of God,
and prostrate myself at the throne of grace, as a lost
undone sinner, as it were with a rope about my neck,
or as under a full conviction, and an open confession,
of my having deserved to die the death. I was, as
it were, brought before the bar of God, and asked if
I had any thing to say, why I might not be sent
down to the pit. And lo! I stood guilty: my
mouth was stopped before the Lord, and I wondered
that he had spared me so long. I saw that I had
destroyed myself; and if I was the next moment
sent down to hell, I could justify the righteousness
and holiness of God therein. That word was much
to me upon this account : ' The Lord is righteous in
all his ways, and holy in all his works,' Psal. cxlv. 17.
Ay, thought I, he will be so in my condemnation, if
I am punished with everlasting destruction from
the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his
power: his righteousness and holiness will shine
forth herein. So that I had nothing to plead upon
the foot of justice. But yet, my soul was mightily
€ngaged with the greatest intenseness to seek life
upon the ground of free mercy and rich grace dis-
played in a crucified Jesus. Out of the depths of
misery I cried unto the depths of mercy ; as the
poor publican, God be merciful to me a sinner !
And God's design to exalt his mercy and glorify his
grace in saving lost souls, did furnish me with argu-
ments to plead with him for the display of these
riches in my salvation, as the very chief of sinners.
I thought, that, if I was saved, there would be never
another such an instance of grace in heaven. And
thus I have pleaded with God, that he would display
the riches oi his glory in saving me, to shew what a

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 235

God of grace he was ; and what wonders the exceed-
ing riches of sovereign grace and free mercy could
work for the most miserable.

*' Thus, as a poor perishing sinner, I waited at
the throne of grace, with earnest longings and some
hopes, that mercy would bid me live. I saw that
there was grace enough in God to save me ; and
oft the language of my soul was like the centurion's
to Christ, concerning his servant, * Say in a word,
and my servant shall be healed,* (Luke vii. 7.) So
have I said. Speak but the word. Lord, and my soul
shall be saved : bid me live, and I shall live in thy
sight. I had faith in Christ's ability to save me ;
but oh, my unbehef ! I questioned his willingness.
I was surrounded with a crowd of discouragements,
which forbade my soul crying after him. But so
powerfully did the Father draw me to Christ, by
revealing his infinite fulness and freeness to save,
together with his exceeding suitableness to my case,
and that there was yet hope for me ; that, though
attended with fears, I pressed through all difficulties,
and cast myself at the foot of free grace in Christ ;
resolving that, if I did perish, it should be at
mercy's feet.

" But, before I proceed further, I would just sum
up the effects of this work of the Holy Ghost upon
my soul. By this, he took me off from the ground
of self-dependence, and laid all my hopes of eternal
happiness upon a new foundation, even the free
grace of God in Christ. By this he made me low
and loathsome in my own eyes, and made Christ
exceeding high and precious in my esteem. By
this he made me long for, and seek after, holiness
as much as happiness ; yea, to esteem it an essential
part thereof. And, in a word, by this he made God
in Christ all to me ; and every thing else, nothing
in comparison of him. So that I could say with the
Psalmist, (in respect of desire, though not of appro-
priation,) ' Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and

236 MEMOIRS OF

there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee/
Psalm Ixxiii. 25.

'* In the next place, I would hint something of
the means which the Lord was pleased to make use
of, in this work upon my heart. The ministry of
his word was blessed for increasing my concern and
enlarging my desires ; though I found not that soul-
satisfying consolation in it which I thirsted after.
I waited at wisdom's gate with earnest longings to
find Christ ; and every Lord's-day, the breathings of
my soul were wont to be. Oh that this might be the
time wherein I might find Jesus, and the manifesta-
tions of his love to my poor soul ! And though I
found not him whom my soul loved, to the satisfac-
tion of my desires ; yet, I did not give over seeking,
and my longings were increased hereby.

" Again, the reading of God's word was another
means which was greatly blessed to my soul, both
for the discovery of my misery, and the revelation
of the remedy. The Psalms of David, and St. Paul's
Epistles, were very precious to me. I saw such a
transcendent excellency in Christ, that my soul im-
patiently longed for the knowledge of interest in
him. Might I have had the whole world given me,
ay, thousands of them, had there been so many,
they would all have been to me but empty, unsatis-
fying trifles. And if I had but Christ, I thought,
I could freely bear all the miseries and distresses
which his can possibly be exposed to in this present
time ; esteeming it a far happier state to suffer afflic-
tion with the people of God, than to enjoy the plea-
sures of sin for a season. I saw such an inexpres-
sible glory in his person, as well as in his salvation,
that he was to me all my desire ! And the thoughts
of an everlasting separation from him, as the sum of
all perfection, and fountain of blessedness, wounded
me to the quick. Oh that word, ' Depart from me,
ye cursed !' How did it pierce my heart ! Oh,
what abundance did I see in that little word me.

MRS. ANN DUTTON. 237

* Depart from me !' Oh, thought I, if the Lord
would bid me depart from every thing else, I could
bear it : but how shall I endure it, if I am bid to
depart from him ? I saw so much in Christ, that I
judged none happy but such who were interested in
him ; and none miserable but those separated from
him. Yea, I saw that an interest in him, the foun-
tain of blessedness, was enough to make his unspeak-
ably blessed in the most afflicted condition that
could possibly befall them. This shone forth glori-
ously to me in those words, ' Happy is that people
that is in such a case : yea, happy is that people
whose God is the Lord.' The cxixth psalm was also
very precious to me. Oh, how has my soul breathed
out its desires to God, for life and holiness, in that
psalm ! I saw such a hatefulness in sin, that made
me loathe it ; and such an excellency in holiness,
that made it exceeding desirable to me. Insomuch,
that I once thought, ' Well, if I must go to hell at
last, I desire I may be holy here !' This, though I
can hardly account for, I well remember. A sense
of the wonderful goodness and forbearance of God
did at that time mightily overpower my heart ;
which, together with the suitableness of holiness to
the new nature wrought in my soul, I judge to be
the reason thereof. And I cannot but think, that
there must have been some hopes that I should find
mercy, at the bottom of it also, which wound up my
heart to that pitch of love to God and holiness;
although I was so far from assurance of it, that I
put it as a question : as, * suppose I should not, or,
if I should not find mercy at last, I desire I may be
holy here I'

" And I may just mention a temptation with which
I was assaulted. When the Lord had shewn me
the plague of my own heart, the filthiness of all my
best performances, and wrought up my soul into
hatred of sin, and love to holiness, Satan set upon

238 MEMOIRS OF

me thus: ' You would not sin against God for a
world : your prayers are sin ; therefore you should
not pray/ And he backed his temptation with this
word : * The sacrifice (or prayer) of the wicked is
an abomination to the Lord/ By which I was
struck down as with a thunderbolt, and filled with
deep distress. I had but this one way of venting
the bitterness of my soul ; and if this was shut up,
I knew not what to do. But it pleased the Lord to
deliver me from the power of this temptation in a
little time, by shewing me that it was my duty to
pray, and a great sin to neglect it ; and that though
I could not pray without sin, yet, it was a greater
sin not to pray.

" As for converse with Christian friends, I had
not that advantage, by reason of a temptation,
which I mostly lay under ; that I should prove but a
hypocrite, that my concern would wear off as my
former convictions had done, and that I should
return again to folly ; and therefore it was better to
say nothing. I accordingly endeavoured to conceal
my trouble ; but it was too great to be hid from my
dear parents. I could never read in the family, but
my deep concern was very visible, although I strove
to refrain tears. And I remember that one time in
particular, my dear father observing the same, took
occasion to speak to me about my soul, and would
fain have known how it was with me. And though
I longed to tell him of my misery, and bewail my
undone estate, yet, lying under the above-mentioned
temptation, I could say nothing, but only broke out
into a flood of tears,

" The concern of my soul was now exceeding
great, beyond what I had ever before been ac-
quainted with, and was attended with this diflference ;
in all my former convictions I was glad to get my
trouble off, and ease of conscience as soon as pos-
sible. But now I dreaded nothing more than that

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 239

my concern should wear off, without a saving con-
version to Christ, and the Lord himself speaking
life and comfort to my soul. I knew that if I was
left, in a state of unbelief, to find ease and rest any
where else than in the bosom of Christ, I must
perish for ever ; and therefore I had a great dread of
carnal security. I was desirous to be wounded to
the quick, to be searched to the bottom, and to
endure the pain of my wounds, until Christ's own
hand should heal me. And the knowledge I had
that it was God's usual way, first to kill and then to
make alive, was of great use to me, and afforded me
some hopes, that the present death and distress I-
w^as under, might be but in order to my joy and
life for evermore. And therefore I feared the least
interval of distress, if not upon a right foundation.

'* Another means the Lord w^as pleased to make
use of, was a book that was cast into my hands,
which treated of the happiness and glory of the
saints in heaven, as it consists in a perfect enjoy-
ment of God, and conformity to him. This book
was greatly blest to my soul, to give me to see more
of, and long more earnestly for, the transcendent
happiness of God's people."

'* Thus I went on, one while in hopes, another
while in fears, for about four months ; and no
satisfaction could I get of ray interest in the Lord
Jesus.

'' At length, it pleased the Lord to visit me with
a very dangerous illness ; a fever with convulsions
in the nerves to a violent degree, so that my life
was despaired of. All means used for my recovery
proving ineffectual, I was given up by the physicians,
and judged by all that saw me to be very near
death. My body was filled with exquisite pain;
but the agonies of my soul were a much greater
distress. Death stared me in the face. I thought
myself just ready to launch into a vast eternity,
and knew not what would become of my poor soul.

240 MEMOIRS OF

And now my distress rose high indeed : the waves
and billows of God's apprehended wrath passed
over me. I sank in deep waters, where there was
no standing. Necessity was upon me ; I must ven-
ture on Christ or perish, believe, or die ; and the
conflict of my soul, between faith and unbelief,
was exceeding great. Like a man drowning, I
catched at every twig ; I laboured to take hold of
the promises to keep me from sinking. But if I
got a little support one moment, my innumerable
transgressions, as so many weights, came pressing
in upon me and sunk me the next. Oh here lay
the difficulty, to believe for myself in the face of so
much sin and guilt ! The avenger of blood was at
my heels, Christ Jesus the hope of sinners was in
my view : my soul was fleeing for refuge to lay
hold thereon, but oh the weights which hung about
me, did much hinder my motion, the speediness of
my flight ! My friends laboured to comfort me :
but I have oft thought this verse very expressive of
ray case at that time :

* Kind was the pity of my friends,
But could not ease my smart :
Their words indeed did reach my case,
But could not reach my heart.*

'' Nature conflicted with the disease some days,
until, being quite spent, I was brought in all appear-
ance unto the point of death ; my parents being
put out of the room, that they might not see me
depart. I could not speak, but had my senses
perfectly.

" And now, behold the time of my extremity was
God's opportunity : he made the storm a calm, and
brought me to my desired haven. I had faith given
me in that word, ' Him that cometh unto me, I
will in no wise cast out.' And oh, the infinite grace
and faithfulness I saw in it! Now I could believe
for myself in the face of ten thousand discourage-

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 241

ments. I came to Christ just as I was, a guilty,
filthy, undone sinner; Christ received me ; I trusted
my soul with him, believing, that in infinite grace
and faithfulness he would in no wise cast me out.
Thus I was enabled to take God at his word, and
set to my seal that He is true. Nothing less than
the exceeding greatness of God's power could have
raised up my soul from those depths of unbelieving
fears, to faith in Jesus ! It was nothing less than
an Almighty voice, that, with one word of free grace,
could create peace in my troubled soul, and cause
both winds and waves to be still !"

" Now the day began to dawn ; glorious light,
even the light of life, sprang in ; and death and dark-
ness fled before it ! Now I could look upon the near
approach of my dissolution with comfort, and take
pleasure in the views of eternity. Oh, thought I,
before another hour I shall be landed in glory !
And had I died then, I am well satisfied that
my soul had been exceeding safe in the arms of
Christ."

** But lo ! my wonder-working God not only
wrought wonders for my soul, but for my body also.
An unthought-of means was proposed to my parents,
who had given me up, and designed to use no more.
But, however, being pressed to make another experi-
ment, they yielded. My case was desperate; the
remedy was so. A very skilful, though a very pro-
fane person, ordered it. I received the potion, and
it put nature into a mighty struggle for a time ; but
the Lord blessed it, and ordered its operations for
life. My convulsed motions ceased, and I strangely
revived, and could speak in a little time."

*' But oh, the difference of my language ! I before
had made my complaint in the bitterness of my
soul. But now my mouth was filled with praises.
Every corner of my soul being overflowed with love,
life, and peace. Oh the joy of God's salvation,
which I now felt! It was indeed unspeakable,

VOL. II. M

242 MEMOIRS OF

and full of glory. I was raised from the gates of
hell, to the borders of heaven. And the depths I
was raised from, made the heights I was raised to,
the more amazing. I felt the rock beneath me ; and
my feet being securely fixed upon Christ, I looked
with amazing wonder, both upward and downward ;
downward to that horrible pit I was delivered from,
and upward to those heights of glory I should be
raised to. And oh, how I admired and adored dis-
tinguishing grace ! Now I could bless the Lord that
ever I had a being, and in the joy of my heart, break
out thus : Oh, why me, why me, when thousands
perish ? How is it that I should be a vessel of mercy,
that have deserved to have been a vessel of wrath
for ever ; that I should be saved by free grace I
What manner of love is this, that has plucked me as
a brand out of the burning, while others are passed
by, and left to perish, as the due desert of sin!
' Bless the Lord, O my soul ! and all that is within
me, bless his holy name ! ' I saw not only that
Christ would not cast me out, but that he received
me to the glory of God ; and that the joy of God's
favour which now filled my heart, was an earnest of,
' and would issue in, that fulness of joy, and those
rivers of pleasures, which are at his right hand for
evermore.'"

'* A few days after this, I was so well recovered,
as to be left alone in my bed, it being market-day ;
but surely I may say I was never less alone than at
that time. The blessed Spirit did, as it were, take
me by the hand, and led me to take a survey of
Christ, in all the steps of his humiliation, from his birth
to his death, as the man of sorrows, and acquainted
with grief for me. He led me to take a view of
Christ on the cross, in the agonies of his soul, and
torments of his body, as bearing my sin, enduring
my hell, giving up himself a sacrifice in my room
and stead; to redeem me from endless misery, to
eternal glory. I viewed all my sins meeting upon

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 243

Jesus ; and saw him wounded for my transgressions,
and bruised for mine iniquities. And oh, the infinity
of grace which I saw% both in the Father's and
Christ's heart, in this wonderful contrivance of
infinite vvisdom, to save me by a crucified Jesus !
In the finished work of redemption, I viewed my
salvation wrought out, and a perfection of peace,
pardon, life, and glory, come flowing down to
me in the freest grace, through the blood of Christ."
" And oh the power of the cross! The display of
boundless grace herein, set my soul a burning ! I
looked, and loved ! yea, I looked and mourned !
The fire of Divine love melted my soul down, and
made mine eyes a fountain of tears ! Now I looked
on him v/hom 1 had pierced, and mourned indeed ;
with the sweetest, and yet the bitterest mourning
that ever my soul felt. The exceeding riches of
grace in the free, full, and eternal pardon of all my
sins through a bleeding Redeemer, filled my soul
with unspeakable joy and sweetness; and yet, at
the same time, as I viewed my sins against Christ,
meeting upon him, piercing and wounding of him, I
was in such bitterness for him, that 1 never before
found ! Oh, thought I, were my sins the whips and
nails? Did these cause his agonies, wound his soul,
fill his bitter cup ; which, in infinite love, he drank
off for me? Oh vile worm that lam ! Oh hateful
sin! thou art the most loathsome, abominable thing
in my sight! It was me the dear Lord Jesus loved,
and yet it was I that pierced him! And oh, how
this pierced my soul ! Thus I was in bitterness for
him ; which yet was very consistent with those
unspeakable joys of redeeming love, which at the
same time filled my heart. This was one of the
sweetest days I have enjoyed in this world. And in
a word, the manifestations of God's love to my soul
in this affliction were so great, that I have thought I
could freely endure the same a£:onies asfain, if I
might have the same comforts. But, to go on.

M 2

244 MEMOIRS OF

'' The Lord raised me up from a sick-bed, from
death to life both in soul and body. I was, as it
were, brought forth into a new world : all [things
appeared new to me. I conversed with new objects ;
or rather in a new manner with the same glorious
objects I had some gUmmerings of before. I felt
new afflictions, desires, delights, &c. I found my-
self delivered from Mount Sinai, and brought to
Mount Sion, the city of the living God. ReUgious
duties were now very precious to me, such as hear-
ing, reading, praying, meditation, and converse
with Christians; and much of God I enjoyed in
them. The saints were now my own company : I
esteemed them the excellent of the earth, in whom
was all my delight. Lord's-days were the joy of my
heart. Sabbaths indeed to me. And the soul-rest
of my faith which I enjoyed thereon, received an
additional sweetness, as I viewed it an earnest of my
eternal rest in the bosom of Christ. In short, my
conversation was in heaven, and the world, sin,
and Satan, under my feet. And I was ready to think
I should always live so ; the sin of my nature being
at this time so mightily borne down by those full
tides of love and life, which overflowed my heart.
But, alas ! 1 soon found that I was not got out of the
reach of my spiritual enemies.

" As I was engaged 'in devout meditation, a vile
thought darted into my mind, which struck me with
a strange surprise ; and I was straightway assaulted
with a violent temptation, namely, that all the ex-
perience I had of the Lord's loving-kindness, was
but mere delusion. Those words came thundering
in upon me with amazing terror, * God shall send them
strong delusion, that they should believe a lie ; that
they all might be damned.' And thus Satan applied
them : ' That I had even wearied God with my in-
cessant prayers ; and that therefore he had given me
up to this strong delusion, to believe my safety in
Christ, which was indeed but a lie ; that so I might

MRS. ANN DUTTON. 245

be damned, and go to hell quietly/ And the vile
thought above mentioned, he called in as a witness
of my being still in a state of sin. I had been re-
joicing in Christ as mine. But oh, the thought of
being deceived, and that my very comfort was but a
delusion, sent on purpose that I might go to hell
securely, — what agony and torment did it put my
soul into! 1 was, as it were, snatched from the
bosom of Christ, and plunged into the belly of hell.
And, alas ! I knew not what to say to Satan, nor
how to defend myself. This thought that passed
through my heart was unexpected to me; and I
knew not how to reconcile it with my being in a state
of grace.

** But in my distress I ran to God, and shewed
before him all my trouble. I poured out my com-
plaint into his bosom, and he was graciously pleased
to send me an answer of peace immediately. Before
I got off my knees, Romans, vii. 15. was brought to
mind with great light and glory. Oh then it was
that the Lord, the Spirit, did first open to me the
mystery of sin and grace, the new and old nature
both dwelling together in my poor soul ; and that I
must expect a conflict, and had no reason to question
his work upon my heart, because I found such con-
trarieties thereto working in me. The experience
of the great apostle did also give me a mighty lift,
where he says, * That which 1 do, I allow not ; for
what I would, that do I not ; but what I hate, that
do I. Now if I do what 1 would not, it is no more
I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me,' &c. And
having with him groaned out my own wretchedness
by reason of an indwelHng body of sin and death, I
was made, in believing views of deliverance, to give
thanks to God, through Christ .Tesus my Lord ; and
to conclude as he doth, * So then with the mind I
myself serve the law of God, but with the flesh the
law of sin.' Thus the Lord gave me the victory at
this time : and the instructions I then received, have
been of use to my soul ever since.

246 MEMOIRS OF

" Quickly after this, I was assaulted with blasphe-
mous thoughts, attended with a strong impulse to
utter them ; which put my soul to pain. But,
blessed be my God, this lasted but a little while :
he rebuked the devouier, enabled me to run into
Christ my refuge, and there I found peace and
safety. I was also tempted to question the being of
God, which was very distressing while it lasted. But
through grace 1 was scon delivered. And many
were the combats I had with Satan and unbelief,
about my interest in the Lord Jesus. And when I
knew not what to think, whether 1 was a believer or
not, [ have many tmies been helped to come to
Christ as a poor sinner, just as I came at first ; being
sweetly drawn by the indefinite promises of the
gospel to venture on Christ afresh, to cast myself
into his arms, to come to him with all my weights
and burdens : and in his bosom 1 always found rest.

" I remember once, as I was attempting to come
to Christ weary and heavy laden, that word was
again brought to my mind with great power and
sweetness, ' Him that cometh unto me, 1 will in no-
wise cast cut.' So that I was filled with exceeding
gladness in the views of my safety in Christ's arms.
But presently Satan came in Vv'ith a temptation,
thus : ' You come to Christ as a poor sinner, and
think he will receive you as such : but he receives
none but such as are given him of his Father : and
if you are not one of those, your coming to Christ
will signify nothing; you will be cast out notwith-
standing: it is those whom his Father has given
him, that he will in nowise cast out' Oh, the pain
and distress this cast-my soul into ! Now I knew not
what to do. However, I ran immediately to God,
and told him how I had been robbed and spoiled of
my comfort; and prayed him to give me some other
word of promise, or else to bring the same again,
with such mighty power, that nothing might be able
to take away my joy of faith in it. And his ear
being open to my cry, he presently gave me an an-

MRS. ANN DUTTON. 247

swer to my request. The same word was brought
again with such power, light, and glory, that made
Satan and unbelief fly before it. * All that the
Father giveth me, shall come to me/ Here 1 saw,
that the Father's o-ift of any soul to Christ, was ante-
cedent to its coming to him ; and also that it did
secure its coming; that all the given ones shall come
under the Father's drawings, and that none but they
could come ; and then, from the latter part of the
words [ saw, tliat so coming, I should in nowise be
cast out. But oh, the glorious light that now filled
my heart! I saw with amazing wonder, that eternal
security I had, both in the Father's and in Christ's
hands ! I viewed my standing in the Father's grace,
as a given one to Christ ; and that it was nothing-
less than the almighty power of his own arm, that
drew my soul to Jesus ; and that being thus brought
by the Father to Christ, he v/ould keep me safe for
ever. Thus the Lord brought me out of darkness
and the shadow of death, and brake my bands
in sunder. Many were the temptations which at
times I met with ; but out of them all the Lord
delivered me. And, for the most part, I walked
comfortably on in the light of God's countenance.
And it was but a little while ere the Lord broke
in with glorious light, in that word : ' I will come
again, and receive you to myself, that where I am,
there ye may be also.' I had been just before
thinking of the unspeakable happiness of the saints
at home with Christ, in that they were ever present
with the Lord. And oh how suitable was this
word to me, while mourning under absence ! My
dear Lord opened his heart to me herein, and told
me, that it would be but a little while ere he would
receive me to himself, that where he was, I might
be also ; and that then I should be everlastingly
filled with the enjoyment of him whom my soul
loved. But oh, how I rejoiced in my happy lot,
to be for ever with him ! Thus my comnmnion

248 MEMOIRS OF

with Christ began. And that evening I had such
discoveries of his love to my soul, and of that
eternal glory he had prepared for me, which filled
me with joy unspeakable : and I thought eternity
little enough to praise him for that visit. Oh the
realizing views, and sweet foretastes I then had of
the good land.

*' But, alas ! all this while, babe-like, I rather
lived upon promises given in, than upon Christ in
them. I knew not how to believe without sight.
So long as God's love flowed into my soul, and my
love flowed out to him again, under the attraction
of his first love, just so long I could believe. But
when the sweet sensation abated, my faith began
to sink with it. But my kind Lord always brought
me some cordial or other to support me in my faint-
ing fits. After this manner I was carried on for a
year, or little more, (as near as I can remember,)
before the Lord brought me to some stability, and
strength of faith in the dark.

" Thus 1 have given a brief, though a broken ac-
count of the work of Divine grace upon my heart
in a saving conversion to Christ. The glory of it
is much marred by the shortness of my memory.
But, however, I may sum up what I have said in the
words of the Psalmist, * I waited patiently for the
Lord, and he inclined unto me and heard my cry.
He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out
of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock.' He
likewise, after this, was graciously pleased to esta-
blish my goings.

"It pleased the Lord, in the fifteenth year of my
age, to incline my heart to join with a church of
Christ in N. over which the late Mr. H. was pastor.
Under his ministry being fed with the milk of the
word, which was suited to my present state, I grew
thereby. So that, from precious experience of the
Lord's loving-kindness in Sion, I could say with the
Psalmist : ' A day in thy courts is better than a

MRS. ANN DUTTON. 249

thousand : I had rather be a door-keeper in the
house of my God, than dwell in the tents of wicked-
ness/ The sight of God*s power and glory in the
sanctuary, was precious to my soul, and fello\yship
with the saints was sweet. But yet, as I hinted
before, I too much lived upon enjoyments, and took
up God's love to me, as to the steady persuasion of
it, in the light of my own sanctification. I delighted
to have my interest in Christ tried by all the marks
and signs of a believer, which were continually laid
down in the ministry. When I could find them,
my heart was filled with joy ; but, if there were any
I did not clearly discern, I sunk in sorrow. I was
willing to have my faith in the promise tried by
the fruits and eifects of it in my heart and life.
And so childish was I, that I looked for the effects
of faith, when faith was not in exercise : which is
just as if a person should look for the beauty of the
spring in the autumn season, or seek to know what
o'clock it is by the dial, when the sun does not
shine on it. And while I went this way to work,
I never attained settled assurance. No, the soul
that enters into this rest by faith, must have some-
what more stable than fleetins; frames to lean on.
To go on then.

'* Such was the wonderful kindness of my God,
that after I believed I was sealed with the Holy
Spirit of promise, it pleased the Lord to take me by
the arms, and teach me to go in the way of faith,
when I had not spiritual sense. I had been once, I
remember, at a meeting of prayer ; but, not meeting
with God in it, I returned very sad. And as I was
lamenting my case, that word was brought to my
mind, * Rejoice in the Lord alway : and again I say,
rejoice.' But my heart straightway replied, * I have
not enjoyed God to-night, and how can I rejoice?'
Then the word broke in again upon my heart with
such a ray of glorious light, that directed my soul to
the true and proper object of its joy, even the Lord

M 5

250 MEMOIRS OF

himself. I was pointed hereto as with a finger, ' In
the Lord, not in your frames. In the Lord; not in
what you enjoy from him, hut in what you oxe in
him.' And the Lord sealed my instruction, and
filled my heart brimful of joy, in the faith of my
eternal interest and unchangeable standing in him,
and of his being an infinite fountain of blessedness
for me to rejoice in alway, even when the streams of
sensible enjoyments failed. Thus the blessed Spirit
took me by the arms, and taught me to go.

*' But yet, I was attended with much weakness,
and oft ready to stagger through unbelief. And at
such seasons, I was for putting forth my hand to lay
hold on past experiences; the remembrance of which
at times has been precious to my soul. But when
I sought for my satisfactions from hence, instead of
deriving all my life and comfort from Christ by fresh
acts of faith, the Lord in great mercy was pleased to
draw a veil over his work upon my soul, and direct
me to stay myself upon my God, even when I
walked in the dark as to present enjoyments, and
had not the light of past experience. And this was
to make me die unto a life of sense, in order to
raise me up to an higher life of faith upon the Son
of God.

'' And to this end, the Lord the Spirit went on to
reveal Christ more and more to me, as the great
foundation of my faith and joy. He shewed me my
everlasting standing in his person, grace, and righte-
ousness ; and gave me to see my security in his
unchangeableness, under all the changes which
passed over me. And then I began to rejoice in my
dear Lord Jesus as always the same, even when my
frames altered. And further, my heart was directed
into the everlasting love of the Father, and the im-
mutability of his eternal counsels and covenant about
my salvation, as the ground of my strong consola-
tion, under all the mutations I felt in my own soul.
That word was very precious to me, ^ Wherein God,

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 251

willing more abundantly to shew unto the heirs of
promise the immutability of his counsel, confirmed
it by an oath ; that by two immutable things, in
which it was impossible for God to lie, we might
have a strong; consolation,' &c. Oh the o-race and
faithfulness of God which I saw in it ! The Holy
Ghost took the word in pieces, and led me into
every part of it, and likewise confirmed it by other
scriptures. Thus the Lord began to establish me,
and settle my faith upon its solid basis. About this
time also, the Lord was pleased mightily to impress
upon my heart the great duty of taking God at his
word, in the declarations of his grace in his Son,
and likewise of crediting the Holy Ghost's testimony
in my soul in the word of promise ; by means of
which, I was enabled to resist the temptations I met
with to cast away my confidence.

" I have likewise experienced, when assaulted by
Satan and unbelief, that by an immediate flight to
Christ I have got the victory many a time. I found
it a vain thing to stand disputing with these enemies
about my past experience. And being in some good
measure inured to a life of faith, I hasted away to
Christ upon the first assault. And I have often
found, that a direct act of faith, or a fresh venture
on Christ, has been attended with a reflex act*, or a
full persuasion of my eternal safety in him, as having
fled for refuge to lay hold on this hope set before me.
For I saw it my duty, not only to obey the command
of God in believing on the name of his Son Jesus
Christ, but also to take him at his word, as to mv
having eternal life in him as such. An instance
or two of my experience in this kind I may just
mention.

* This was a common distinction among old divines themselves,
but a very inaccurate one. 'Every act of faith is direct. What
they quaintly called the rejies act, was a reflecting on the act ; and
matter of experience rather than of faith.

252 MEMOIRS OF

*' I was once rejoicing in the Lord, and in the
wondrous blessings which surrounded me in him ;
and Satan came boldly in upon me, and told me,
* That I was rejoicing in that which was none of
mine ;' and urged, that I was not a believer. Upon
which, I stood not to dispute with him about my
past acts of faith, as I had too often done, but an-
swered him thus : * Well, if I never have believed
yet, it is time for me to do it now.' And immedi-
ately I attempted a fresh act of faith. I queried
with myself thus : How is it with me now at this
very moment ? Do I see Christ to be a full, free,
mighty Saviour? And is it the command of God
that I should believe on him whom he hath sent?
Then let me venture on him for myself. And that
word came in, ' Verily, verily, I say unto you, he
that believeth on me hath everlasting life.' I saw
that believing was venturing, casting, trusting my
soul in the hands of Jesus. And while I attempted
to commit myself to him, I felt power enabling me
to cast myself, as an undone sinner in myself, for all
salvation, into the arms of Christ, as the mighty
Saviour of God's providing. And upon this direct
act of faith, I attempted a reflex act, or a believing
that I then had everlasting life in him, taking up my
persuasion hereof upon the infinite truth and faith-
fulness of Christ's word. And strong was my con-
solation, while I believed Christ's 'Verily, verily,'
&c. The words were thus opened to me : ' Verily,
verily ;' a double asseveration, giving the highest
assurance of the thing to which it is annexed. ' I
say unto you :' I that know both mine and my
Father's heart, counsels, and designs about the sal-
vation of sinners : I that am truth itself, and cannot
lie or be unfaithful.' * I say unto you, he that
believeth on me hath everlasting life.' He hath it
in the right of it, as mine and my Father's grant.
He hath it really, let sin and Satan say what they
will to contradict it. He hath it irreversibly, un-

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 253

alterably ; and none of the powers of darkness can
hinder it. But oh, the triumph of faith I then broke
forth into !

^' For, as Christ is ' able to save to the uttermost
all them that come unto God by him/ Heb. vii. 25,
so, he is as willing as he is able. The infinite
willingness of his heart is as large as the almighty
power of his arm. What encouragement then hast
thou to come to Christ, who has promised to give
thee rest ; to cast thyself into his arms, and stay
upon his grace, power, and faithfulness, who has
declared that he * will in nowise cast out ' any poor
sinner that comes unto him, the great Saviour. He
has given thee his great word, that he is willing to
save thee. Canst thou believe it? Or darest thou,
through unbelief, give him the lie ? Ah, poor soul !
Christ has been beforehand with thee in willingness.
If he had not been first willing to save thee, thou
hadst never been made willing to be saved by him.
His love has been a love preventing thee. He did
not stay for thy willingness, but began thy salvation
in giving thee a new nature before thou began to
breathe after it ; that so thou mightest desire life, and
come to him for it. How welcome then shalt thou
be to his gracious heart and open arms ! Thou canst
not please him better than to come to him just as
thou art, a miserable, helpless, undone sinner, for
all the mercy, grace, and salvation thou wantest.
He will not send thee away empty. He has said,
' Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.' Psal.
Ixxxi. 10. Thou canst not ask more grace than he
has to bestow, and is willing to give. He delights
to fill such needy, empty souls as thou art. This
was the great end of his death : his heart was so
willing to save thee, that he died for thee, that he
might accomplish it. Yea, so intense was his desire
to save thee, that thy salvation was part of the joy
set before him, for which he endured the cross. He
took pleasure in the thoughts of it so long since ;

254 MEMOIRS OF

and the joy of it, fore-viewecl, carried him through
the agonies of death. And now the bitter work is over,
and he is advanced to the right hand of God, having
all power in heaven and earth given him, that he
might give eternal life to sinners ; dost thou think
his heart is changed? No; as he died for thee on
the cross, so, he lives for thee on the throne. He is
* Jesus Christ, the same,' in his boundless love, grace,
and mercy, * yesterday, to-day, and for ever,' Heb.
xiii. 8. He is not now to die for thee ; though such
is his unchangeable grace, that, if it were yet to do,
he would go through death to save thee; but, blessed
be God, that work is done, for ever done, and full
salvation, eternal redemption obtained. And having
purposed to save thee by the Almighty power of his
arm, dost thou think he will now deny thy request,
when to do it, would be to deny himself, not only in
the grace of his heart, but in the very end of his
death ? And canst thou think that his love, that is
strong enough to die for thee, will not give thee life,
when he can save thee now with a word of his
mouth ! Oh believe it, the willingness of Christ's
heart to save thee, doth infinitely surpass the largest
desires of thy soul after his salvation. What should
hinder thee, then, from an immediate running into
Christ's bosom, since there is such room for thee in
his heart? I dare say, nothing but thy unbelief;
and, blessed be God, that shall not hinder thee
always, neither. But, if thou still doubtest his
willingness to embrace thee, I will only say, as
Philip to Nathaniel, ' Come and see :' come and try
his boundless grace, and see if it be not every way
as large as the omnipotent power of his arm ! Oh
come and cast thyself at the Saviour's feet, and say,
as that poor man did, who was full of leprosy, ' Lord,
if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.' And Jesus,
in the infinity of his grace, will answer thee as he
did him, and say, * I will, be thou clean.' "

MRS. ANN BUTTON. 255

We learn incidentally from the subsequent account
which Mrs. Dutton gives of the dispensations of
Providence towards her, that she entered into the
marriage state when she was but two and twenty
years of age. No particulars are given, but she
appears not to have long survived her marriage.
She may probably be ranked with those instances of
premature ripeness of character which God seems to
honour by an early removal of the individual from a
world of temptation and sorrow into the presence of
their Lord.

256 MEMOIRS OF

LADY HUNTINGDON.

Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, was the daughter
of Washington, Earl Ferrers. She was born August
24, 1707, and married June 3, 1728, to Theophilus,
Earl of Huntingdon.

When about nine years old, seeing the corpse of a
child about her own age carried by to the grave, she
was led to attend the funeral; and there the first
impressions of deep concern about an eternal world
laid hold of her conscience ; and with many tears
she cried earnestly on the spot to God, that whenever
he should be pleased to call her hence, he would
deliver her from all her fears, and give her a happy
departure : she often afterwards visited the grave,
and always preserved a lively sense of the affecting
scene.

Though no clear views of evangelical truth had
hitherto been opened to her mind, she frequently
retired to her closet, and poured out her heart to
God. When she grew up, and was introduced into the
world, she constantly prayed that if she married, it
might be into a serious family. None kept up more
of the ancient dignity of English nobility, or were
more amiable in a moral view, than the house of
Huntingdon, with the head of which family she
became united. Lady Betty and Lady Margaret
Hastings, his lordship's sisters, were women of sin-
gular excellence.

Her sister-in-law. Lady Margaret, was brought to
the saving knowledge of the gospel under the preach-
ing of the zealous methodists of that time. Con-
versing one day with Lady Margaret on this subject.
Lady Huntingdon was very much struck with an
expression which she uttered, ^' That since she had

LADY HUNTINGDON. 257

known and believed in the Lord Jesus Christ for
life and salvation, she had been as happy as an
angel." To any such sensations of happiness,
Lady H. felt that she was as yet a stranger. A
dangerous illness having soon after this brought her
to the brink of the grave, the fear of death fell
terribly upon her, and her conscience was greatly
distressed. Under these affecting circumstances, the
words of Lady Margaret returned strongly to her
recollection, and she felt an earnest desire, renounc-
ing all other hope, to cast herself wholly upon Christ.
She lifted up her heart to Jesus the Saviour in prayer,
on which her distress and fear were removed, and
she was filled with joy and peace in believing. Her
disorder soon took a favourable turn, and she was
not only restored to perfect health, but, w^hat was
infinitely better, to newness of life, and determined
thenceforward to present herself to God *' as a living
sacrifice, holy and acceptable," which she was now
convinced was her " reasonable service."

The change which Divine grace thus w^rought
upon her, soon became observable to all around, by
the open confession which she made of the faith once
delivered to the saints, and by the zealous support
which she gave to the cause of God, amidst all the
reproach with which it was attended. She had set
her face as a flint, and was not ashamed of Christ
and his cross. There were not wanting indeed some
who, under the guise of friendship, wished Lord
Huntingdon to interpose his authority; but, however
he differed from her in sentiment, he continued to
shew her the same affection and respect, and, on his
demise, left her the entire management of her chil-
dren and of their fortunes.

Some of the dignified clergy were not so candid
and liberal, as appears from the following authentic
anecdote. Her ladyship, one day, in conversation
with Dr. Benson, bishop of Gloucester, (who had
been the tutor of Lord H. and had ordained Mr.

258 MEMOIRS OF

Whitefield,) pressed him so hard with the articles
and homilies, and so plainly and faithfully urged
upon him the awful responsibility of his station, that
his temper was ruffled, and he rose in haste to depart,
bitterly lamentino; that he had ever laid his hands on
George Whitefield, to whom he imputed, though
without cause, the change wrought in her Ladyship:
** My lord," said she, calling him back, *' mark my
words : when you come upon your dying bed, that
will be one of the few ordinations you will reflect
upon with complacence." It deserves remark, that
bishop Benson on his dying bed sent ten guineas to
Mr. Whitefield, as a token of his favour, and begged
to be remembered by him in his prayers.

During Lord Huntingdon's life, his Countess-
warmly espoused the cause of God and truth, thougli
her means of usefulness were necessarily circum-
scribed, and her family engagements occupied much
of her time and attention. Become her own mistress,
she resolved to devote herself wholly to the service
of Christ. Her zealous heart embraced cordially all
whom she esteemed real Christians, whatever their
denomination or opinions might be ; but being
herself in sentiment more congenial with Mr. White-
field, than the Mr. W~esleys, she favoured those
especially who were the ministers of the Calvinistic
persuasion, according to the literal sense of the
Articles of the Church of England. With an inten-
tion of giving them a greater scene of usefulness,
she opened her house in Park-street for the preach-
ing of the gospel, supposing that, as a peeress of the
realm, she had an indisputable right to employ,
as her family chaplains, those ministers of the church
whom she patronised. On the week days, her
kitchen was filled with the poor of the flock, for
whom she provided instruction ; and on the Lord's-
day, the great and noble were invited to spend the
evening in her drawing-room, where Mr. Whitefield,
Mr., Romaine, Mr. Jones, and other ministers of

LADY HUNTINGDON. 259

Christ, were heard with apparently deep and serious
attention.

The ilhiess of her younger son, which proved fatal,
liad led her Ladyship to Brighthelm stone, for the
sake of sea-bathing. There, the follov/ing singular
circumstance occurred, whicli Lady H. related to
Mr. Toplady, and which is published from his own
manuscript in his posthumous works. A gentle-
woman, who lived in the vicinity of Brighthelmstone,
dreamed, that a tall lady, whose dress she partTicu-
larly noticed, would come to that town, and be an
instrument of doing much good. It was about three
years after this dream, that Lady H. went down
thither, on the occasion already mentioned. One
day, the above gentlewoman met her Ladyship in
the street, and, on seeing her, exclaimed, " O,
madam, you are come !" Lady H., surprised at
the oddity of such an address from an entire stranger,
thought at first the woman was out of her senses.
** What do you know of me ?" said the Countess.
" Madam," returned the person, '' I saw you in a
dream three years ago, dressed just as you appear
now," — and related the whole of the dream to her.
In consequence of the acquaintance which was then
formed between them. Lady H. was made instru-
mental in her conversion, and she died about a year
after in the triumph of faith.

In selecting preachers for the supply of her chapels.
Lady Huntingdon at first confined herself to the
ministers of the Established Church, many of whom
accepted her invitation, and laboured in the places
which she had opened. But her zeal enlarging with
her success, and a great variety of persons through-
out the kingdom begging her assistance, in London
and many of the most populous cities, she purchased,
built, or hired, chapels for the performance of Divine
service. As these multiplied through England,
Ireland, and Wales, the ministers who had before
laboured for her Ladyship, were unequal to the task ;

260 MEMOIRS OF

and some were unwilling to move in a sphere sO
extensive, and which began to be branded as irregular,
and to meet great opposition. Many, however,
persevered in their services, and were content to
bear the cross. In order to provide proper persons
for the work of the ministry, her Ladyship now
retired to South Wales, and erected a chapel and
college in the parish of Talgarth, Brecknockshire
The chapel was opened in 1768. The college was
provided with able teachers, and soon filled with
students. From that retirement. Lady Huntingdon
despatched the requisite supplies for the increasing
congregations under her patronage ; and as the calls
were often urgent, her students were too frequently
thrust forth into the harvest, before they had made
any considerable proficiency in the languages or in
sacred literature, in which it had been her intention
that they should be instructed. Few of them knew
much more than their native tongue ; yet, being
men of strong sense and real devotedness to God,
their ministry was greatly blessed, and the accounts
of their success animated her to greater exertions.
They were itinerant — moved from congregation to
congregation in a rotation ; and her correspondence
with them, to regulate and provide a constant supply,
was a labour to which her active spirit alone was
equal. The seminary in Wales ceased at her lady-
ship's death, the lease being just expired, and no
enclowment being left, as her income died with her.
Her Ladyship still devising plans for the diffusion
of the Gospel, especially in places where Satan had
his seat, erected, in the year 1769, a chapel at Tun-
bridge Wells, so much frequented at that time by
the great and gay of the metropolis, and still a place
of fashionable resort. Nor was the metropolis itself,
that emporium of error and dissipation, forgotten by
her benevolent and ardent mind. A large building
in Spa-Fields, called the Pantheon, had been erected
for entertaining parties of pleasure, especially on the

LADY HUNTINGDON. 261

Lord's-day. The Rev. Herbert Jones and William
Taylor, two clergymen under the patronage of Lady
Huntingdon, engaged the place for religious worship ;
and it was opened, July 6, 1777, with a sermon by
the former clergyman on the appropriate text, Gen.
xxviii. 19, '* And he (Jacob) called the name of that
place Bethel ; but the name of that city was
called Luz, at the first." The place will contain
more than two thousand. This chapel, however,
soon became an object of dislike to the strict mem-
bers of the Establishment. Accordingly, a suit was
instituted by the minister of the parish of Clerkenwell,
in the consistorial court of the Bishop of London,
against the two clergymen who officiated there. To
that spiritual court they were summoned, and were
forbidden to preach there any longer, on pain of
expulsion from the Church. They chose to obey
God rather than man ; and Lady Huntingdon having
purchased the chapel, several clergymen seceded
from the Established Church, and put themselves
under the protection of the Toleration Act. These
clergymen drew up and subscribed a confession of
faith ; which was afterwards signed by all the minis-
ters in her Ladyship's connexion, and by candidates
for ordination. The first six were ordained in Spa-
Fields Chapel, March 9, 1783, by the Rev. Messrs.
Wills and Taylor. The doctrines taught in all the
Countess's chapels are strictly evangelical, and the
episcopalian mode of worship is adhered to, though
some alterations are made in the Liturgy, and in the
offices for baptism and burial.

Some years afterwards. Lady Huntingdon pur-
chased another large place in Whitechapel, which
had been intended for a theatre, and was constructed
accordingly. No material alterations were deemed
necessary ; and it was, perhaps, proper to shew, by
substantial and permanent signs, the triumph of
wisdom and goodness over folly and vice. The
dressing-rooms for the actors were converted into a

2G2 MEMOIRS OF

vestry, and the pulpit is erected on the front of the
stage. The pit is filled with the poor, to whom the
gospel is preached ; w^hile the galleries exhibit the
more respectable hearers. The place will hold five
thousand persons ; it received the name of Sion
Chapel. These were her Ladyship's principal chapels.
There are several others of less note.

Though Lady Huntingdon devoted the whole of
lier substance to the Gospel, yet, it is not a little
surprising how her income sufficed for the immense
expense in which she was necessarily involved. Her
jointure was no more than twelve hundred pounds a
year ; nor w as it till after the death of her son, a
few years preceding her own, that she had the
addition of another thousand. She often involved
herself in expenses for building chapels, which she
found it burdensome to discharge ; but Divine Pro-
vidence brought her always honourably through her
engagements, and provided a supply when her own
was exhausted.

Lady Huntingdon's person, endowments, and spirit,
were all uncommon. She was rather above the
middle size : her presence noble, and commanding
respect ; her address singularly engaging ; her in-
telligence acute ; her diligence indefatigable ; and
the constant labour of her correspondence incon-
ceivable. During forty-five years of widowhood,
she devoted her time, talents, and substance, to the
support and diffusion of the Gospel. To the age of
fourscore and upwards, she maintained all the vigour
of youth; and though, in her latter years, the con-
traction of her throat reduced her almost wholly to
a liquid diet, her spirits never seemed to fail her.
To the very last days of her life, her active mind was
planning still greater and more extensive schemes of
usefulness, for the universal spread of the gospel of
Christ.

Her most distinguishing excellence w^as, the fervent
zeal which always burned in her bosom, to make

LADY HUNTINGDOX. 263

known the gospel of the grace of God. This no
disappointments quenched, no labours slackened, no
opposition discouraged, no progress of years abated ;
it flamed strongest in her latest moments. The world
has seldom seen such a character. Thousands and
tens of thousands will have reason, living and dying,
to bless her memory, as having been the happy
instrument of bringing them out of darkness into
marvellous light ; and multitudes saved by her in-
strumentality, have met her in the regions of glory,
to rejoice together in the presence of God and of
the Lamb.

But it may be asked. Was she a perfect character?
This is not the lot of mortals on this side the grave.
When the moon walketh in her brightness, her
shadow^s are most visible. Lady Huntingdon was in
her temper warm and sanguine ; her predilections for
some, and her prejudices against others, were some-
times too hastily adopted ; and by these, she was led
to form conclusions not always correspondent to
truth and wisdom. The success attending her efforts,
seemed to impress her mind with a persuasion, that
a particular benediction would rest upon whomso-
ever she should send forth ; which rendered her
choice not always judicious, though seldom have
there been fewer offences in so extended a work.
She had so long directed the procedures of her
ecclesiastical connexion, that she too seldom asked
the advice of the judicious ministers who laboured
with her; and bore not passively contradiction.

For many years. Lady Huntingdon had two female
companions, w^ho lived with her on terms of the
most cordial friendship, Miss Scutt, and Lady Ann
Erskine ; the latter, sister to the Earl of Buchan,
and to the two famous counsellors of that name.
These ladies, particularly the latter, co-operated with
the Countess i n her work and labour of Christian love.
Both were constantly present during her last illness.

In the month of November 1790, Ladv Huntins:-

264 MEMOIRS OF

don broke a blood-vessel, which was the commence-
ment of her last illness. Being then asked how she
did, by Lady Ann, she replied, " I am well ; all is
well ! well for ever ! I see, wherever I turn my
eyes, whether I live or die, nothing but victory."
As death drew nearer, though it was delayed for some
months, she often repeated with great emphasis,
*' The coming of the Lord draweth nigh ! O Lady
Ann, the coming of the Lord draweth nigh !"
adding, *' The thought fills my soul with joy un-
speakable, whether I shall see his glory more
abundantly appear, or whether it be an intimation
of my own departure to him." At another time :
" All the little ruffles and difficulties which surround
me, and all the pains I am exercised with in this
poor body, through mercy, affect not the settled
peace and joy of my soul."

To a friend who called on her a few weeks before
her death, she said, " I see myself a poor worm
drawing near to Jesus. What hope could I enter-
tain if I did not know the efficacy of his blood,
and turn as a prisoner of hope to this hold ? How
little could any thing of mine give a moment's rest
to a departing soul ! So much sin and self mixed
with the best, and always so short of what we
owe ! — 'Tis well for us that he can pity and pardon ;
and we have confidence that he will do so. — I
confess, my dear friend, I have no hope, but that
which inspired the dying malefactor at the side of
my Lord ; and I must be saved in the same way,
as freely, as fully, or not at all." He replied,
" Madam, I cordially join you, and feel with you,
that though our lives may be devoted to the work
of Jesus, and our deaths the consequence of his
service, it is not to these sacrifices we should look
" for comfort in a dying hour." She replied, " No,
verily ;" — and enlarging, on the idea of the mixture
of infirmity and corruption which tarnished all our
best-meant services, she added ; " That a sinner

LADY HUNTINGDON. 265

could only rest satisfactorily on one foundation,
and would find nothing in the best works of his
best days, that he could dare to produce before
God for its own sake ; sufficiently blessed and
secure, if he could but cry, God be merciful to me
a sinner, and let me be found in the beloved, and
<:omplete in him." To these, in the course of a
long conversation, were added many like words of
truth and grace.

During the whole of her illness, her pains never
made her impatient; but she seemed more concerned
about those who attended her, than about herself.
She said tenderly to Lady Ann Erskine and Miss
Scutt, whose long, faithful, and tender attachment to
her is well known, '' I fear I shall be the death of
you both" (alluding to their constant watching
with her) ; — '* it will be but a few days more."

But a few days before her decease, Lady Hunting-
don said to a friend ; '* I cannot tell you in what
light I now see these words : * If a man love me,
he will keep my words, and my Father will love
him, and we will come unto him, and make our
abode with him.' . To have in this room such
company, and to have such an eternal prospect !
I see this subject now in a light impossible to be
described. I know my capacity will be then en-
larged, but I am now as sensible of the presence
of God, as I am of the presence of those I have
with me."

On the very day of her death, she conversed about
sending missionaries to Otaheite. She had often in
her lifetime mentioned, that, from the first moment
that God set her soul at liberty, she had such a
desire for the conversion of souls, that she compared
herself to a ship in full sail before the wind, and that
she was carried on by such a Divine influence as was
not easily to be described. Almost her last words
were, ** ^ly work is done, I have nothing to do but
to go to my Father." Her Ladyship died at hey

VOL. II. N

266 MEMOIRS OF

house in Spa-Fields, next door to the chapel, June
17, 1791, in the 84th year of her age.

The body, according to a direction somewhat
whimsical, was clothed in a suit of white silk, with
the same head-dress which her Ladyship usually
wore, and in that attire was buried in the family
vault, at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, in Leicestershire. Her
funeral sermon was preached at Spa-Fields ChapeU
on Lord's-day, July 3, 1791, by the Rev. David
Jones of Llangan, on Genesis, li. 24. " And Joseph
said unto his brethren, Behold 1 die, and God will
surely visit you."

LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 267

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE.

Genuine greatness and nobility, a heathen ob-
served, were to be found alone in exalted virtue ;
and we know that those great in the sight of the
Lord, are not usually to be found in high rank, or
titled ; " not many mighty, not many noble, are
called." Yet some singular exceptions are happily
seen, demonstrating that the Lord hath in his hand
the hearts of all men ; and where such rare instances
occur, they necessarily stand on an eminence, and
engage more particular attention.

The noble lady, who is the subject of this Memoir,
was the daughter of the Earl of Buchan, by a lady
of the House of Stuart, and the eldest of a numerous
family ; the surviving branches of which are still
the first ornaments of the Bar in Eno-land and
Scotland, and more distinguished by their talents
and integrity, than even by the nobility of their
descent. The great grandfather of Lady Ann was a
man of distinguished piety, and a considerable
sufferer in the cause of religious profession, in the
days of Charles the Second ; and as the names of
Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine have received a stamp
of especial reverence in the religious world, it may
not be uninteresting to observe, that they were
branches of this family. The house in which they
lived, is preserved by the present Lord Buchan,
in its primitive state, as a relic and memorial of
them.

Her early days were spent in Scotland. She
mentioned to a lady, her acquaintance, the gracious

N 2

268 MEMOIRS OF

dealings of the Lord, when she was only about
seven or eight years old. Her maid was reading to
her a little book of the nature of Janeway's Token
for Children ; and the Life of Amelia Geddie, a
little girl remarkable for early piety, made a deep
impression on her mind, which she for a while
retained. From this time, she prayed with fervour
and feeling; and, as she then thought, with real
answers to her prayer in repeated instances, both of
childish infirmity and desires. A guittar, which
she preserved to the day of her death, and which
sometimes amused her, though she was far from a pro-
ficient, Vs^as connected with one of the instances she
mentioned. Her mother, Lady Buchan, was on a
visit from home at Edinburgh, and was to bring her
something. Ann was waiting her return ; and one
day praying, she thought. What shall I ask to be
brought me? A guittar struck her mind, though
she had never learned, nor thought of it before;
and she prayed that this might be brought her. Her
mother, just coming through the street, thought of
Ann as she passed a music-shop, and preferring a
guittar to a toy, went in and bought it. " What
have I got for you, Ann V said she. " A guittar.'*
Trifling as this may seem, it left an abiding impres-
sion that there was a God who hears and answers
prayer.

As she grew up, her early impressions wore off;
and for some years, she lived like too many of her
rank and sex, in fashionable follies, and in the com-
pany of those who were stangers to themselves,
little affected about the eternal world into which
they are going, and whose frivolity and love of
pleasure left no place for matters of more solemn
consideration. About this time, the Earl of Buchan,
for his family convenience, removed to Bath ; and
there commenced her acquaintance with the excellent
Lady Huntingdon, whose life yvas spent in endea-

LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 269

vourlng to do good, and whose efforts were espe-
cially directed, at that time, to those of her own
rank and station. An acquaintance formed about
this time with the elder branches of the Hawkestone
family, eminent for their excellence, contributed to
fix the sense of Divine truths on her mind ; and she
became a professor of the principles of evangelical re-
ligion. A growing intimacy with Lady Huntingdon
contributed to confirm her mind. Some congeniality
of spirit probably engaged Lady Huntingdon to
invite Lady Ann to remain with her as her friend
and companion ; and as this was equally pleasing to
both, for many years of the latter part of Lady
Huntingdon's life, she was her constant friend and
intimate. During these years, as a helper in the
truth, she walked with her aged friend in great affec-
tion, making herself useful in assisting to discharge
the burthen of cares and eng-agements in which
Lady Huntingdon was involved ; and how w^ell she
approved herself, may be concluded from the dispo-
sition which that good lady made of her affairs to
such as she thought would most faithfully pursue
the line she had so successfully traced. At Lady
Huntingdon's decease. Lady Ann Erskine, with
several other persons, were appointed trustees and
executors of her will.

During Lady Huntingdon's life. Lady Ann was
only known as zealously disposed to promote the
cause of truth, without appearing in any prominent
character; not being by Providence favoured with
the liberal provision which her predecessor enjoyed,
and which died with her. Indeed, Lady Hunt-
ingdon's zeal always outran her income ; and though
no person ever spent so little on herself, she left such
incumbrances as her assets were unequal to dis-
charge, unless some of her chapels were disposed of.
These incumbrances, her executors and other friends
immediately undertook to discharge, and to preserve
the chapels for the purposes to which they had been

270 MEMOIRS OF

devoted. It was on this occasion that Lady Ann
Erskine was called forth to a more distinguished
station than she had yet filled. When Lady Hunt-
ingdon's disposition of her property was known, the
trustees agreed, that, as Lady Ann was better
acquainted with Lady Huntingdon's mode of pro-
cedure than any other, and readily offered to devote
herself to any active service, she should be desired
to occupy part of Lady Huntingdon's house in Spa-
Fields, and be in constant residence there, to carry
on all the needful correspondence, which was indeed
immense ; always advising with the trustees, and
rendering an account to them, when required, of her
procedure. To her, with Dr. Ford and Mr. Best,
therefore, it was agreed that the administration
should be intrusted.

Lady Ann now became the prominent person ;
and though all Lady Huntingdon's income died
with her, and Lady Ann possessed a mere pittance,
there appeared no lack of support to the cause. By
wise and prudent management, the places have not
only been supported, but many new chapels have
been raised, and a considerable number of ministers
in addition have been employed ; most of whom
have been sent out from the college at Cheshunt,
which is managed by trustees united with the con-
nexion of Lady Huntingdon. In every view, Lady
Ann was eminently qualified for her place, not only
by an intimate knowledge of the manner in which
her predecessor moved, but by a measure of ability,
hereditary in the family of Erskine, as well as a
devotedness of heart, that made it her pleasure to
imdergo any labour and difficulties for the sake of
the work in which she was engaged. Those who
were always consulted in emergencies, and knew
the complicated nature of the service, were witnesses
how greatly she strove to please all for their good to
edification. But none but herself knew the many
heart-aches, and the need of patience she had in

LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 271

dealing with such a number of persons as were
managers of places, or employed in itinerating, when,
as in a complicated machine, some wheel or tooth
being out of order, rendered the uniform motion
difficult to be preserved. To please every body
was hardly possible, in her situation : that some
might be dissatisfied, to whose wishes she could not
accord, and that others slighted her, who were
incompetent judges of her excellencies, is not to be
wondered at. That she was enabled to go on, with
almost perfect satisfaction to her colleagues, and
without the slio-htest breach between them for twelve
years ; all cordially concurrmg m one great object,
and pursuing it ardently, forms no mean proof
of a Christian spirit; as will be allowed by all
who are acquainted with the difficulties to be en-
countered.

During these twelve years, when her most active
life commenced, she was indefatigably employed in
the work of God. The marks in her Bible speak
the deep attention she paid to it. Her corre-
spondence was immense. Her room was hardly with-
out visitors from morning to night, giving account of
commissions fulfilled, or taking directions where to
go, and what to do. It has been often said to her,
by one of her active colleagues, that her departure
would leave a void, which there was scarcely a
prospect of again filling with like activity and
intelligence. They indeed hoped it would be very
distant ; but her great Master ordained otherwise.

Her conversation was always heavenly; and,
when speaking of God*s dealings with her own soul,
none could express a deeper and humbler sense of
her own unworthiness and nothingness. The senti-
ment she uttered the last evening of her life was,
that '^ the most holy are the most humble in their
own eyes." She improved every opportunity of
converse with her friends, especially the young, that

272 MEMOIRS OF

visited her. Indeed, her whole time aud thoughts
seemed to be engaged in endeavouring to fill up her
place, conscious of being highly honoured in the
service, and feeling it her delight as well as duty, to
discharge her trust, as she must answer to the great
Shepherd and Bishop of souls. She never set up
for a preacher ; she knew her place ; but many a
preacher will own how much his spirit hath been
quickened by her example and converse. She was
placed in a situation of some considerable authority;
but her directions were counsels, and her orders
entreaties. The work of Lady Huntingdon's Esta-
blishment was never better consolidated or more
apparently prosperous, than the day she left it; and
nothing will more powerfully speak for her than
such a testimony.

Lady Ann had, for some time before her death,
complaints which alarmed those who knew how
much they should feel her loss ; and though she
struggled with ill health, and hardly suffered it to
interrupt her labours, yet, it was evident that the
mortal tabernacle was failing. Her constant calls
to business precluded her from exercise; and the
stooping to write, and the sedentary life she led for
Vveeks together, only moving from her room to the
chapel, increased the dropsical tendency to which
she had been for some time liable. The natural con-
formation of a strait chest, rendered her respiration
often laborious, and on any quick motion asthma-
tical. Yet, her spirits so quickly rose, and her con-
versation became so enlivened, that apprehensions
went off; and seeing it so frequently the case, led
to hope that she might yet prolong her course.
Those around her had often seen her apparentl)'
worse, and more feeble, than on the days preceding
her dissolution.

The frame of her mind, indeed, seemed in prepa-
ration for an eternal world. Two or three mornings

LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 273

"before her departure, she came much refreshed from
her room, and said to a friend, *' The Lord hath
met me this morning with so much sweetness of
mind, that I seemed as if surrounded of God :"
she added, with fervour, '^ My Lord and my God !"
The day before her death, she took an airing in a
coach, and did not seem affected by it, but conversed
as usual. The evening of that day, she was visited
by a gentleman of her acquaintance, and spoke in her
usually spirited manner, as if nothing ailed her; and
her health being the subject, she said, '^ I have no
presentiment of death upon my mind ;" but she
added, ** Be that as it may, God is faithful; and
I feel unshaken confidence in him ;" with many
other expressions of the hope that maketh not
ashamed. About ten, she took her usual supper, an
^g^ ; and soon after retiring to bed, took a compos-
ing draught, (having had no good sleep for the two
preceding nights,) and prayed over it, that if the
Lord had more work for her to do, he would bless it
to the promoting a good night's sleep, and restoring
her strength. Speaking to her attendant, who slept
in the room with her, she said, *'* How happy am I
that my soul is not in hell, where I might have been I"
On her going out of the room. Lady Ann added, as
if under some doubt or difficulty, *' The Lord will
reveal himself to me to-morrow !" The person
asked if any outward matters made her uneasy?
She replied, " No ; in those respects I am perfectly
easy." These were the last words she was heard
to utter. She apparently fell asleep. About five
o'clock, the attendant heard her cough slightl}'^, and
supposed her to be again composed. At six she got
up ; and going to her bed-side, saw her mistress
reposed, her head on her hand, and thought her
asleep : on a nearer approach, it was the sleep of
death.

So finished the course of another faithful follower

N 5

274 MEMOIRS OF

of the Lamb, adding one more to the list of honour-
able and devout women whose memory is deserving
of being held in everlasting remembrance. She
lived to the age of sixty-five years ; more than forty
of which she had spent in the works of faith and
labours of love.

MRS. TALBOT. 275

MRS. TALBOT.

This excellent lady was married to the Rev. Wm.
Talbot, rector of St. Gileses, Reading, Berks ; a
truly evangelical and exemplary clergyman, whom
she survived eleven years. He was the immediate
predecessor of the celebrated Mr. Cadogan.

Mrs. Talbot was a pattern to women professing
godliness, and one that adorned the doctrine of God
her Saviour in all things. As a real helpmate to her
worthy husband, she assisted him in the useful, but
unfashionable employment of visiting the sick and
needy, and catechizing the children ; and, so far
from doing these kind offices with the least degree
of ostentation, humility shone forth in her whole
deportment. Ever encouraging her amiable partner
to take up his cross, and go forth without the camp,
she rejoiced to share with him in that reproach
which is the certain badge of the followers of the
Lamb.

The Rev. Mr. Talbot was, indeed, an extraordi-
nary man, both for piety and generosity. His
labours were extensively blessed : it is supposed
that, in the few years he preached at Reading, he
had not less than two hundred seals to his ministry.
But so mysterious are the ways of God, that in the
prime of life, and in the midst of usefulness, this
faithful and successful minister was suddenly re-
moved to glory. He had not long left home to go
to London on business, when tidings were brought
of his being ill of a putrid fever, which, it is sup-
posed, he had contracted before he left Reading, by
attendance on a person there, who lay ill of that
contagious disorder. The distress of mind which
Mrs. Talbot endured on receiving the intelligence.

276 MEMOIRS OF

was extreme; but, at length, a sweet calm suc-
ceeded : with inexpressible composure, she resigned
her husband into the Lord's hands, whether for life or
death ; and from that moment there was not a single
murmur. *' Thy will be done !" was the language
of her whole heart. It was judged most proper, by
the faculty and his friends, that she should not see
him, lest his mind should be too much agitated by
the interview. His illness was of short duration ;
and full of faith and hope, after a severe conflict
with death and the enemy of souls, he died at
the house of the late Mr. Wilberforce. Mrs.
Talbot received tlie tidings of his dissolution with
such a perfect serenity of mind, as astonished tlie
Earl of Dartmouth, their particular friend, who
kindly undertook to communicate the sad intelli-
gence to her. On his Lordship's leaving her, having,
at her own request, remained alone for some time,
she sent for the mistress of the house, and desired
her to sing a hymn, in which she joined ; when she
seemed more like an angel rejoicing to receive this
new inhabitant into heaven, than a destitute widow,
who had lost her beloved partner, and her all on
earth. On her return to Reading, after the funeral,
she was immediately attended by her Christian
friends, whom she called her children. But, though
they had met for the purpose of comforting her, they
were themselves so overwhelmed with grief, that
they could scarcely utter a word ; whilst she, on the
other hand, administered every consolation to them
on the happy translation of their spiritual father,
pastor, and friend. She ^vent the same day to the
church, to see where her beloved husband lay ; and
with all imaginable composure gave directions about
her own interment, whenever it should please God
to remove her. It deserves to be especially remarked,
that, prior to this period, Mrs. Talbot had been
much oppressed with doubts and fears, and often
went mourning without the sun ; but, thenceforward,

ilRS. TALBOT. 277

her faith was vigorous, her joy abundant, and her
spiritual experience rich and refreshing.

The Lord now appeared in a wonderful manner
for her, in a temporal way also, to the astonishment
of her friends. Hereby she was enabled to assist
the poor and needy, and send meat, from her own
table, almost daily to the sick : at the same time,
like a nursina' mother to her late husband's flock,
she was as constantly speaking of Christ, like Anna
of old, to all them that came to her. For she felt it
her duty not to remove from the spot where her
husband's labours had been so signally blessed ; but
to strengthen and comfort the numerous young
converts, who daily came to her for instruction.
Her house was open for religious exercises. Mr.
Romaine, Mr. Newton, and other ministers who
visited her, expounded to the people ; and prayer
was continually offered up under her roof, for the
conversion of the new vicar, the Hon. and Rev. Mr.
Cadogan, who, during some years, preached salva-
tion by the deeds of the law% and was a violent
enemy to evangelical sentiments and experimental
relis:ion. The old cono-reo'ation were soon dis-
persed, as sheep without a shepherd. Some, unwill-
ing to leave the church, attempted to convince him
of his errors; but their conversation and letters,
being sometimes too sharp, made his spirit more
acrimonious. Mrs. Talbot, however, incurred his
deepest resentment. Offended with her conduct,
he frequently remonstrated ; and various letters
passed between them. To all his bitter reproaches,
she returned answers full of wisdom and kindness ;
for slie was not only pious and prudent, but sensible,
polite, tender, and every way fitted to treat a person
in his circumstances. While Mrs. Talbot conversed
with Mr. Cadogan calmly on the nature of the
Gospel, he saw in her the power of it. While she
enlarged on the doctrine of the cross, he saw in her
its healing and comforting efficacy on the heart and

278 MEMOIRS OF

life. She spake much of the True Vine, while he
recognized the hving branch and its fruits ; and
beheld with irreistible conviction, in her character,
" the doctrine which is according to godliness."
Puzzled, therefore, as this honest inquirer had been
with the rough draught of Christianity, he was
charmed with the finished portrait. Her judicious
treatment, elegant manners, and bright example,
formed both a contrast and an antidote to the rude-
ness he had met with in others. And this should teach
us to set a due value upon every talent, natural or
acquired, which Divine grace employs ; though we
ourselves may happen not to possess it, and though
every talent, without that grace, must be employed
in vain. To the last moment of his life, he con-
fessed, to the praise of God, that Mrs. Talbot's
letters, spirit, and example, were the principal means
of leading him to the saving knowledge of Christ.

From the time of his conversion, Mr. Cadogan
became her friend, companion, minister, and one of
the almoners of her bounty ; for Mrs. Talbot's cha-
rities were large ; and, considering her circum-
stances, surprising. It ought not to escape remark,
that she was just as well as generous, — scrupulously
exact in her accounts and payments, — particularly
careful to owe no man any thing but love, and to
pay this debt as punctually as every other. She was
affectionately attentive to her neighbours of all
ranks. To her servants, she was a mother, as well
as a mistress ; but managed her kindnesses so as to
produce by them the most grateful subjection, not
indecent familiarity. To her relations she was
strongly attached ; she loved them with the love of
Christ, and mentioned them daily in her prayers.

Her house indeed seemed a Bethel. Such a hea-
venly calm sat on her countenance, so spiritual was
her conversation, so lowly in her own eyes, so dead
to the world, and so ripe for glory, that, as a noble
friend often expressed herself, she never saw Mrs.

MRS. TALBOT. 279

Talbot but she seemed quite ready for her heavenly
journey; with every thing packed up, and the car-
riage at the door, having nothing to do but to enter
it, and take her flight to glory. Thus daily waiting
for her summons, she was not surprised nor unready
when it came. She knew in whom she believed :
Christ was her life ; and, through his blood and
righteousness, the sting of death was taken out, and
she happily obtained victory over the grave.

On the day she was seized with her last illness,
being exhorted to look to Jesus, she said : " This
Jesus is all in all." Her daily testimony, from this
time to her death, was, that she had no other refuge,
nor desired any other, but Christ, whom she found
an all-sufficient Saviour for such a sinner as she
knew herself to be. A very familiar and striking
expression, her minister observed, she often made
use of — *' That she felt as though all behind her
head were darkness and sorrow ; and all before her
face, light and gladness." On the Saturday night
before her death, she said : *' No more Sabbaths to
be enjoyed by me on earth ; but, oh that blessed
Sabbath of rest above !" She attempted to sing ;

" Other refuge have I none,
Hangs ray helpless soul on thee !"

and went on till her strength was exhausted. The
next morning, she began speaking of the precious
views she had, the preceding night, of the New
Jerusalem ; and added with a sweet smile, " Shall
those gates of pearl be opened to unworthy me?
And shall I obtain that crown of righteousness,
laid up for all those that love the appearing of my
dear Lord !" Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, she
usually expressed by name, when she ascribed to
Jehovah, her Covenant-God, the whole glory of her
salvation.

Not long before her death, she was asked by her
minister, the Rev. Mr. Cadogan, in the apostle's

280 MEMOIRS OF

words, " Who shall separate us from the love of
Christ?" She answered, with uncommon rapture,
*' Nothing, nothing, notliing! — Jesus/' she added,
'* is my all." " Oh sweet death ! " was her constant
expression. In her parting blessing to two or three
select friends, she said, '* God bless you all !" and
to her faithful servants, whom she loved as a mother,
she added, *' God bless you, my dear children!"
And then, the last words she was heard to utter dis-
tinctly, were. Fray, pray, pray ! Her lips were still
perceived to move, as though in prayer, and faintly
uttering the words " Shepherd, and Guide ! " Death
was now upon her countenance, and in its loveliest
form. It was imnossible to refrain from looking; at
her : it was a sight calculated to confirm the hope
of every Christian. All who were present kneeled
round her bed, while, in broken accents, Mr. Cadogan
committed her spirit into the hands of the Lord God
of truth. Surrounded by her weeping friends and
servants, she fell asleep without a groan, November
1785, about the sixtieth year of her age.

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 281

MRS. GRACE BENNET.

This lady was the daughter of Robert and Grace
Norman, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne : she was born
there on the 23d day of January, 1715.

From the brief narrative which she left behind her,
it appears, that religious impressions were made
upon her mind in very early life, and that she had
experienced convictions of sin even from four years
of age; particularly one that never left her, till it
pleased God to take away the sense of guilt from
her conscience, which was not for many years after.
These had a powerful influence on her conduct, in
leading her to read the word of God wdth great dili-
gence, though she did not properly understand it,
and to feel a pleasure in attending on public worship
both parts of the Lord's-day. Nor was she, even
then, a stranger to some sense of Divine love,
which at times so filled her heart with unspeakable
pleasure in the house of God, that she said within
herself, "Oh that I might live here for ever!"
One instance of this in particular occurred when she
was about seven years old, of which she frequently
made mention in advanced life, as an early token of
that special grace by which she was afterwards
called into the fellowship of Christ.

These pleasing impressions continued till she was
sent to a dancing-school, which proved a great
snare to her, and in a considerable measure de-
stroyed her taste for religion. Having a fine flow
of spirits, and being esteemed a good dancer, she
became an object of admiration, and her company
was much solicited in circles of gayety and amuse-
ment. " Dancing," she observes, '* was my darling
sin, and I had thereby nearly lost my life ; but
God was merciful; and spared the sinner." Her

282 MEMOIRS OF

sense of the danger and evil of this practice wasr
such, that she could never once be prevailed on,
after she became truly religious, to join even in the
most private circle of such amusement ; nor did she
approve of Christian parents sending their children
to dancing-schools, though no one had a higher
sense of the propriety of instructing them in all the
rules of good behaviour.

About the age of twenty-one, she changed her
name to that of Grace Murray, by vi^hich she vi^as
afterw^ards so v^^ell known among the people called
Methodists, being married to Mr. Alexander Murray,
nearly related to a considerable family of that name
in Scotland ; whose father, being concerned in the
rebellion of 1715, forfeited his estate, and with
several brothers was banished the kingdom. Mr.
M. being thus disinherited, and not having been
brought up to any secular business, turned his
attention to a seafaring life, in which he continued
to the time of his death.

For some time after her marriage with Mr. M.,
she continued in all the vanities of the world;
tenderly beloved by her husband, and distinguished
in circles of mirth by the sprightliness of her air, and
the enchanting modulations of her voice, which was
peculiarly sweet, and of great compass.

The providence of God, however, in a peculiar
manner interposed, to abate her love of worldly
pleasures, and to awaken her to the pursuit of more
noble and satisfying delights ; of which she gives
the following account: — " Mr. M. being taken ill
at Portsmouth, sent for me. I went, and took my
child with me, which was about fourteen months
old, and staid there about six weeks. We boarded
at the house of a widow lady, who had two daugh-
ters. Twice every day she passed by my room,
with her book under her arm, and her daughters
with her, to retire into her chamber to prayers.
This struck me in such a manner, that I wished to

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 283

do as she did. Oh the goodness of God ! It as-
tonishes me even now to think of it, how I must be
brought hither to be taught to pray ! Yes, I believe
I began to pray in the Spirit in that house. The
Lord had fastened something on my mind there,
which I could never shake off."

Under this impression, she returned with Mr.
Murray to London ; and thus was her mind gradu-
ally disposed to be favourably wrought upon by
succeeding events, which, through the influence of
the Divine Spirit, issued in her effectual conversion.
These things, with many other circumstances of her
first religious connexions, we shall relate in her own
words, which contain a brief sketch of the rise and
early progress of the Methodist societies in various
parts of the kingdom,

" When we returned to London, all places rang
with the fame of Mr. Whitfield, who had introduced
the practice of field-preaching. I said, * Poor
gentleman ! he is out of his mind ! ' So foolish was
I, and ignorant. But he continued to blow the
Gospel trumpet all round London, &c. I found
a strong desire to hear him ; but my husband
would not give his consent. It was not long, how-
ever, before Mr. M. was called away to his occupa-
tion ; and just after his departure, my child sickened,
and God was pleased to take her unto himself.
When the child was dying, I was constrained to
kneel down ; and having a book with a prayer in it
for a departing soul, I read this, and gave up my
child into the hands of God. This amazed my
sister, who had never seen it thus with me before.
After the child was interred, I was brought into
such lowness of spirits that I could rest in no place.
I lost my relish for all worldly pleasures ; and,
though I was taken from place to place to divert
me, it was to no purpose. I wanted — but I knew
not what. Once, at my sister's, looking upward,
I thought the firmament was all in a smoke ; upon
which, I went in greatly terrified, and said to my

284 MEMOIRS OF

sister, ' I do not know what is the matter with me,
but I think it is my soul.' She rephed, * Your soul,
child ; you are good enough for yourself and me
too/ Poor creature, she was as ignorant as myself!
But I could rest in no place : the Lord had made
the wound, and no earthly balm could cure it. O
that I could sufficiently praise him for his great
mercy to me a poor sinner !"

*' Mr. Whitfield was gone down the river Thames
for Georgia ; but an embargo was laid on all ships
outward-bound, for some time, we being then at war
with Spain ; therefore he returned from Gravesend
to London. A young person in our neighbourhood
having heard of my distress, sent me word she was
going to Blackheath to hear Mr. Whitfield, and
would be glad of my company. Accordingly 1
went with her, and before we reached the place, we
heard the people singing hymns. The very sound
set all my passions alioat, though I did not know
one word they uttered ; which plainly shews how
the affections may be greatly moved, while the un-
derstanding is quite dark. At the time appointed,
Mr. Whitfield came, and young Mr. Delamotte in
a chaise with him.. When he stood up, I was struck
with his appearance ; I thought there was something
in his face I never saw in any human face before.
His tex^ was, our Lord's address to Nicodemus in
John iii. 3. ' Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except
a man be born a^ain. he cannot see the kino'dom of
God.' He enlarged on the new birth ; but I under-
stood him not, and wondered what it was to be born
again. So long as the embargo continued, I went
to hear him ; and when he was gone, I was worse
than ever, though I do not think my understanding
was at all enlightened. My distress grew very
heavy, nor had I one that I could open my mind
unto : I was bound in misery and iron."

'* One day, however, as I was reading in the fifth
chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, I was filled

MRS. GRACE BEN NET. 285

with light and love. I saw my lost estate in Adam,
and my recovery by Christ Jesus. My soul was
overpowered, and I cried out to those that were
with me, * If all the devils in hell were dancing
round me, I fear them not.' I was as sensible,
when the guilt of sin was removed from my con-
science, as a man pressed under a load is sensible
when it is taken off his slioulders. Now, therefore,
God having set my soul at liberty, he opened my
lips to praise him ; and all that flow of spirits
which 1 had felt in the vanities of the world, was
directed towards God. I began to reprove sin in
all around me ; nor durst I suffer it upon my brother
in anywise.

" About four months aftet this, as I was walking
in my own room, one morning, in the same place
where God was pleased to remove the burden of
my guilt, I felt as if some powerful hand had pulled
me down upon my knees to prayer; and whether I
was in the body, or out of the body, 1 know not, but
I saw what no human tongue can express, neither
durst I utter, concerning the glory of the Divine
Persons in the Godhead. I was also made sensible,
that God the Father accepted me in his Son, as if I
had not committed one sin, and that the righteous-
ness of the Lord Jesus Christ was imputed to me for
my justification, with all that he had purchased by
his life and death ; and at the same time, those
words were applied to my soul with the greatest
power, ' Peace I leave with thee ; my peace 1 give
unto thee ; not as the world giveth, give I unto
thee.' John, xiv. 27. Now, also, the Lord sent the
Spirit of adoption into my heart, crying, Abba,
Father ; the Spirit himself bore witness with my
spirit, that I was a child of God. I rejoiced with
joy unspeakable and full of glory. — The sense of
this Divine manifestation, the enemy could never
tear away from me, in all my violent temptations
afterwards : even when I was almost driven to

286 MEMOIRS OF

despair, this would come and come again to my
mind, God cannot change.

'* Now all my former companions forsook me, and
said they could not bear my melancholy conversation,
as they called it ; yea, my own sister told me, * Once
she delighted to see me in company, but now she
hated to see me there, I looked so much like a fool.'
Blessed h& my God, this was my glory, to be counted
a fool for my dear Lord's sake ! The world, indeed,
seemed under my feet, and my conversation was
truly in heaven.

*' About this time, Mr. Murray returned from his
voyage. My sister told him I was gone melancholy
through hearing the Methodists, at which he smiled ;
but when he found that I would not be a party in
such pleasures as I used to delight in, he said I was
gone mad, and swore that the Methodists had
destroyed all his happiness in this world. He would
not let me go to any preaching, nor suffer any
Methodists to come near me. This was my cross
indeed ! At length, finding that he could by no
means prevail with me to accompany him to scenes of
pleasure and vain delight, he said with a deep sigh,
* I see no way to recover you, but putting you into
a madhouse ;' which my sister encouraged him to
do. I answered him, ' I am in my perfect senses,
but you may do with my body as God pleaseth to
suffer you ; I will however serve the Lord in his
own way.' He said, * You may go to church, and
serve God as much as you please.' To this I said
but little, thinking it then most prudent. He said
again, * You shall forsake these Methodists, or I
will put you into a madhouse.' I answered, * I
believe them to be the people of God ; therefore, if
I deny them, I should deny the Lord who bought
me with his blood ; than which I w^ould rather die ;
and put me into whatever place you please, the
Lord will go with me.' On this he rose up, and
said, * I will go to Mrs. , and bespeak a

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 287

place for you/ — I had now no other resource, but
to pour out my sorrows before God, and to entreat
him, that he would either prevent this, or overrule
it for his glory. Mr. M. had not been gone long,
(for I was yet wrestling with God,) before he came
upstairs and said, ' I cannot do it.' In a little time
after this, I was taken dangerously ill, which greatly
distressed him ; and when he thought I should die,
he said, * My dear, will you have any body sent for?
you shall have whom you please.' But when any of
the Methodists came, he went out. It pleased God,
however, to restore me in a little time, and my
husband gave me leave to go to the preachings ;
which was health to my bones. Soon afterwards he
went another voyage ; and, in the course of fourteen
months, died at sea."

It is not uncommon for those who at one time
have been highly indulged with sensible comforts,
at other seasons to pass through peculiar scenes of
temptation and spiritual exercise ; especially if
designed for distinguished usefulness in the church.
This was the case with the subject of these memoirs.
Her conflicts with Satan, and the distress of soul
she sometimes suffered, through the pressure of
temptations peculiarly discouraging, considerably
surpassed what many eminent Christians are ac-
quainted with. The grand adversary of souls sifted
her by every stratagem, and sometimes, with all the
fury of a roaring lion, threatened to devour her.
What she alludes to in the preceding account, as
her great trial, was a scene of deep spiritual conflict,
almost bordering on despair ; into which she was
brought by indulging high-wrought speculative
inquiries, and following a train of sceptical sug-
gestions, till her mind was enveloped in darkness,
and deprived of all sensible comfort. This she
considered, in more advanced life, as having been
permitted of God, to correct the bad effect of those

288 MEMOIRS OF

undue caresses she met with amongst her religioui?
friends ; to humble her, and to make her know what
was in her heart ; as well as to teach her how to
sympathize with, and comfort the souls of the dis-
tressed, for which, by painful experience, she was
eminently qualified. " I was got," she says, " to
such a pass, that no preaching did me any good ; so
wise, that I thought I knew ail before the preacher
spoke. Oh, this was a dreadful state ! I tremble to
think of it, even at this distance of forty years ! I
began to reason about many things, till 1 lost my
sensible comfort, and was soon assaulted by tempta-
tions of various kinds. The Holy Spirit was grieved,
and I walked under great heaviness. My state of
mind daily grew worse and worse, that I was even
filled with horrible thoughts, and ready to disbelieve
every thing in the Scriptures ; yea, had not the Lord
secretly upheld me, I had been swallowed up even
of atheism itself: for, as I was one day walking in a
field behind the town-walls, it came to me like
lightning, * There is no God.' I was as if thunder-
struck ; when, lifting up my eyes to heaven, I cried
out, ' Satan, thou art a liar ! I know there is a God !
I have felt his power, I have tasted of his love T
And again I said, ' Who made these heavens, and
stretched them out like a curtain ? or who laid the
foundations of the earth?' Immediately it came to
me, * All by nature.' I went into one of the towers
in the town-wall to have prayed, but the heavens
seemed as brass. I came out, and having to pass
over a high stone stile with a flight of steps, was
tempted to throw myself down from the top. How
I oot off, I hardly know^ ; but, in a moment, I was
as if covered w ith a black veil ; on which I cried
out, * If there be a God, save me!' Then the Lord
appeared for my deliverance, and Satan fled. By
detrrees, I was reduced almost to a skeleton, through
the weight of grief that oppressed my soul ; yet,

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 289

blessed be God, he did not leave me utterly to
despair, but something of a secret hope bore me up,
that in due time he would deliver."

Mrs. Murray, having been several years a widow,
was again married, October 3, 1749, to Mr. John
Bennet, of Chinley, near Chapel-en-le-frith, Derby-
shire. At that time, Mr. Bennet was a preacher
in Mr. Wesley's connexion, and superintended a
very extensive circuit, through part of Yorkshire,
Lancashire, Ciieshire, and Derbyshire ; in which,
(as appears from a letter of his to Mr. Wesley,
dated March 6, 1750,) he rode nearly 200 miles
every fortnight. In this circuit he continued to
labour with unwearied dilig:ence for some years
afterwards, his wife (now Mrs. Grace Bennet) gene-
rally accompanying him, so long as domestic con-
venience would admit ; whose prayers and counsels,
among the women of the several societies, were
eminently useful. Some diversities of religious
opinion, however, springing up between him and
Mr. Wesley, particularly respecting the righteous-
ness of Christ being imputed to believers, as the only
ground of their justification before God, which Mr.
Bennet openly avowed, they publicly separated, at
Bolton, in Lancashire, April 3, 1752.

This was a heavy affliction to Mrs. Bennet, who
esteemed Mr. Wesley ; though she thought his
conduct, on that occasion, highly reprehensible.
She was then also a warm stickler for the doctrines
of Universal Redemption, Free-Will, &c. which were
topics of sharp controversy, at that time, between
Mr. Wesley and Mr. Whitfield. But, in a little
while, she saw reason to embrace what is commonly
called the Calvinistic view of Gospel doctrines, in
which she acquired a very clear and distinguishing
judgement, and was more and more established to
the last ; though she never afterwards was fonitl of
religious controversy, and advised all her Christian
friends against it.

VOL. II. O

"'*"**^****:.".' V '^'' ^-M^ -■ -:'^-^^'- iL-^.i^';iiK

290 MEMOIRS OF

The cares of a growing family now so occupied
her time and attention, that she could but seldom
accompany her husband in his circuit round the
societies. This therefore, among other considera-
tions, induced him to think of connecting himself
more closely with a particular congregation, as their
stated minister; that he might more comfortably
attend to his family as well as his flock. Accord-
ingly, in 1754, a meeting-house being erected for
him at Warburton in Cheshire, the society assem-
bling there was regularly organized, on the plan of
an independent church ; and he, by prayer and
fasting, was solemnly set apart to the pastoral office
among them. Here he continued his ministerial
labours on the Lord's-day, (generally preaching four
or five times a week besides, in places at some
distance,) till the year 1759 ; when he was seized
with the jaundice, occasioned through his over
exertions, and a great loss of blood from a wound
that he accidentally received in his leg. Of this he
died, on Thursday the 24th day of May, after lying
ill thirty-six weeks. The following is Mrs. Bennet's
account of this interesting scene :

" I have seen many saints take their leave of this
world, but none like J. B. May my last end be like
his ! As I was sitting on his bedside, he said, ' My
dear, I am dying.' This was about eleven o'clock,
and he conversed with me till two. I said, ' Thou
art not afraid of dying V He answered cheerfully,
' No, my dear ; for 1 am assured, past a doubt, or
even a scruple, that I shall be with the Lord, to
behold his glory ; the blood of Jesus Christ hath
cleansed me from all sin. I long to be dissolved.
Come, Lord Jesus, loose me from the prison of this
clay ! Oh sweet, sweet dying ! I could die ten
thousand times ! Too sweet, my dear, too sweet !'
I said, ' Canst thou now stake thy soul on the
doctrine thou hast preached V He answered, * Yes,
ten thousand souls ! It is the everlasting truth ;

^J

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 291

stick by it.' Then he prayed for his wife and
children, for his father, sister, and her children, and
for the Church of Christ; after which he said: * I
long to be gone. I am full : my cup runneth over.
Sing, sing, yea, shout for joy!' We then kissed
each other, and he fell asleep in the arms of Jesus,
with the words, ' Sing, sing !' — He was lamented
both by rich and poor. He was an upright man,
and without guile ; a lover of all good men. He
feared no man, neither would he suffer sin upon his
brother. We have sung the praises of God together
in our journey below, and we shall sing them
together to all eternity."

From this period, Mrs. Bennet sustained the cha-
racter of a " widow indeed." Left with five sons,
the oldest not eight years of age, far removed from all
her own relations, and exercised with many trials,
the circumstances of which were too much inter-
woven with family connexions and affairs, to be
publicly enumerated ; she not only cheerfully encoun-
tered many temporal difficulties in the education of
her children ; but also, by her example, her counsels,
her prayers, her pleasing converse, and her prudent
care, trained them up in the nurture and admonition
of the Lord. Reading the word of God, singing his
praises, and calling on his name with her family,
morning and evening, were daily practised in her
house ; and these things were always done with
such reverence, spirituality, and fervour, as could not
help convincing every one that witnessed them, how
deeply her heart was engaged in them. She was never
tedious in the length of religious services, to render
them a burden ; and through all she introduced that
agreeable variety, which made them entertaining,
as well as impressive. Few Christians possessed
so eminently the spirit and gift of prayer. In her
chamber she daily spent a considerable time in secret
converse with God : the throne of grace was truly
her asylum, whither she fled in all circumstances of

o 2

292 MEMOIRS OF

trouble and perplexity. The cares of such a family,
which she attended with most watchful solicitude,
doing almost every thing for them with her own
hands, would, with some, have engrossed every inch
of time, and afforded no leisure for mental improve-
ment ; but, by her habit of early rising, and observ-
ing the strictest order in the arrangement of domestic
concerns, she was enabled to cultivate her taste for
reading to a very considerable extent ; and this, not
only among strictly devotional writings, but in
general history, and the works of our best English
poets. Such employment was to her a pleasing
substitute for the chit-chat of visiting, which often
murders time, and leaves the mind empty and
dissipated.

The Rev. Mr. Bennet having been accustomed
frequently to preach in his own house to such of
the neighbours as attended, his widow endeavoured
to provide for the continuance of their instruction,
by inviting Gospel ministers at a distance, to come
and preach in rotation at her house, where they
always received a kind and respectful entertainment.
She had also weekly meetings for prayer and reli-
gious conversation, both of a general and a more
select nature, which proved a great blessing to the
souls of many.

In visiting the sick throughout her neighbourhood,
her aptness and usefulness were eminently disco-
vered. The inhabitants in general looked up to her,
on such occasions, with peculiar veneration and
confidence, as a mother in Israel, who knew how to
speak a word in season ; and even such as in health
were carnal and profane, would hearken to her
advice, and request her prayers, in their time of
illness, with great humility and earnestness. She
was always ready to fall in with such calls of
Providence ; and there were several instances of
persons, who, by her instrumentality, were truly
awakened, and brought to the knowledge of the

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 293

truth, and died full of peace and good hope
towards God.

Having had the satisfaction to see those of her
children who were spared, introduced into life, and
now becoming, through advance of years, less
capable of attending religious means at any distance,
she was prevailed upon, by great importunity, to
quit her sequestered vale, and settle in the town of
Chapel-en-le- frith.

In the year I 792 begins her Diary, or daily memo-
randum of what passed in her own mind, which she
continued till the year 1800 ; when her eye-sight so
failed, that she was utterly incapable of directing
her pen. We shall select some passages, which may
be of general utility, and endeavour to present them
an such orderly succession, as may convey some
•correct idea of what was her habitual exercise and
frame of mind unto the last,

" January 1, 1792. Miss came to spend

the last day of the old year with me. Oh, what
waste of time is chit-chat ! I was condemned in.
myself, that we parted without prayer. All visits to
me are empty and dry, if the precious name of Jesus
is not the topic of our conversation.

^' That is the name that charms ray fears,
And bids my sorrows cease."

** When I see my interest clear in the covenant
of his blood, (as, I bless God, I do many times,) I
fear neither death nor hell, nor all the powers
thereof; yet, at times, I find such a depth of un-
belief in me, that sinks me low as the grave. But
I have no way, at such seasons, but to lay my
soul at the feet of Jesus, and wait for his return.
The ship cannot sink ; for, though the Master
seem to be asleep, he will awake and rebuke the
storm.

294 MEMOIRS OF

'' The last night was a night of darkness, but joy
returned in the morning. The portion of Scripture
for our morning service, was so suited to my state
in the night, that the word was as marrow and
fatness to my soul. These words were applied to
my mind, * I have loved thee with an everlasting
love, therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn
thee.' Oh, how do I grieve for some that seemed
to bid fair for heaven ! What has bewitched them ?

0 delusive world, thou real cheat ! what canst thou
give but hell and destruction ! Help me, Lord, to
begin this new year with thee ! O my God, fulfil all
thy pleasure in and by me, the most unworthy of all
thy servants ! Yet I would love thee, thou knowest :

1 can appeal unto thee, I would rather die, than sin
against thee.

" Feb. 1. Oh for more of that wisdom which
cometh from above, that I may be directed in the
right way ! for 1 am very ignorant. This day, I
was desired to pray with some persons that came
to visit me ; but I neither found life nor liberty.
Words are not prayer. O thou blessed Son of God,
make me free, and I shall be free indeed ! What a
pity it is, that when we meet together, we can talk
of any thing but the one thing needful ! Oh for
more zeal according to knowledge ! O my dull
heart, why art thou so backward ? I have seen the
day when I would have reproved sin in his Majesty,
without being afraid ; and why not now?

" March 4. This morning has been a good one ;
the Lord has been with us in family worship, and
comforted my soul greatly. O Lord, quicken me to
run the way of thy commandments ! How doth my
soul mourn for some that did begin well, but now
seem to be swallowed up of the world ! I hope I
have delivered my own soul, yet, I will weep for them
in secret places. I pray God embitter every sinful
sweet, and hedge up their way with thorns, rather
than they should run into destruction ! It is not

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 295

beginning well, but finishing ! * Be thou faithful
unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life/
saith Christ ; ' but, if any man draw back, my soul
shall have no pleasure in him.*

** April 14. I mourn — but, blessed be God, it is
not for the world ; I have all that it can give me.
I want to be more closely united to my dearest
Lord j I want my whole heart devoted to him. —

" What hast thou done my heart to gain ?
Languish'd, and groan'd, and died."

" I would love much, having had much forgiven.
O my God, I would weep in tears of blood, if it
would avail for my unfaithfulness. But my tears
themselves want washing ; how then can they avail ?
In this view I detest them. The blood of Jesus alone
can cleanse my sin ; in that is all my hope.

** I know no sacrifice beside ;
Lord, I'm condemn'd, but thou hast died.'*

*' Oh the depth of unbelief ! What a wicked deceit-
ful heart is mine ! How long shall I dispute and
reason with Satan against my own peace ? I have the
veracity of Jehovah to rest upon for my salvation ;
yea, he hath spoken to my soul, as with an audible
voice, ' I am thy salvation.' Oh the loving-kind-
ness and patience of our God ! to bear with me,
such a sinner ! But my Advocate pleads my cause
above ; for me he intercedes. Then, my soul,
arise and tread the tempter down. May I never
doubt more, but believe, and rejoice in hope of his
salvation !

" May 14. This morning the Lord hath taken to
himself my dear friend C. O., who departed rejoicing
in Christ Jesus. She was a mother in Israel, a lover
of God and his people : she died beloved of all that
knew her, and she was worthy. 1 took my leave of
her the night before she died, believing we should

296 MEMOIRS OF

meet again at the right hand of God : how soon,
God knovveth. O Lord, make me ready ! Then, no
matter how soon. May I live every day as my last !
I would have death in view every moment, that,
when the king of terrors approacheth, he may not
be formidable. What is death, but the door into
eternity? My dear Saviour has entered, and taken
possession for me, and has told me, that where
he is, there I shall be also, to behold his glory.
Hallelujah!

'' August 26. What is man in his fallen state, but
half brute, half devil ? The unregenerate heart is a
cage of unclean birds ; all manner of abominations
dwell there. It is one thing, however, to say thus,
and another to feel it so. It is one thing to say, I
am a sinner, and another to feel myself under the
wrath and curse of God for my sins. Many will
complain of themselves, and say, ' O I am very
sinful, my heart is wicked,' 8cc. but still they go on
in sin, and rest content. I am persuaded, if they
felt what they say, they could not stop there, till
God avenged them of their enemies. And who are
these? Principally, the sin of unbelief; whence
spring pride, and selfishness, and anger, &c. These
my soul has groaned under ; yet, I bless God, they
do not lead me captive : no, I hate them with a
perfect hatred. If these reign, we can have no peace
with God ; * for his servants we are to whom we
obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience
unto righteousness.' God is of purer eyes, than to
look upon sin with the least allowance or approba-
tion ; and, ' without holiness no man shall see the
Lord.' Then how, my soul, wilt thou stand before
him ? Not in any holiness which is wrought in thee,
even by the influences of the Divine Spirit, but in
that perfect righteousness which the Son of God;
wrought out by his life and death; this alone can
give thee a title to eternal life. Nevertheless, what
God is pleased to work in me by his blessed Spirit,

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 297

(and I pray God fill my whole soul more and more
with himself,) is to qualify me for heaven ; else I
could not associate and converse with the glorious
hosts above ; for no unclean thing shall enter the
New Jerusalem.

" November 30. It is good to wait upon God.
The face of Moses shone, when he came down from
the mount, after he had been conversing with the
Lord of hosts. And is it not true of every Christian,
when he has been conversing with God in meditation
and prayer, (if the intercourse has been open between
God and his soul,) that he afterwards shines in
humility, meekness, love, and spiritual-mindedness !
This moment I feel a little what this means. 1 am
astonished to think that the Almighty should stoop
to hear such a sinner as me ! Oh, that I could
extol him ! Lord, increase my capacity of loving
and serving thee !

*' December 25. Having caught cold, and not re-
garding it, I was seized with a dangerous disorder,
which brought me almost to the grave ; but, for
some reason, (unknown to myself, yet well under-
stood by Him that w^orketh all things after the
counsel of his own will,) I was countermanded when
I thought myself in sight of my port, with my sails
spread, and filled with the gales of the Divine Spirit.
How have I seen, when 1 have been upon the ocean,
a ship with all her sails unfurled, and right before
the wind, the mariners rejoicing, and myself with
them, thinking we were so near our desired haven ;
when suddenly a cross wind has sprung up, and
blown us quite away to another port, and that for
several days ! So am L Lord help me to improve
the time, because the days are evil! The Lord's
hand is stretched out, as if he was shaking all nations.
Indeed, to me it seems plain, that he is hastening
his coming. The signs appear. O Lord, help me
to watch, that I may have my loins girt, my lamp

o 5

298 MEMOIRS OF

trimmed, and my light shining ; that I may meet
my Lord with joy ! Amen.

" June 24, 1793. I came to live at . O

Lord, dwell thou with me, and make my house a
house of prayer ! Thou knowest my mind has been
all hurry for some time : yet, blessed be thy name,
thou hast been with me. Surely thou art good to
Israel. The Lord has given me a daughter-in-law,
one of a thousand. O Lord, be thou unto her as
the dew unto Israel. Give unto her, and my dear
child, the friend of her bosom, much grace, and
more grace ; that they may be wholly devoted to
God, with all they have and are. I hope this is
their desire : I have cause to believe it. Oh, may
I yet see the fruits of grace abound in them ! They
are good and kind to me : how shall I praise my
God, who is the moving cause of all ! — This world
is full of noise and calamity, occasioned by sin.
Save, Lord, or I perish ! I have need of power to
watch and pray, for I find enemies without and
within, and my own heart the worst of all ; but
God is greater than my heart, and on him I rely.
But oh ! this unbelief, that damning sin ! I feel it
deeply rooted in my nature, ^ut Jesus says, ' I
have prayed for thee, that thoc. fail not.'—- 1 cannot
say, that I find those transports of joy, which I
have experienced in times past ; but, I bless God,
I find a solid hope, that enables me to rest my all
upon the atonement made by the Lamb : there will
I trust my soul ; yea, ten thousand souls if I had
them. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who hath made me sensible, that neither
I, nor any one else, can call Jesus Lord, but by the
Holy Ghost.

" I rest upon thy word ;
The promise is for me :
My succour and salvation, Lord,
Shall surely com© from thee."

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 299

" Sept. 1. Backbiters and tale-bearers are Satan's
agents ; they would set a whole country by the ears ;
such I would not have enter my house. When I
say, ' I would not hear them/ the answer is, ' We
cannot stop our ears.' Well, but I would stop their
mouths, by saying, I will hear no evil-speaking.
Indeed, this is a sin we should flee from, as from the
face of a serpent. I can truly say, I have been pained
to my heart, by hearing evil-speaking. I have con-
demned myself as a sinner, for not reproving it. We
have rules laid down in Scripture for the whole
deportment of our lives ; and by these we ought to
walk. * Be swift to hear, and slow to speak,' is a
good watch-word in all companies. I have been
blamed for speaking too little in company ; but I
would rather err on that hand, than by speaking too
much ; speaking to profit is all. If we had a sense
of the Divine presence, we should be more cautious
both of what we speak and do. The glory of God
should be uppermost in all. But do we not too
often speak to please ourselves ? Ah, pride and self
are deeply rooted in me ; I feel them moving in
every point. O wretched creature, what am I sunk
into by the fall ! Into the nature both of beast and
devil. It is a blessing to know this ; but a greater
blessing to know that I am redeemed out of that
horrible state, by the dear Son of God becoming
surety for me. He took upon him human nature, to
die the death for me ! Here I am lost.

** Oct. 8. This was a heavy day to me. 1 dare
not connive at sin, for it will find us out, be it ever
so secret. Indeed, I own before God my weakness,
that I am of a sharp spirit, and my manner of reproof
may seem to some persons to be wrong ; but I can
appeal to God, my aim is his glory, and their good
to whom I speak. I dare not but do it in anywise.
I leave the event to God, to whom I must give an
account. His word says ' Thou shalt not suffer sin
upon thy brother, but shalt reprove him in anywise :'

300 MEMOIRS OF

this is my warrant. Some, I fear, are content to
get so much religion as will save them from the fear
of hell; but in this, they are wofully deceiving
themselves ; for true religion not only saves from
the fear of hell, but it makes truly happy, and
works a crucifixion in us to this vain world, with all
its delusive joys. Where God has taken possession
of the heart, he takes away the love of all those
things that once led us captive, and gives us power
to lead them captive. All the love that such per-
sons regarded other things with before, is turned to
the love of God; and it is their grief, that they
cannot love him more and serve him better : I am
sure it is mine ; and I believe true grace has the
same effect in all. Oh, it is a sad and bitter thing,
to lose the power of grace in the heart ; it is not so
easy to recover it ; it costs many a deep groan and
piercing sigh, if ever we come to enjoy that happiness
we had in our first love. I am speaking from dear-
bought experience. Therefore, we ought to shun
the very appearance of evil. Many things may
appear to us innocent, and in themselves may be so,
but the manner of using them is all. We do not
consider what the end will be, till we find the bite
of the serpent.

" January 22. Last night my little company met.
My heart was enlarged as I endeavoured to shew
them in what manner I believed Christ to be the
sinner's hope for salvation, and how we are accepted
in him ; that it is not for any thing wrought in us
by the Divine Spirit, nor for all the works we have
done or can do, but for the righteousness of Christ
alone imputed to us, without any thing in or of
ourselves. Doubtless, what the blessed Spirit
worketh in us, is a qualification or meetness of
heaven, but it is not this which gives us our title to
it. God looks upon the believer in Jesus as if he
had not committed sin ; but, out of Christ, if a soul
were enriched with all grace, God would be to that

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 301

soul a consuming fire. Our completeness is in Christ
Jesus alone. I fear some build upon their comforts,
instead of Christ, for their salvation. Do not, how-
ever, mistake me, and think I am speaking against
comforts : far from it. I delight to feel the comforts
of the Holy Ghost; yea, there is no true rehgiou
without them, less or more ; and perhaps I, the
least of all the family of heaven, not worthy to be
called a child of God, have tasted, and could say,
as much as most of these sweets of Paradise. But
I forbear : Christ is All and in All to me.

" Feb. 19. They say the French are for invading
us. Whither shall we flee ? There is only one place
of safety : the name of our God is a strong tower,
into which the righteous run, and are safe.

" There would I fly with eager haste,
Aud kiss the cross, and hold it fast."

Let us not distress ourselves before the time. Re-
member the prophet's servant. His master prayed,
and God opened his eyes, and then he beheld the
mountain full of horses and chariots round about.
is not Elisha's God the same to-day? Yes, and will
be for ever, when heaven and earth are fled away.
O Lord, give me that victorious faith that removes
every mountain and obstacle in my way to Sion !
It is not in the power of men to do what they
would ; then I desire to stand still and see thy
salvation.

" September 26. It is easy to talk of death at a
distance; but it is awful to look him in the face^
without an advocate. O dreadful ! But, to believe
and know that Jesus lives for me, to plead my cause
before his Father's throne, disarms him of all his
terrors. In my late illness, the Lord kept the enemy
at a distance, that I felt no fear of death : I neither
desired life nor death, but that the will of God should
be done in me. I had my answer, as in times past,
that I should not die now. What I am spared for.

302 MEMOIRS OF

is best known to Him who 'can divide the seas,
and make the mountains fall.'

" This awful God is mine,
My Father and my love ;
He will send down his heavenly powers
To carry me above/'

" November 12. 1 fear, great troubles are hasten-
ing : I almost see them at the door. When I
consider what God has done for this nation in times
past, and what returns we have made him, my mouth
is stopped. I dare not pray as I would. I well
remember, in the year 1745, being then at Newcastle-
upon-Tyne, before the least appearance of disturb-
ance in Scotland, my soul mourned day and night ;
I was always in trouble, but could not tell for what.
Mr. Charles Wesley was there for some time. When
he preached his farewell sermon, he said, ' If I am
a messenger of God to preach the Gospel unto you,
mark what I say, before you see my face again, you
will have the man on the red horse, and the man on the
pale horse.'' When he spoke these words, the whole
auditory trembled. I myself was there, and felt the
mighty power of God. And it was not long ere we
experienced the truth of his message : we had both
war and death in abundance.

*' January 20, 1796. It was our prayer-meeting
this morning. The maid begged I would not get
up, being so poorly ; but I durst not make it an
excuse. I rose, weak as I was ; and I would not for
the world have lain in my bed. My soul was doubly
blessed. The Lord was with us in truth, and, I
believe, not one soul went away empty. How should
I have regretted, and my heart have smote me, if I
had lain in bed, when I consider how my dear Lord
staid whole nights on the mount, exposed to the
open air, praying for such a hell-deserving sinner.
Oh, I hate excuses, both in myself and others ! We
ishall repent, when we arrive at home, and be con-

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 303

founded, to think how sluggish and lukewarm we
w^ere here in his service. If there can be mourning
in heaven, I shall lament my unfaithfulness and
short-comings to eternity.

" June 4. In the evening, when I was retired,
the enemy came upon me with fury, and said, ' All
your y3raying and doing is in vain ; how do you
know but you have been deceiving yourself all these
years ? ' I answered with great indignation, ' Satan,
thou art a liar. I know that my Redeemer liveth,
and will appear to my salvation, and to thy destruc-
tion ; thou knowest it ; therefore leave oflP to tempt
me. Thou knowest, Jesus ever lives above, at his
Father's right hand, and pleads his precious blood
for me. I know that I am his, and shall be with
him, to behold his glory. My soul disdains to fear ;
for the Lord Jehovah is my righteousness and
strength.' Upon this Satan fled : he cannot stand
the blood of Christ.

*' September 19. In reading Flavel on Provi-
dence, what scenes were opened to me in my own
life ! I can truly say, to the glory of God, goodness
and mercy have followed me all my days, even from
my infancy. What dangers have I escaped both by
sea and land ^ ! What narrow turns for life ! and

• The following interposition of Providence is worthy to be
recorded. " Having been on a visit at Newcastle for my health,"
she observes, *' as I always went and returned by sea, I took
leave of ray relatives, and went in a boat for Shields, to engage
a place in one of the vessels to London. When I came thither,
I met with a neighbour going also to London, who told me, she
had agreed to go with Captain F., and wished me to accompany
her; but, upon hearing his name, I felt immediately such an
aversion, that I said I would not go with him, though I did not
know his person, neither could give any reason. I told my
friend, that as she had agreed to go with him, she ought to go;
but she replied, ' I will not lose your company ; ' so we both
went w ith Captain B. of Whitby. We set sail on Good Friday
in the morning, about forty ships in company; but we had
but just got over the bar into the sea, when a storm arose and
scattered us widely from each other. The storm began about

304 MEMOIRS OF

what sins has the Lord by his providence preserved
me from ! Stand astonished, O my soul, at the
loving-kindness of the Lord ! His arm unseen pre-
vented and saved a poor helpless sinner from ruin's
brink,

** When thro' the flowery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran."

" December 6. Several days past I have found
the state of my mind very uneven, up hill and down.
Unbelief is the torment of my soul. When I feel
myself a little comforted, then I long to be gone,
that I might sin no more, to grieve my Lord by
carnal reasoning. Oh that I could simply believe
what the Lord has said unto me ! But I am so
afraid of being deceived at last, which makes me
unhappy ; and as soon as my comfort is gone, Satan
returns upon me with double fury. How long shall I
grieve God, by making him as changeable as myself!
Wretch that I am, it is a wonder God doth not cut
me off, and cast me into hell ! Indeed, the Lord
does know, I would rejoice evermore, and pray
without ceasing ; and many times I have great
reason so to do ; for the Lord doth often comfort
my soul with the consolations of his Spirit. But
still, I am afraid, when these comforts are gone, lest
they are not from the Spirit of God. Yet, I find
they draw my heart after God and heaven. O thou
that knowest all things, thou knowest that 1 love

seven o'clock in the morning, and we were in it till nine i\X, night.
Two men were continually at the pumps, and two at the helm.
It pleased God we i;ot into the Iluinher, where we lay five days
before we sailed asi;ain. Before we got in here, Captain B. came
and asked us all, how we did? and then added, ' It is a mercy
we are here : I fear we shall have a sad account when we reach
London.' When we arrived, we found that eight ships had
been lost, among which was that in which my friend had
agreed to go, and every soul therein perished ! Praise the Lord,
O my soul, and forget not all his benefits ! This was the Lord's
doing, and it is still marvellous in mine eyes/^

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 305

thee. — Many think, ' Mrs. B. has no trials ; she has
no doubts or fears.' Oh that it were so ! But they
are much mistaken. My want of God's presence in
my soul, is worse to me than all outward afflictions.
As to the world, I have all it can give me. Blessed
be God, he has given me a son, who supplies me
with all I want in the world ; and I doubt not but
God will give it him again. It is not any thing
below the skies that troubles me ; no, it is what the
world can neither give nor take away, that I mourn
for. Sometimes I can say,

" Cheer up my soul, be not afraid,
For Christ is near at hand ;
And thou shalt surely with him be,
Wlien he on Sion stands."

Those are sweet and pleasant moments. Praise
the Lord, O my soul! for thou hast largely tasted
of his comforts in times past ; then, hope thou in
God, for thou shalt yet praise him, who is the
health of thy countenance.

" January 27, 1797. What a night of tossings
has the Lord brought me through ! Here I will
set up my Ebenezer, and praise my God. I feel
and see my fallen state in such a degree, that if God,
in his great mercy, did not point me to the fulness
that is in Christ, 1 should despair still. O wicked,
damning unbelief! My soul is many times sick
through that many-headed monster : when I think
it is gone, it rears its head again and affrights me.
It is of God's wonderful mercy I am not cut off,
and cast into hell. This is my just demerit, but,

** I have an Advocate above,

A Friend before the throne of love."

I read that he is made of God to them that believe,
* wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemp-
tion j' but do I believe? I dare not say, I do not

306 MEMOIRS OF

believe. I know I was accepted in the Beloved,
and God cannot change ; therefore, my soul, hold
fast thy confidence, ' let no one take thy crown/
I would fain say. The will of the Lord be done ;
but I am loath to give up my Isaac. Oh for Abra-
ham's faith ! When I think of him, I sink into
nothing. But, am I called to expect such faith as
Abraham had ? Why not ? seeing God is the same
in all his attributes : and I believe, if I could act
faith upon God as I ought, I should see wonders
performed even for such a poor sinner as me. Yea,
I have seen wonderful things ; but 1 will give God
the glory. I would not, however, be understood to
think myself like Abraham ; but I find a principle
in my soul, that would shew my love to my Lord,
if I knew how. Teach me, O Lord, thy will and
my duty !

*' June 28. I have been in the school of Christ
nearly sixty years ; and the nearer I approach
eternity, the more I see my need of a complete
Saviour. Oh, how I admire the glorious plan of
redemption by the Son of God ! O Lord Jesus, I
would lie in the dust before thee : may my desires
to love thee be accepted ! Amen.

" Sept. 19. I bless God, I feel a revival in my
dry, drooping soul. I have had a long winter-
season, and all through reasoning. If Satan can bring
us to pore upon our own hearts, till we lose the
sight and sense of Christ's fulness, he gains his
end. This, the Lord knows, I am now saying from
bitter experience. Yes, in deep waters hath my
soul travailed ; through floods of temptations have
I passed ; but out of them all the Lord has brought
me. He hath again set my feet upon himself, the
Rock of ages; and I doubt not. — How tenderly
doth my heavenly Father deal with me, so unworthy !
I feel my bodily strength and all my faculties
decline more within these three months, than for
a twelvemonth before. I can rejoice that my jour-

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 307

ney is almost over. Methinks I sometimes see
those that once were my companions here, but now
inheriting mansions above, stand waiting their Lord's
command to go and fetch their sister-spirit home.
I doubt not of our joyful meeting. The Lord has
given me a love-token this morning, in prayer, that
he will come quickly. O how sweet is the name of
Jesus to my soul ! sweeter than all perfumes ! Give
me my God, and let all the world forsake me !

'' March 14, 1799. What the Lord has brought
me through, during several weeks past, tongue can-
not express. Surely, if God had not been with me,
I had been destroyed by the furies of hell. I was
brought to great extremity ; stripped as it were of
all sense of God or heavenly things. I was quite
under a dark veil for weeks. No one but God
knows what I laboured under. I did not know that
I had fallen into any sin ; but Satan suggested, that
I had been unfaithful to grace received. This I
could not deny. I went, therefore, to God with all
my complaints ; I poured out my soul before him ;
but it seemed to be all in vain, as if God did not
regard my grief. But, just as I was giving up my
hope, these words were given me, ' Hope thou in
God, for thou shalt yet praise him, who is thy
God.' My grief assuaged ; hope sprung up in my
soul, and my joy in the Lord was renewed. I be-
lieved that God loveth with an everlasting love.
Praise the Lord, O my soul ! and let not this great
deliverance slip out of thy mind.

" January 17, 1800. I have lived to enter upon
another century, and am now nearly eighty-five
years of age ; a wonder to myself and to many ! Bnt
why should we wonder? Is it not God that gave
me life ? and has he not a right to continue it so
long as will be for his glory? For what cause I
am spared, is best known to my heavenly Father :
and this I can say in his presence, * Suffer me not
to live a day longer than is for thy glory ! ' For me
to live is Christ, but to die is gain ; ' yet, I do not

308 MEMOIRS OF

choose : His will is best. Then, help me, Lord, to
wait thy appointed time, till my change come I
Sometimes I have pleasing thoughts, that some of
my old companions will come to meet me, and
welcome me home. — But my eyes forbid me at
present saying any more.

" January 19. Lord's-day morning. Our prayer-
meeting was a time to be remembered ; the place
was filled with the presence of God ; all were
humbled in the dust before him; our hearts were
deeply melted with a sense of his love. Praise the
Lord, O my soul !

" June 23. I was helped to go to hear Mr.

M preach an awful sermon from the mighty

God speaking to Moses out of the burning bush.
It was good for me that I was there. I was struck
with holy awe, which I want more and more to feel.
Oh, I long for the time when I shall cast my crown
before his feet, and sing, ' Worthy is the Lamb that

was slain ! ' 8cc. Miss D • is going, but I may

be gone before her. I shall be glad to welcome her
into the regions of bliss. We have talked to each
other about the sweet name of Jesus ; but then we
shall see him face to face. O transporting thought !
Then all gloom shall be fled ! "

The above is the last entry in her Diary ; her sight
being now so impaired, that she could no longer
guide her pen. And from this time she began to
feel very sensibly the greatest affliction she had yet
suffered, namely, the great difficulty of reading the
word of God, which for so many years had been her
chief joy. Every help was used to assist her in this ;
and so long as she could, by any efforts whatsoever,
distinguish the words, and collect the sense, of the
sacred pages, they were her continual meditation.
Many tears did she shed when she could no longer
read for herself the precious volume of inspiration ;
and if now and then a lucid interval occurred, when

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 309

she could as it were catch a glance of its contents,
she spoke of it with most lively thankfulness and
joy. Frequently, also, did she bless God, for having
inspired her heart so much to delight in reading his
word formerly, since her memory was thereby stored
with Scripture, on which she could reflect and con-
verse with pleasure. The remainder of her days
were spent with unabating zeal in the good ways of
God ; particularly in stirring up and encouraging all
such as appeared to have set their faces Zionward,
to attend meetings for prayer and experimental con-
verse, which she had always found so beneficial to
her own soul. Young persons of both sexes flocked
around her for spiritual advice, shewing the sin-
cerest aff*ection and reverence for her as a mother in
Israel ; and for these she entertained a reciprocal
love and esteem, having no greater joy, than to see
them walking in the truth. As she had a very deep
experience in the things of God, and an extensive
acquaintance among his people, she was eminently
fitted to be an instructor of babes, and a comforter
of them that mourn. This was her delightful work,
even to the last. She made it the serious business
of her days, and was found in it when her Lord
came.

For some time previous to her last illness, the great
enemy of souls was again permitted to assault and
distress her by sore temptations, and carnal reason-
ings ; particularly through the whole of that day in
the evening of which she had her last meeting with
her class. But such a season of refreshing from the
presence of the Lord did she then experience, as will
long be remembered by several. Speaking of this
afterward, but a little before her death, she said :
*' I had been praying to the Lord, that I might have
a prosperous meeting that night; and, when we
were just entering on the service of it, those words
were given me in a wonderful manner, * The Spirit
of God beareth witness with my spirit, that I am a

•^aa;gg-*>*lfe>*a-

310 MEMOIRS OF

child of God/ I had such a sense of the pardoning
love of God, of my acceptance in Christ the be-
loved, and of my adoption through the Spirit, that
I could not help speaking aloud amongst the people,
' I know that my Redeemer liveth.'" And in so
solemn and affectionate a manner did she commend
her Christian friends to God, and take leave of
them, as if she had been certain that her dissolution
was near at hand. This appears to have been gra-
ciously designed by God, to strengthen her for a
further, and yet more trying conflict of soul with
the great adversary. He did all in his power to dis-
tress her hope, and shake her confidence in God.
Scarcely ever before had she experienced such
exercise of spirit, which continued for some hours ;
in which she wrestled earnestly with God, and called
upon her Christian friends to wrestle for her. But,
at length, the Lord graciously rebuked the adversary,
broke in upon her mind with hght, filled her soul
with peace, and enabled her to triumph in the full
assurance of hope. After this time, though she was
sometimes sharply exercised with pain and distress
in her outward frame, her mind was quite calm, and
comfortably staid upon God.

On Tuesday morning, (Feb. 22, 1 803,) having had
a very painful and restless night, she was extremely
weak in body, but in a most sweetly enlarged frame
of soul, rejoicing in a sense of God's presence with
her, and in the victory which he had given her over
the enemies of her peace. She said : ** Blessed be
God, I have peace : He is mine, and I am his.
Victory, victory, through tlie blood of the Lamb !
He hath set my soul at liberty." A little after-
wards she added : '^ I have had wonderful manifest-
ations of God to my soul, far beyond many ; but
I have always been afraid of saying too much,
rather than too little ; wishing rather that my life
and conversation should witness to the truth of my
profession. So far as I know my own heart, it has

MRS. GRACE BENNET. 311

been my desire and study to adorn the doctrine of
God my Saviour in all things. But I would have
no encomiums passed on me. I am a sinner, saved
freely by grace : grace. Divine grace, is vi^orthy to
have all the glory."^ — ** Some people," she said, " I
have heard speak much of our being faithful to the
grace of God, as if they rested much on their ovs^n
faithfulness : I never could bear this. It is God's
faithfulness to his own word of promise, that is my
only security for salvation." Then, adverting to the
Gospel which she had professed, and the foundation
of her hope towards God, as laid in the atoning blood
and righteousness of Jesus Christ, she raised herself
in a solemn attitude, and with most striking em-
phasis delivered, in the following language, her
dying testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus. *' I
here declare it before you, that I have looked on
the right hand and on the left, I have cast my eyes
before and behind, to see if there was any possible
way of salvation, but by the Son of God ; and I
am fully satisfied there is not : no, none on earth,
nor all the angels in heaven, could have wrought
out salvation for such a sinner : none but the Son
of God himself, taking our nature upon him, and
doing all that the holy law required, could have
procured pardon for me a sinner. He has wrought
out salvation for me, and I know that I shall enjoy
it for ever."

The same morning, when her friend Mr. Merrill
called on her, she said to him : " I have had many
sweet visits from God with you ; and we shall
rejoice together above. Holy, holy, holy Lord
God, how shall I praise thee for what thou hast
done for us ! Eternity will be too short to speak
his praise. I am not able to speak, but God knows
we are friends. We love each other; and we shall
part no more."

Tuesday night she passed with great restlessness
and pain, which held her for many hours, being

312 MEMOIRS OF

evidently the pangs of approaching dissohition ; but
through all, she was kept from discovering the least
impatience, and at every interval was lifting up her
soul to God, that he would be gracious to her, and
grant her a sweet release ; yet saying, ** The Lord's
time is best; the Lord's will be done in us/' By
the motions of her lips and eyes, as well as by the
words she uttered occasionally, it appeared that she
was continually conversing with God, and commend-
ing her departing spirit into His hands who had
redeemed her. Several times she repeated with
great sensibility these words : ** AVhen will his cha-
riot wheels advance, to call his exiled home ? Sweet
Jesus, come quickly, and set my soul at rest V

Wednesday morning, (Feb. 23,) being somewhat
revived, she said, ** I have been exceeding low for
some time, that I could not speak much ; but,
glory be to God, Jesus is mine, and I am his, and
that's enough for me." The Rev. Mr. S. calling
upon her, she was enabled to express with great
clearness, and in a very striking manner, her full
persuasion of the certainty of the Gospel hope, and
the comfortable assurance she had, that in a little
while she should join the blessed and glorious
throne above, in singing the praises of God and the
Lamb for ever. The rest of the day she was much
exercised with pain of body; but her soul was
almost continually wrestling with God in prayer.
About midnight, she fell asleep in Jesus, with these
words, which were the last that could be under-
stood : " Glory be to thee, my God : peace thou
givest me !"

MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT. 313

MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT.

Mrs. M. Flight was born at Abingdon, in Berk-
shire, in the year of our Lord 1725. Her maiden
name was Tomkins. Her parents and all her family
were respectable as to their worldly circumstances,
and eminent for their religious characters. She was
left an orphan while young, and was the eldest of
five children, one of whom died in childhood, and
all the rest before her, and, there is reason to
believe, in the faith and hope of the Gospel.

She became truly pious, and made conscience of
the duties of the closet in her childhood. She has
been often heard to say, with gratitude to God, that
she could not recollect the time when her mind was
destitute of serious impressions. Her religious cha-
racter was formed, through grace, partly under the
instructions of her parents, and the ministry of the
word at Abingdon ; partly under the tuition of two
eminently godly women, who kept a boarding-school
at Hackney, under whose care she was placed at. the
age of fourteen or fifteen ; and partly under the
ministry of the late venerable Dr. King, whose
memory she highly respected, and would often re-
peat the substance of his sermons which she had
heard with pleasure and profit forty or fifty years
before. She often admired and adored the disposing
hand of Divine Providence, which, after she had
lost her parents, placed her in a school, where a
chief object of education was the promotion of the
knowledge and fear of God ; where religious prin-
ciples made a part of every week's exercise, and
where she was brought under that ministry of the
word, by which the serious impressions made in her
childhood were revived and confirmed.

VOL. II. p

314 MEMOIRS Of

Respecting her general Christian deportment
through life, it may be proper to observe a few
things. She was regular and serious in waiting
upon God in all public ordinances, never absenting
herself except through necessity, and always making
conscience of being in her pew a sufficient time to
compose her thoughts before worship began. She
often expressed a deep concern when she had ob-
served members of the church absent without cauae,
at the stated seasons of worship, and had seen any
come in after worship was begun ; both which she
considered as manifesting great want of love to the
regular ordinances of the church, and neglect of the
authority of Christ, as grievous to the minds of his
ministers and steady disciples, and tending even to
the dissolution of regular churches. These things
are mentioned as forming one prominent trait in her
character, and which deeply affected her mind during
some of the last years of her life.

She was not less distinguished by her rehgious
observance of the Sabbath in her own house. Such
was her concern for the religious improvement of
her servants, that she generally arranged her family
affairs so as to give them an opportunity of attending
public worship both morning and afternoon ; but,
having dohe this, she would not suffer them to
attend evening lectures, but called them together,
and asked them questions concerning what they had
heard in the course of the day; sometimes catechised
them, heard them read a portion of Scripture, gene-
rally read a sermon to them herself, and conversed
freely with them about the worth of their souls,
warning, exhorting, and admonishing tbem as occa-
sion required. And, for the encouragement of the
heads of families, we must not omit to mention the
happy effects that followed these religious exercises.
They proved instrumental, in the course of her life,
of the conversion of several who resided under her
roof, and were comfortable and edifying to others,

MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT. 315

of which she received most ample testimonies ; par-
ticularly a letter from a servant who had lived with
her several years before, and had become the mother
of children, who were beginning to inquire after
God. That letter is full of holy gratitude to Him
who fixes the bounds of our habitation, that she had
been directed into her family, where, she acknow-
ledges, that she received her first awakenings, and
was led to Christ, with which she connects the hope
of the salvation of her own children. Mrs. Flight
did not disapprove of Lord's-day evening lectures.
On the contrary, esteeming them very important to
those who had not an opportunity of attending
public worship on the former parts of the day, she
generously contributed to their support; but she
thought them a very improper substitute for family
instruction and worship.

Her acts of beneficence and charity were very
considerable. The objects she relieved were, prin-
cipally, the religious poor, helpless children, and
orphans. In her exertions on behalf of the last
of these, few have equalled her; and when the
young were the objects of her beneficence, it was
always accompanied with her best counsel and
advice.

Her health and strength had evidently been upon
the decline three or four years before her dissolution.
She was, however, so far recovered as not to be with-
out expectation, nor were her friends without hope,
that she might have lived several years ; but it was
otherwise determined by the sovereign Lord of life
and death. Just before she was seized with her
last illness, (at which time she had not the least
apprehension of the near approach of death,) she
said to the writer of this Memoir, she was persuaded
some severe trial was coming upon her ; for that,
for some little time past, she had experienced such
remarkable Divine consolation as she did not re-

p 2

316 MEMOIRS OF

collect she had ever before enjoyed; which she
considered as desip^ned to strengthen her for some
heavy affliction. She added, " As I lay upon my
bed last night, in a sweet sleep, I was suddenly
awakened by the force of Divine consolation, and
my mind was instantly filled with such a rich
variety of promises, that I could sleep no more.
Those words in Titus, i. 2. dwelt particularly upon
my mind : * In hope of eternal life, which God, that
cannot he, promised before the world began.' I
recollected to have heard you preach from them a
few years ago, and that I had borrowed your notes
and not returned them ; I therefore rose out of bed,
and searched for them ; and, in reading and medi-
tating upon the subject, the great promise of eternal
life given by a faithful God before the world
began, filled my mind with such joy as I never felt
before."

Her general conversation was that of a Christian
well grounded in the principles of the Gospel, rich
in experience, in the habitual exercise of faith and
hope, resting her soul entirely upon the free, sove-
reign, and everlasting love of God in Christ, looking
to his blood for pardon, and to his righteousness, in
which she hoped very soon to stand with acceptance
before God.

After she was confined to her bed-room, being
asked the state of her mind, she replied in the
following lines of Dr. Watts :

" The Gospel bears my spirits up;
A fiiithful and uiicliangiag God
Lays the foundation for my hope,
In oatlis, and promises, and blood,"

During the whole of this interview, her soul
appeared full of confidence in the covenant of grace.
Although she manifested no ecstacy of joy, she dis-
covered serenity and complacency of mind, toge-

MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT. 317

ther with great resignation to the will of God in
prayer.

A few days after, her mind was greatly exercised
with the exceeding sinfulness of sin. After some
conversation with her on the infinite merit of the
Redeemer's blood, she mentioned having read in the
writings of Dr. Owen, that " the great work of the
believer is, to take all his sins to Jesus Christ, and
to leave them with him, and to bring away his
righteousness for himself;" she added, " This, I
hope, I have been enabled to do. I am sure, if
there were not infinite merit and perfection in the
blood and righteousness of Christ, it is impossible
that I should be saved." Her mind continued for
several days in a comfortable frame, patiently wait-
ing for her expected change. But about a week
after, she experienced a season of great darkness ;
her faith, however, stood firm, though her comfort
was much abated. She repeated, with no small
emotion, the two first verses of Dr. Watts's version
of the sixty-third Psalm ;

** Great God, indulge my humble claim :
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest !
The glories that compose thy name,
Stand all engag'd to make me blest.

" Thou great and good, thou just and wise,
Thou art my Father and ray God,
And I am thine by sacred ties,

Thy Son thy servant bought with blood."

Her light and comfort soon returned ; when she
said to the minister who visited her, ** A great
variety of promises are continually passing through
my mind. I now experience the happiness of having
been conversant with the Scriptures from my child-
hood; my mind is full of the word of God." She
added ; ** I recollect having heard you preach from
these words : * And let the word of Christ dwell

318 MEMOIRS OF

richly in you.* I have often since thought upon th«
subject. You observed, that it would greatly assist
in secret prayer and meditation, and be a support
in times of affliction, and upon a dying bed. 1 now
feel the truth of these observations. I could not
now do without the word of God. The promises
treasured up in my mind are a source of constant
consolation ; my mind is filled with them ; they are
never absent from me ; and, O ! how sweet and pre-
cious they are !"

But her spiritual conflicts were not all yet over.
About a week or ten days after, her mind was again
overspread with darkness ; but she sunk not into
despair. She said ; *' All is darkness within. The
promises pass through my mind ; but I cannot take
the comfort of them ; they seem as a dead letter.
I feel the necessity of the accompanying influences
of the Holy Spirit of God to apply them." It was
suggested to her, that perhaps the weak state of her
body might have an influence upon her mind. She
said, *' she believed it had, and that Satan also was
busy with her." She added, " Though I cannot
keep my thoughts fixed a moment upon the pro-
mises, nor upon the great truths of the Gospel which
have been my support all through life ; and though
all my former experience appears at times as a
dream ; yet, am I so satisfied in my judgement that
the word of God is true, and that what I have expe-
rienced has been from the Spirit of God, that I
would not give up my hope in the Gospel for ten
thousand worlds. It is all I have to trust to, and,
whether it be dark or light in my mind, I know
God's word is true, and that He is the same under
every dispensation. All my sins have been passing
before me ; the sins of my childhood and youth, of
which I have had no recollection from that time to
the present, are now set in order before me. I abhor
myself, and appear to be the vilest wretch that ever

MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT. 319

lived. I now have apprehensions that my sins are
too naany and great to be forgiven." After many
expressions of this kind, she paused. I took occa-
sion to suggest, that redemption by Christ was fully
sufficient. She eagerly replied : " I know it, I know
it ; I am not in despair. What I now labour under,
is a temptation. The suggestions made to my mind,
I know are false ; but they are very painful to bear.
I abhor them ; and I know that no state of sin can
exceed the redemption that there is in Christ ; and
even now, I feel support in the words of our Lord to
his disciples : ' Let not your heart be troubled : ye
believe in God ; believe also in me. In my Father's
house are many mansions : if it were not so, I would
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you;
and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come
again, and receive you unto myself, that where I am
there ye may be also.'" — She quoted many other
passages of Scripture of the like encouraging nature.
In the whole of the conversation, she discovered
such strong faith in, and firm adherence to, the
truth of the Gospel, under an almost total absence
of comfort, as has seldom been witnessed. She
joined with great fervour in prayer. She lived but
a little time longer ; her conflicts presently ceased ;
her joy in believing was fully restored ; and with
perfect calmness and serenity, in the possession of
all her mental faculties, she fell asleep in Jesus on
the morning of March 5th, 1802, in the seventy-
seventh year of her age.

Thus ended a life of uniform Gospel obedience,
which began in childhood, and was maintained from
first to last by faith in the great and distinguishing
doctrines of the Gospel; which drew all its supplies
from the Fountain of grace, in a steady adherence to
the administration of the word and ordinances of
God, and in the discharge of every religious duty
in the family and in the closet. This excellent

320 MEMOIRS OF

Christian, being dead, yet speaketh, especially to
parents, and to those who have the care of youth,
that they make the great concerns of religion a
leading branch of their education. May young and
old tread in her steps, as the way to the same
happy end !

MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 321

MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD.

)

Mrs. Dornford was born August the 13th, 1735,
and was daughter of John and Mary Lay ton. Her
father was an eminent shipbuilder ; he died when
she was young, and left a competent fortune behind
him for each of his children. In a little manuscript
book, in which she has mentioned the deahngs of
God with her soul, she thus adverts to the circum-
stances of her early life.

" August the 13th, 1776. Merciful Lord! as thou
hast been pleased to spare me to this day, suffer me
to set up my Ebenezer here, for hitherto hath the
Lord helped me. Give me power, strength, and
ability, to commemorate thy gracious dealings with
thy servant, and to enumerate the many favours and
blessings I have received at thy hands for forty-one
years, which have been the years of thy servant.
Thou hast been my Father, even from my mother's
womb. Am I not thy child? Yes, glory be to thee,
I feel I am thine by an everlasting covenant, thine
by adoption and grace, whereby I can call thee
Abba, Father.

" Should this fall into the hands of any of my dear
children or friends, may it be an encouragement to
them to trust in thee ; for, * in the Lord Jehovah is
everlasting strength,' and he will be ' nigh unto all
those that call upon him' in sincerity and truth.
' When thy father and mother forsake thee, the Lord
taketh thee up.' This I can subscribe to, for my
father died when I was of too tender an age to know
any thing of him, not being above a year old, when
the Lord was pleased to release him from much pain
and sorrow. My mother married again ; but, by the
unkind usage of her second husband, was mercifully

p5

o22 MEMOIRS OF

weaned from this world, and having lingered about
ten years after my father, fell asleep in the Lord.
From the time she was dying, I think I may date
the first remembrance of the dealings of God with
my soul, as I recollect I was then at prayer in my
bed for her life. Though she never paid me much
attention, by reason of her continual ill state of
health, yet, I felt a pungent sorrow at losing her,
and prayed much for her life, till a thought struck
me, ' that I ought to be resigned to the will of God,
and not to pray either for her life or death ;' and
therefore I was left dumb before the Lord with much
weeping.

** I laid down rules for a holy walk with God, and
brought myself to stated times of prayer; but this
was all in secret, as I had no one to teach me by
example or precept."

Having formed and cherished a strong attachment
to a cousin, but feeling scruples as to the expediency
of being united in marriage to a relation, she retired
for about a year and an half to Weymouth, during
which period her cousin was brought to the know-
ledge of God. In consequence of which he wrote
to her, and received in answer a letter, part of which
here follows :

'' I cannot leave you in an error concerning the
duty I owe to the Supreme Being ; so I take the
first opportunity of answering yours of yesterday, to
justify myself in that point as well as I can. 1 am
not a little concerned that you should entertain so
mean an opinion of me, as to think I had not read
the Scriptures sufficiently to understand what is
made so plain to the meanest capacity. Yes, I have
endeavoured, as much as in my power, to act accord-
ing to the rules prescribed by our dear Redeemer,
and have commemorated his sufferings for us every
time the holy Sacrament has been administered since
I have been in this place. I must own I had not the
same opportunity for it before, nor was my mind so

MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 323

serene then to admit of it; but here I have had
nothing to disturb my tranquillity. I have taken
innocent diversions, which I have thought no harm
in pursuing : I avoid that which I am conscious is
not right, and never keep company with any whose
morals are not as good as my own. This, my out-
ward behaviour, as well as my conscience, can jus-
tify, though, by your letter, you seem to have enter-
tained a very different opinion of me.

" Your intention was very good in sending me the
enclosed pamphlets ; but there was no need of any
thing more to confirm me in my religion, than what
I had before read. As for Bishop Beveridge, I have
long been acquainted with him, he being a great
favourite of mine. I will keep in the same path I
have hitherto done ; which 1 hope will at last bring
me to everlasting life. I have no more to add, but
remain," &c.

When she wrote this letter, no doubt she was as
sincere as St. Paul before his going to Damascus.
But her own account of the subsequent change
wrought on her mind, will supply the best comment
on the self-righteous tone of the above extract.

*' My intention was to have returned to Wey-
mouth ; but my grandmother dying, the lady with
whom I boarded came to reside in town, which
entirely put an end to that intention. I heard the
Rev. Mr. R , and was convinced in my judge-
ment, that what was preached was the truth, and
found a desire to experience the validity of it in my
own soul. After this, I was frequently on my knees
in private, begging of God to bring me to the know-
ledge of himself and the pardon of sin. I began to
see myself a lost, undone creature, without Christ.
I was restless and unhappy, and could taste no real
joy in any thing. My friends saw a change in me ;
for, as before I was lively, and of a gay, cheerful
turn, I now became dull, and took little notice of any

324 MEMOIRS OF

thing. Some pitied me, others laughed at me. I
was spoiled for the world, and was not happy in
God ; but I could not rest without the assurance of
salvation. I saw the necessity of becoming a new
creature. I felt that I could give up all for Christ.
This brought a joy unspeakable into my soul. I
fell on my knees instantly, to praise God for what
he had already done for me ; and I could trust him
for what he would yet do in me ; and my soul was
all joy; it was a * peace which passeth all under-
standing.'"

She was married to Mr. Dornford, December 14,
1759, at St. Dunstan's in the West, by the Rev. W.
Romaine, who was then lecturer of that church.
The following extracts from her diary will discover
the state of her mind, as she entered into the cares
of life.

'' My soul continued in a happy, peaceful frame
for some time ; but the cares of the world came on
very rapidly. In less than five years, T had five
dear little boys; but at the fortnight's end of the
fifth, that, and another of a year old, died in a week :
however, the Lord was my support, and brought me
through with shouting, so that I had reason to cry
out, Grace ! grace ! 1 had no more children for four
years; then I rejoiced over a fine girl: but he
whose wisdom is in the great deep, saw fit to take
her unto himself in two days. This trial also I was
enabled to bear with great resignation. After this,
I had many and sore conflicts. My soul, through
the weakness of my frame, had many doubts and
fears ; but that God who is ever faithful to his
promises, never left nor forsook us, but was conti-
nually blessing us * in our basket and in our store.' "

About this time, being in an ill state of health,
she took a journey into Yorkshire. During her stay
in the country, she wrote several pieces of religious
poetry, of which the following are specimens.

MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 325

E. D. to J. D. from Yorkshire^ JunCy 1767.

The thousand beauties which surround,
The hills, the dales, th' enaraell'd ground,
Birds, beasts, and flowers, conspire to raise
My heart to God, to sing his praise.

Come then, ye sweet, angelic throng,
Teach me your notes, inspire ray song :
Lend, lend me your exalted strains;
Let harmony fill all the plains.

Emanuel's love shall be my theme;
Join, gentle brook and murm'ring stream :
Ye little warblers, swell your throats,
Assist me with your softest notes.

Whilst I repeat redeeming love,
Echo it back through all the grove ;
Till sinners flock to hear the sounds,
And sing his love, which knows no bounds.

ON DEATH.

Ah ! king of terrors, cease to fright

My weary, troubled soul ;
I long and wish, but dread the sight,

While Jordan's billows roll.

Then put a pleasing aspect on,

Nor let me fear thy face;
For Christ the mighty battle won,

And I am sav'd by grace.

I fly to meet my promis'd rest.

To regions far above ;
For solid joys are there possest,

And all are filled with love.

Adieu, ye flatt'ring forms of bliss.

Nor dare to tempt me more ;
Ye yield no lasting happiness.

Like that on yonder shore.

For faith has pluck'd the monster's sting.

And set the pris'ner free;
To God will I give thanks and sing,

Who gives the victory.

Mrs. Dornford, for the greater part of her life,
walked in the light of God's countenance; but she

326 MEMOIRS OF

had her dark hours, and was sometimes '* in heavi-
ness through manifold temptations." The verses
following were written when she was in distress of
mind.

IN TEMPTATION.

I 'm rack'd with sore temptations strong :

My heart can hold no more ;
Distracting thoughts break from my tongue,

My eyes with tears run o'er.

Pray'r is restrain'd ; I cannot pray,

I only make my moan.
Ah me ! in woeful sighs I say,

My God ! in ev'ry groan.

Still in this vale of woe I'm tost.

No human comfort nigh :
To look within myself, I'm lost,

To Jesus then I'll fly.

What is there here to make me blest ?

'Tis all an empty show.
This world a bubble is at best;
There's no true bliss below.

O come, my Saviour, from above,

Refresh my weary soul ;
Embrace me with thine arms of love,

Then let the billows roll.

My soul Jehovah shall adore.

No rival shall be there :
Temptations now shall reign no naore,

Nor fears, nor anxious care.

December 31, 17 ?C.
•^ This being the last day of the year, I desire to
praise God for all his mercies to me, from the day
of my birth unto this moment." About this time
she wrote the following hymn :

O Jesus, my Saviour and Friend,

On whom I cast every care.
On whom 1 for mercy depend.

Inspire and accept of my prayer.

MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 327

Still keep me, and guide me aright,

Nor ever a moment depart ;
Thy love shall be all my delight,

1^11 hold thee still close to my heart.

My trust is in what thou hast done,
Thy suff'rings, and death on the tree ;

No merit I plead of my own,

Nor righteousness, Lord, but in thee.

The year 1777 she began with these words:

" January 1, 1777.

" Glory be to God, who has permitted me to see
the beginning of another year ! Grant, O blessed Re-
deemer ! that I may improve it more to thy honour
and glory, than the years that are past.

*' May 18. This day, being Whitsunday, I was at
the table of our Lord, and received those comfort-
able words, that ' He died for me,' with much faith
and power. God grant that I may always have a
thankful remembrance of that precious blood of
Christ, which was shed for me and all those who
believe in his name.

"March 18, 1778. Now, O my God! let me
begin again. How have I neglected and abused thy
goodness, in sparing me to this moment ! Help me,
O my God I to set forth and to declare thy loving-
kindness to me, who deserve not the least of thy
mercies, and yet, thou art ever loading me with thy
bounties. Thou didst shake the rod over me ; but
thy bowels did yearn, and thou hast spared me and
mine to this hour. O let me dedicate the remainder
of my days to thy service."

Mrs. Dornford's health from this time continued
to decline. The dropsy, attended with other com-
plaints, made so rapid progress, that she hardly
experienced a day's health; but her soul grew ** in
grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ." As she drew nearer her end, she
had still larger and clearer manifestations of the love
of God to her soul. Her will seemed to be wholly

328 MEMOIRS OF

swallowed up in the will of God. Though the very
nature of her disorder tended to make her uncom-
fortable to herself and her friends, and made her
sometimes long to be well, that she might be more
useful, and a little uneasy that she could not do
many things in her family which she wanted to do ;
yet, this also, for some time before her death,
seemed quite done away, and she was enabled to
make an entu'e surrender of body and soul to the
will and pleasure of God.

When any one called to see her, she generally
spake to them of the love of Christ to sinners, and
exhorted them to seek an interest in him. She was
for some time before her death brought to that sweet
disposition of mind ; '* willing to depart and to be
with Christ," or to stay as long as God pleased.
Finding that the physicians could do her no good,
and that it was considered by them as a lost case,
she dismissed them with thanks, and said she would
give herself into the hands of her great Physician,
and let him do with her whatever he pleased.

As her life drew near to its period, she was almost
always in a praying or praising frame, and used to
say, '* O never doubt of the goodness of God any
more !" She had learned to live upon God by faith
from moment to moment. She took literally " no
thought for the morrow,'* and arrived at that blessed
state of mind, to be disentangled from all creatures
and things. She justified God always, saying, *' He
does all things well." As for death or dying, she
seemed to leave it all to God, never expressing the
least fear about it. That she expected death very
soon, v;as plain from many expressions she made
use of. Two or three days before her death, she said
to a friend, ** I expect the water will very soon reach
my heart, and then 1 am gone." She said, she "now
could give up all into the hands of God, and was
wholly disentangled from all creatures." She con-
tinued cheerful and happy all the day, for the '' joy
of the Lord was her strength."

MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 329

Death came on her that night; she was very
restless, but never lost her senses. Among other
things she said, " As the outward man decays, the
inward man is renewed." About five in the morn-
ing she went seemingly into a sweet sleep. On
her continuing to sleep longer than usual, it was
concluded that she was dying, but she was " sleep-
ing in Jesus :" nor had she one of those dreadful
symptoms which usually attend the '* king of ter-
rors ;" so sweetly and so easily did she resign her
soul into the hands of her dear Redeemer.

Thus she lived and died a Christian indeed, an
'* Israelite without guile ;" one who, through divine
grace, was *' redeemed from all iniquity ;" one, who
was restored to the favour and to the image of God,
a living temple of the ever-blessed God.

330 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. HANNAH WOODD.

Mrs. Hannah Wo odd was born at Richmond, in
Surrey, on the 19th of April, 1736. In July, 1759,
she was married to Mr. Basil Woodd, who was also
born at Richmond in 1730, and with whom she had
been acquainted from her infancy. Such a union,
cemented by long endearment and similarity of
disposition, promised a scene of much temporal
felicity ; but a mysterious dispensation of Divine
Providence determined it otherwise. The January
following, Mr. Woodd, being then from home on a
visit, was seized with a violent fever, and died on
the 12th of that month. So great a shock, to a mind
of her sensibility, could leave no faint impression ;
but it pleased God to support her in this keen trial,
and on the 5th of August following, she was delivered
of a son. Providence wonderfully interposed in
her favour ; and both root and branch, though then
apparently withering, were preserved together, just
as many years longer as she had then lived.

The afflictive circumstance of her husband's death,
nevertheless, proved an eventual blessing, though
conveyed in the disguise of woe. By one stroke her
mind was severed from worldly prospects, and being-
rent from the love of the creature, she now began
more anxiously to seek the knowledge and love of
the Creator. She had from early life been of a
devout turn of mind, a strict observer of moral
duties, and the ritual of rehgion ; but now, in the
day of adversity, she was brought to deeper views of
the depravity of her heart, and the need she stood in
of a Saviour. She perceived the insufficiency of her
own righteousness, and the necessity of being
born again.

Pious friends, who had sympathized in her late

MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 331

affliction, now observing the spiritual concern of her
mind, availed themselves of this opportunity to bring
her under the ministry of the Gospel. Amongst
these were principally the late Mrs. Conyers and
Mrs. Wilberforce, with whom her acquaintance had
commenced at school, and by whom she was about
this time introduced to the acquaintance of Dr.
Conyers and the Rev. Mr. Venn. In the spirit of
true Christian friendship, they lamented that she
had hitherto had no better instruction than mere
moral essays, and brought her acquainted with
sound evangelical principles. These proved indeed
the spiritual food which her soul hungered after :
she received them in faith and love, adorned them
in her life, and found them her triumph in her
dying hour.

From this happy period, to a disposition naturally
benign and amiable, were added the graces of the
Holy Spirit ; and the Christian motive of love to the
Lord Jesus, gave life and spirituality to her moral
duties. Religious exercises, which hitherto she had
not regarded higher than as a devout form of godli-
ness, now became her soul's delight. She ordinarily
retired three times in the day for private prayer ;
at morning, noon, and at evening. Love to God
her Saviour led her with cheerful feet to the
courts of the Lord's house; — a privilege she so
highly valued, that she rarely permitted inclement
weather, or the late decay of her health, to interfere
with it.

Though filial affection may be suspected of exag-
gerating a mother's excellence, yet, it is but justice
to say, that, in every department, she was a lovely
ornament of the truth as it is in Jesus ; particularly
as a daughter, a mother, and a mistress. As to the
former relation, she constantly attended her father
till his death, at the advanced age of 87 * ; who,

• September l&t, 1778.

332 MEMOIRS OF

though he was very much prejudiced against her
religious principles, yet, lived to have his mind
greatly won by her uniform conduct; and on his
death-bed, he regretted that he had ever opposed
her ; and acknowledged in the most affecting manner
his long experience of her filial duty.

As a mother, the Rev. Dr. Conyers frequently
said, that he never saw such an instance of maternal
affection. Her son says : " This is a subject on
which, 1 hope, I shall never think without heart-felt
gratitude to her and to God, who so favoured me.
The whole of her deportment was calculated to win
my early attention to religion. 1 saw in her what it
could do ; how happy ! how cheerful ! how humble !
how holy ! how lovely in life, and afterwards in
death ! how full of mercy and good fruits it could
render the happy possessor ! As I was the only son
of my mother, and she a widow, she might perhaps
lean to the side of over-indulgence. Yet, if my heart
do not deceive me, in trusting that I love the ways
of God, I am indebted, through Divine grace, for
that inestimable benefit, to the impression of her
great and tender kindness, her uniform example, and
particularly her pious and affectionate letters, when
I was about thirteen years old. Such, indeed, has
been the impression of her parental affection, that
though my friends, I believe, have never charged
me with filial negligence, yet, since her decease, I
have regretted very frequently that, in many little
instances, I conceive I might have shown her still
more respect and affection."

As a mistress, she exhibited not less excellence.
If she erred, her error was the excess of kindness and
humility. In the few changes which happened in
her service, her first attention was to the spiritual
welfare of a new servant. And by the Divine blessing
on her pious conversation, the religious books which
she put in their hands, and the kindness of her
deportment towards her inferiors, three of 1^^^

MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 3^3

servants were conciliated to become followers of her,
as she was also of Christ Jesus.

If there was in any of her acquaintance the least
appearance of incipient piety, it is well remembered
with what tender anxiety she would pray, would
weep, would warn, would encourage, and strive all in
her power to fan the spark, and prevent its expiring.
In a word, as an eminent minister said of her, when
informed of her decease, and what a glorious testi-
mony she had given on her death-bed : ** It was
indulgent in God to grant it, but Mrs. Woodd needed
no such testimony : her life had been one continued
testimony to the truth, and no particular testimony
was requisite at her death. — There is not a person
in the parish, who has heard the report that Mrs.
Woodd is dead, but has instantly observed. Well,
that looman is gone to heaven."

Yet, with this amiable lustre of character, while
no one doubted of her eternal safety, she was full of
doubts and fears herself. Self-suspicion and a dread
of judging too favourably of her own state, pervaded
all her experience. Sermons which urged and
assisted self-examination, as well as those which
exhibited the glory and free grace of the Saviour,
were to her ears peculiarly acceptable. " Try me,
O God ! and search the ground of my heart," was
her earnest supphcation. She had a hope, which
she would not give up ; but still, she rejoiced with
trembling. Hence, until it pleased God to afflict her
with bodily infirmities, her attainments in this respect
rarely exceeded an humble confidence.

In the year 1779, was laid the foundation of the
disorder which at length occasioned her death. A
severe fit of illness confined her to her room six or
seven months. From that time, she was much
afflicted with a species of rheumatic gout, which
occasioned great pain, weakness and swelling in the
joints. She made trial of sea-bathing, and repaired
to Harrowgate, Buxton, Bath, &c. Various means

334 MEMOIRS OF

were used, but the remedy remained unknown. The
last year of her Ufe, she was unable to rise from her
seat without assistance, and was almost in a state of
helplessness. The disorder at last attacked her
stomach. An entire loss of appetite took place, and
a perpetual sickness, which baffled all medicine.

God now visited her soul with more peculiar ma-
nifestations of the light of his Divine countenance.
She believed her end to be approaching, and seemed
to be gradually filled with unspeakable joy, as the
day drew nigh, which for ever terminated all her
sorrow.

Since her decease, upon looking over a kind of
diary which her humility forbade any one to open
in her lifetime, we have met with the following
meditation on the last birth-day she spent on earth,
which will inform the reader of the state of her
mind, better than any vague description. It is
transcribed, without one alteration, in her own easy,
familiar style.

" April 19, 1784.

" This is the day of my birth. Oh, my gracious
Lord, make me sensible of thy mercies ! I would
be all praise and thanksgiving. I would praise
thee for my birth, for there thy mercies began, and
they have followed me all my days. — Dearest
Lord ! 1 cannot express my thanks ; but thou seest
my heart, and, I trust, seest me longing to be thank-
ful ! Oh that I could render praise and gratitude
to thee, who, I humbly trust, hast new-created my
soul. This, this alone, makes the day of natural
birth to be looked back to with comfort. Oh for a
grateful heart ! Help me, gracious Lord, to praise
thee for all that is past ! My heart is full. — 1 want
words. Oh help me to look forward ! I have lived
here a long time ; help me to look beyond the
grave ; to look to thy right hand. Increase my faith.
Help me to believe that thou hast indeed called me
by thy grace, begun the good work, and that thou

MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 335

wilt carry it on, and keep me ; that where thou my
blessed Jesus art, there thy poor unworthy servant
shall be ! Oh, glory be to thy name, the work is
thine own, and my trust is in thee ! Oh, keep me
and save me, blessed Lord ! I give myself to thee !
Oh bring me to those blessed mansions of peace,
where I shall be able to praise thee ; where I shall
be delivered from the painful clog of this body,
which weighs down my soul ! Prepare me for thy
coming ! Oh make me watchful and ready to meet
thee, when thou shalt please to send thy messenger,
death, for me ! — Make the pain I continually feel of
use to me. — Sure, I cannot be long here! — O
quicken my soul ! Fix my affections on heavenly
things. Give me clearer views. Oh give me a sense
of pardoned sin ! Wash me in thy precious blood.
Clothe me with thy perfect righteousness. Conform
me more to thy Divine image ; and help me to meet
death as a kind friend, come to fetch me home to

thee ! Amen, amen, thou dearest Lord !"

Religion shines in every situation and circum-
stance of life ; but, as an incontestable evidence of
its own purity and power, it is most transcendent on
the eve of dissolution. The Christian then, ** hke
the sun, looks largest when he sets." Humanity
naturally trembles at the idea of death. To close
the eyes on the most beloved objects ; to become a
pale, lifeless corpse ; and, concealed from mortal
view, to be consigned over to the prey of worms and
corruption, are circumstances which we shudder at
the thought of inevitably experiencing. But to see
a soul with all these views before it, not merely
armed with fortitude, not merely made willing by
resignation, but smiling with calm delight at their
appearance, and rejoicing with unspeakable joy at
their sensible approach ; is not this a fact that
speaks for itself? Is not this an argument incontro-
vertible, an undeniable proof of the support which
true religion can impart to its sincere votary ? I& it

336 MEMOIRS OF

not an animated comment upon the promise, '' I
will never leave thee ; no, nor ever forsake thee ?"
The subject of this memoir was one whose feelings
in a striking manner described the above portrait,
without exaggerating or over-colouring the piece.

On Sunday, the 7th of November, Mrs. Woodd
dictated the following letter to the Rev. Dr.
Conyers :

MY VERY DEAR SIR,

I have loved you dearly in the Christian bonds :
I now long to let my dear Dr. Conyers know, that I
am dying, and not afraid. I trust I am going to my
dear Father's house. I was never so happy in all
the days of my life. — I would write to tell you
what my soul feels in this blessed prospect, that I
might bear my testimony to his grace ; that I might
refresh your soul, who have so often refreshed mine,
and tell you what joy I feel in this prospect. I do
not doubt of meeting you in heaven, and my dear
child too.

Your true Christian friend,

Hannah Woodd.

Greenwich Road, Nov. 7, 1784.

Evidences of the joyful state of her mind may be
collected from what she said on her death-bed. On
her son's return from St. Peter's, Cornhill, that
evening, she took hold of his hand and seemed much
animated. " God," said she, *' my dear, has been
very gracious this afternoon : he sent my son from
me, but he sent himself to me. O, I am very happy !
I am going to my mansion in the skies. I shall
soon be there ; and oh ! I shall be glad to receive
you to it. You shall come in, but you shall never
go out ; no, never !"

Pausing a little, she said : " If ever you have a
family, tell the children, they had a grandmother
who feared God, and found the comforts of it on

MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 337

her death-bed. And tell your partner, I shall be
glad to see her in heaven : when you come to glory,
you must brino- her with you. Let me tell you by
my own experience, when you come to lie upon
your deatb-bed, an interest in Jesus will be found a
precious possession. O what a mercy of mercies,
that we should be brought out of the bondage of
Egypt, and united together in the kingdom of God's
dear Son ! I exhort you to preach the gospel :
preach it faithfully and boldly. Fear not the face
of man. Endeavour to put in a word of comfort to
the humble believer, to poor weak souls. I heartily
wish you success : may you be useful to the souls
of many !"

Being fatigued, she rested some httle time. As
soon as supper was over, she renewed her triumphant
language ; and after she had dictated the preceding
letter, she was elated into transports, in speaking of
the boundless love of Christ and his salvation. '' It
is," she cried out, *' a glorious salvation ! a free,
unmerited salvation ! a full, complete salvation ! a
perfect, eternal salvation ! It is a deliverance from
every enemy. It is a supply of every want. It is
all I can wish for in time. It is all I can now wish
for in death. It is all I shall want in eternity."

She went on in this strain for a long while, with
an amazing quick succession of ideas. Then, upon
seeing her son, she changed the subject, and, in the
same elevated style, went on for about ten minutes,
blessing and praising God for the great comfort they
had experienced in each other, the union which
subsisted between them, and the blessed hope that,
though they were now about to part for a season, thev
should one day meet again for ever. In this last
instance, her feelings were worked up to more than
she could well sustain ; and she spoke with such
rapidity, that it was impossible to take down, or
recollect one half which she said. In the afternoon,
she had taken a most affectionate leave of some of

VOL. II. Q

338 MEMOIRS OF

her friends, to whom she expressed a full assurance
of her eternal felicity, and wished them much hap-
piness till she met them in a better place.

Sunday night, she had but little rest. Monday
morning, she desired a person to read to her the
verses on the death of Mrs. Conyers. After hearing
them with great pleasure, she exclaimed, " I shall
see that dear friend of mine again, and her dear
partner : we shall unite in praise for ever." — Advert-
ing to the adorable Redeemer, she repeated with
great feeling those lines of Mr. Cennick's :

" I long to see those hands which made me blest,
Those feet which travelled to procure my rest :
I long to see that dear, that sacred head,
Which bow'd, when on it all my sins were laid.
The angels wait; ray Saviour calls ; — Farewell I
I go, with him in endless peace to dwell.''

After a short pause she proceeded ;

" I long to behold him array'd

With glory and light from above ;
The King in his beauty display'd,
His beauty of holiest love.

" I trust, thro' his grace, to be there,
Where Jesus has fix'd his abode.
Oh when shall we meet in the air,
And fly to the mount of my God?"

A short time after, she asked a friend, whether
she had a good hope for her; and whether, in the
opinion of her friends, her life had been consistent
with her profession. Her friend replied in the
affirmative, and added : '' Why should you make
yourself anxious about what others think of you?
Have you not a good hope for yourself?" — " Yes,
said she, " thank God, I have a hope built upon the
rock of ages."

She desired that all who came to the house might
see her. This request, however, a desire to preserve

MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 339

her life a little longer, forbade complying with.
Accidentally hearing the name of one who called,
she entreated earnestly she might see him : upon
his coming into the room, she took hold of his hand,
and said, *' Ah ! my friend, I am dying ; but I am
going to glory ; I shall soon see my dear heavenly
Father. God bless you, and be with you, till I meet
you there. I shall be glad to see you. Farewell."
After his departure she said, '' I hope it will please
God not to permit me to dishonour his cause. I
trust, my death will shew how God can support a
poor weak believer. If it be his blessed will, I hope
I shall die in triumph, and leave behind me a testi-
mony of his grace. I long to tell others what joy I
feel, what God has done for me, and what God will
do for all that trust in him."

A friend of hers happening to call, who had lost
a pious son in the prime of life, she addressed her
with great affection : *' Ah, Mrs. Mason, I shall soon
be in glory ; I shall soon see your dear child Samuel ;
I loved him dearly ; we shall soon meet again ; and
in God's time you shall join us."

That same afternoon, she was seized with a strong
convulsion fit, which greatly alarmed her friends.
When she came to herself, she did not seem the
least sensible of what had happened, and proceeded
in the same animated manner as before. Soon after
her recovery from the fit, a friend came in, and
having felt her pulse, remarked, there was nothing
to be immediately alarmed at. She replied with
great eagerness, as if she felt injured at the expres-
sion, " I am not alarmed ; no, I am not afraid : I am
going to heaven.'' Perceiving her son near her, she
said : " Now do you vouch for me ; am I alarmed ?
No, I know I shall be happy."

After a little time, she recollected the circum-
stance of a person's saying, in great agony of mind
upon his death-bed, to one who was present, with
much horror, " Woman, how shall I go through

Q 2

340 MEMOIRS OF

this great scene?" She repeated the sentence,
paused on it for a few minutes, but then exclaimed
with great triumph, " It is no great scene to me ;
no, it is a blessed scene ; it is a glorious scene to
me. I am going to my God. I shall see the King
in his beauty ; I shall be for ever near him ; I shall
for ever sing his praises."

Her heart was again much elated, and was almost
overpowered with sensations of gratitude in reflecting
upon God's goodness towards her. " God," she
said, addressing her son, '' has greatly indulged my
desires ; has answered my prayers in a wonderful
manner. How has he dealt with me in sparing me
so long, to see you, my son, settled in life ! I
remember, when I used to express my anxiety for
your eternal welfare to a friend of mine, he always
said, in allusion to the story of Monica, the mother
of St. Augustine, ' Go home and make yourself
easy ;^^ the child of those tears can never perish.'
Now, my dear, when God has removed me, imitate
St. Augustine's behaviour after the death of Monica ;
do not be dejected ; think of the happiness I shall
then be enjoying, and say, as he said, when some
wondered at his cheerfulness, * My mother is not a
woman to be lamented.'"

She then desired to hear the fifty-fourth chapter
of Isaiah. At the fifth verse, she cried out with
rapture, *' My Maker is my husband, the Lord of
Hosts is his name !" And again, *' God called me
as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit." After
this, she lay seemingly much fatigued the rest of the
evening : her mind seemed wholly conversant with
heavenly things, but she was too much exhausted
for more conversation. At a quarter before twelve,
the fit again came on ; and she was in strong con-
vulsions, with some short intermissions, until half
past four, during which space she had in all five fits.
In the intervals, her mind seemed to retain its ele-
vated state. She spoke with great pleasure of her

MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 341

speedy departure ; and dwelt with rapture upon her
glorious inheritance. ^* O how happy shall I be,"
said she, *' to see you all there !"

She desired a friend, who sat up with her, to sing
the following hymn :

*' From all that dwell below the skies,
Let the Creator's praise arise ;
Let the Redeemer's name be sung,
Thro' every land, by every tongue.

" Eternal are thy mercies, Lord,
Eternal truth attends thy word :
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more."

She attempted to join herself, but her voice fal-
tered. When this was finished, and she had again
expressed the great joy she felt in the prospect of
death, ** Come," said she, '^ sing me another, sing
me this :''

" Hosannah to Jesus on high,
Another has enter'd his rest ;
Another escap'd to the sky,

And lodg'd in Emanuel's breast."

Her friends were too much affected for such a
strain as this ; therefore, it was not attempted. The
last fit she had on this morning, greatly impaired
her strength, and left her in a kind of stupor. Her
face grew very pale, her eyes lost their vivacity, and
her change seemed approaching very fast. She lay in
this state the whole of the day, and appeared not to
recollect any about her, excepting now and then.
By what little could be made out, she seemed very
composed and happy, though her strength was
greatly debilitated. She said at one time, " I shall
see him as he is : I shall be for ever near him, and
behold his face : my eyes shall behold him : 1 shall
see him for myself, and not another." But this she
spoke with great weakness and languor, and seemed

342 MEMOIRS OF

on the verge of experiencing the blessings she was
speaking of. In the evening she had another fit,
in which she lay about twenty minutes, and con-
tinued all the night partly in a doze, and partly
insensible.

Wednesday, she continued in the same state, and
had three very strong fits. Upon listening very
attentively to her, she was heard whispering to
herself, ** Blessed be God ! blessed be God !" She
seemed perfectly calm and happy ; but these intervals
of sense were diminished by each fit. About nine
in the evening, her son spoke to her, to see if she
knew him : she seemed sensible for a few minutes,
called him by name, and expressed how tenderly
she loved liim. During the night, she was almost
incessantly convulsed, but no regular fit came on till
about half past two : before breakfast-time, she had
five fits. In the interval of the fifth, he addressed
her, '* My dearest mother, do you know me?" She
replied, *' My dear son Basil, I am afraid you will
make yOurself ill;" alluding to his having sat up
with her. This was the last time she spoke. From
this hour she drew her breath with great difiiculty ;
and between this and eleven at night, she had no
fewer than thirty fits ; but in all these, it was evident
she felt no pain ; nor was she sensible, or in the least
conscious, that she had been so attacked.

The hour was now approaching, in which her
friends were to part with this valuable woman, whom
they had been so long endeared to, whom they
hiohly respected as a mother, sincerely loved as a
friend, and admired as a real Christian. Still, the
assured confidence of her eternal salvation would
not permit them but to rejoice in the approaching
felicity of one, to whom they had been so nearly
allied. They reflected on the goodness of God, in
that her valuable fife was so long spared, and that
they had for so many years the benefit of her
instruction^ example, and prayers. She expired on

MRS. HANNAH A\^OODD. 343

the 12th of November, 1784. On the J 9th instant,
her dear remains were interred at Richmond. There
rest the yet much valued relics, until a brighter
morning clothes them with additional beauty ; then,
waking up from their temporary slumber, they shall
be made like unto Christ's glorified body, according
to the working whereby he is able to subdue all
things to himself.

The above account is copied from a letter written
by her son, the Rev. Basil Woodd, to the Rev. Dr.
Conyers, Rector of St. Paul's, Deptford, dated
Greenwich, Nov. 25, 1784.

344 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. MARGARET WALKER.

Mrs. Walker was descended from an ancient
family in the shire of Peebles, North Britain. Her
father, Mr. James Geddes, an advocate at the Scotch
bar, was the only son of James Geddes, of Radian
and Kirknrd, Esq. and of Catherine, the daughter of
Sir James Lockhart, of Carstairs. He married Eliza-
beth, eldest daughter of Patrick Grant, Esq. of
Elchies, one of the lords of session and justiciary,
and a judge distinguished for knowledge and in-
tegrity. The only fruit of this marriage, besides a
short-lived infant, was Margaret, the subject of this
memoir. She was only two years old when her
mother died : her father married again, but, in a, few
years, was cut off by consumption ; and before the
death of his own father. Mr. Geddes was a man of
amiable character and of learning, and left behind
him a work on the composition of the Greek
authors.

Miss Geddes was born on the 19th of August,
1737. After being at boarding-school in Edinburgh,
she was brought up chiefly among her female rela-
tions by the mother's side. Lord Elchies kept an
exemplary house ; his eldest daughter had been a
singularly pious woman, and died in great enjoyment
of faith and hope. Miss G.'s first serious impres-
sions were formed so early as in her tenth year,
under the ministry of some divines of Edinburgh.
Mr. Whitefield's first visit to that city, and his
occasional labours there afterwards, were made sin-
gularly useful to her ; as, it is remarkable, they also
were to her future husband. She soon felt the
opposition between the friendship of tliis world and
that of God ; but, having found the pearl of great
price, she was enabled to sell all to obtain it. Na-

MRS. WALKER. 345

turally amiable, diffident of her opinion, and dis-
posed to yield to the judgement of others, she was
yet on this point a determined character very early ;
and, during her whole life, decision, fervour, and
consistency, distinguished her profession of the
Gospel.

Miss Geddes occasionally spent some time in the
Highlands, where, though she often felt the want of
public worship, she was happy in the company, and
was reciprocally the great comfort of a most ex-
cellent and pious aunt, to whom she was much
attached, the deceased Mrs. Grant, of Rothie-
murchus. Indeed, as she possessed a remarkably
cheerful and social temper, which, notwithstanding
all the trials of her past and future life, never
forsook her, she was singularly qualified to enliven
others.

From the time that the late Rev. Robert Walker
became one of the ministers of the High Church of
Edinburgh, she sat under his valuable and faithful
ministry. With this most respectable and excellent
clergyman, to whom she was related^', she formed a
strong friendship, which lasted as long as he lived,
and which she considered as one of the chief bless-
ings and privileges of her life. The writer of these
pages believes, that it was in the course of this
intimacy that she became first known to the gentle-
man of the same name, though no relation, to whom
she afterwards gave her hand ; Mr. John Walker,
merchant in Edinburgh. Mr. Walker was far her
superior in years, but the worth of his character was
to her the strongest possible recommendation.
They were married on the 29th of October, 1766,
and lived together upwards of nineteen years. He
died March 13, 1786, aged 74. His character will
long be remembered, both in the civil and in the

* By his marriage to Sir Robert Dickson's sister, who was her
grand-aunt. Lord Elchies' wife having been another sister.

q5

346 MEMOIRS OF

religious community of Edinburgh, to whose benefit
his labours were devoted. In the former depart-
ment, whether in or out of the magistracy, they
were abundant and distinguished by independence ;
in the latter, every thing he did displayed a singular
combination of fervent zeal and sound judgement.

Mrs. Walker's married life became soon a life of
trial. She thought she had learned that it was to
be through much tribulation she was to enter into
the kingdom ; she now found that, to make it so, it
was to be continued tribulation. Long protracted
sickness, with its weary and dark approaches,
*' darker every hour," began to undermine her
family ; and at last, death came to ravage it. Her
eldest son, a fine boy, was taken with a very painful,
tedious illness, which terminated in his death.
Some of her other children w^ere weakly ; her own
health suffered ; and her husband began to decline.
His disease became rapid. After his death, she
was for some years threatened with the loss of a
daughter; and when the latter recovered, another
daughter was laid on a lingering sick-bed, from
which she never rose ; so lingering, that this afflicted
parent long continued to hope for a recovery, but
she was at last called to close her youngest child's
eyes. But, in all these deaths, she had the happiness
of v/itnessing the departure of the redeemed of the
Lord. Severe and continued were her exercises of
mind, but, upon the whole, happy was the issue.
This will appear from part of the following extracts
from her private papers; — papers which, it is need-
less to say, were never intended to be published,
but which seem too valuable to be entirely lost.

'' August 19, 1763. My birth-day. The Lord,
in his kindness and long-suffering, has brought me
thus far on in life. I have seen a good many years
go round on this transitory, changing stage. Many
things have passed over my head, that I thank God
are never, never to return. Many trials have I expe-

MRS. WALKER. 347

rienced ; thanks to God I did experience them, and
that none of them overwhelmed me, nor made me
turn back from God's way; but, on the contrary,
have endeared it to me, and made me run faster in
it. And when my heart has been ready to sink, he
has led me to the Rock that is higher than I, so that
I may set up my Ebenezer, and say, ' Hitherto the
Lord has helped me/ Would to God, these past
years had been spent more to his glory, and less to
selfishness ! I know not what may be between me
and the grave ; but shall I not believe that thou.
Lord, wilt be w^ith me? O leave me not in this
valley of tears to struggle by myself! 1 cannot go
one step without thee ; 1 cannot forego thy direction !
Oh no, my Lord, thy absence is dreadful I How
distressing is it when thy presence is not felt sensibly,
when yet the poor soul would fain hope thou art not
so far away as it apprehends ! But really to know
thee absent, is death ! I cannot bear it, Lord. O
come then now, and lead me and guide me through
this frail life, and through the vale of the shadow of
death ! Whether it be dark or light, if thou art
with me, thy rod and thy staff comforting me, I
shall be safely landed where thou art, from whence
I shall go no more out, nor fear a veil betwixt thy
blessed face and mine. And now, at this present
time, let mine head be lifted up above my enemies
that encompass me, that I may bring sacrifices of
joy and thanksgiving unto thy house.

** 1765. I look upon it as my duty in some mea-
sure, to be in company. I do not like to hear it
said, that religion is monkish ; but I ought always
to carry it with me, and glory in it as my highest
honour to be taken for a Christian ; yea, though I
should be reckoned a fool for Christ's sake. The
temptation to a contrary conduct, I take to be one
great snare of company.

'' 1766. The Lord has called me to change my
situation in life, by marrying an eminent servant of

348 MEMOIRS OF

God. May the Lord bless him to me ! May we
live together as heirs of the grace of life, and may I
be no hindrance to one, that used to run fast in the
way of God's commandments !"

How conscientiously she endeavoured to follow out
her prayers in her conduct, appears from the following
rules she laid down for the regulation of her devotional
exercises and of her time. " Oh Lord God, I desire
thy presence and aid, that I may regulate my heart
and life according to thy word ! I have a desire to
be formed in a gospel mould. I find I am subject
to indolence, to wandering in spiritual duties, to
frivolousness and insensibiHty. To fix my first
thoughts in the morning upon the presence of God,
would be an antidote against these. Sabbath morn-
ing to be employed in meditating upon the power
and patience of God in creating and preserving all,
but chiefly in redeeming us who are called to par-
take his salvation by Jesus Christ. Redemption,
then, and all its consequences, be my companion
every Sabbath morning ; rejoicing in it in general,
applying it to myself in particular, and hearing of it
all day. — Monday morning. The Church of Christ
to be thought of chiefly, with prayer, confession,
petition, and thanksgiving for myself as a member
of the church, and then for the whole body of
believers ; for their increase, and for the accom-
plishment of the promises. — Tuesday. Particular
friends and their cases to be laid before the Lord,
whatever presses my mind or theirs, whether a spiri-
tual or a temporal matter. — Wednesday. My hus-
band, children, and servants, all their concerns. —
Thursday. Set apart as much time as possible
for personal examination, humiliation, confession,
prayer, and fasting. — Friday. Entreat the Holy
Spirit of God to lead and guide me, and all his
people, into all'truth; to bless his ministers and
their labours. — Saturday. Return thanks for the
mercies of the week.

MRS. WALKER. 349

'* Continue to rise early; retire immediately; read
the Scriptures with meditation, prayer, praise.

*' Attend to family duties ; be moderate in order-
ing and using all things, that I may have to give to
him that needeth. Make profitable visits ; no idle
ones, if possible. How ought a Christian to spend
time ? Surely as he wishes to spend eternity, to
the glory of God. When in company, take every
occasion to bring in some serious, useful, seasonable
word : be not afraid of men ; nor be frothy and
trivial, lest I turn into ridicule what I mean to
recommend, even true religion. Let it not tend to
disputation, which often I have found barren of
good, and hurtful to the interests of godliness ; and
let it not be to set up myself, or recommend my
opinions ; but meekly, without being discouraged
by opposition, to ' hold forth the word of life,' to
the gaining of others, and the glorifying the Lord's
word and way. O how bitter the reflection of a
contrary conduct ! Conclude the day with prayer,
and self-recollection — make conscience of thoughts,
words, and actions, as before my God — walk in
charity, love, zeal, and activity, for God and men.
Amen.

" December 4, 1773. I have often purposed to
use every mean in my power for growth in grace,
for more near, intimate, and sensible communion
with God, and more usefulness to men. For this
end, I wish to redeem time, to wait on the Lord
more in private prayer and meditation ; realizing his
presence, trying every thing before him, that he
may approve or reprove, laying hold on Christ in
the promises afresh, believing my own interest in
them. — Another mean is, studying his word, follow-
ing the light of it directly every day, and all the
day ; getting the flesh more mortified, by not being
so sluggish and indulgent to it. I wish to be more
diligent in business, active in family matters, more
dutiful and affectionate toward my dear husband

350 MEMOIRS OF

and children, more attentive and kind to servants,
more loving and useful to all the saints, and more
anxious for the souls of others; trying to gain,
instruct, and awaken them ; above all, praying con-
tinually about these things. Help me, my God !

'' September 26, 1774. It pleased God to bring
to our house a dear faithful servant of his own, an
English minister*, who was to preach frequently
here. I was happy, thinking this would quicken
and revive me ; but it pleased my Lord to lay me on
a sick bed. I adore and bless his hand; he sent
both outward trial and inward correction : then I
said, O take me not away in anger! and he com-
forted me from his word, Ezek. xxxvi. ^ From all
thine idols will I cleanse thee, a new heart will I
give thee,' &g. I said, * Behold the handmaid of
the Lord, be it unto me as thou hast said !' I re-
marked, at this time, the kindness of God to bring
his servant to my house. 1 would not have chosen
sickness while he was with me, but the Lord saw it
the right way for me, and even for my experiencing
the usefulness of my guest, who led me to many
refreshing views of these promises : ^ I have chosen
thee in the furnace of affliction.' ' He shall sit as a
refiner of silver,' 8cc.

" 1775. It has pleased God to send of late a
severe trial, the sickness of our dear eldest son.
This has much engaged my thoughts, accompanied
with many plans for his health. All means have
failed, and we have been called to look upon him as
a dying child. Mr. W. v. as first led to take this
view of him ; and I, when I found it so, was sur-
prised, overwhelmed, and ready to sink. A dread
of God, a horror at his dispensations, seized me.
This led me first earnestly to seek the child's life, if
the Lord would spare, I would not so abuse mercy ;
particularly to plead his being dedicated to the

* Mr. Edwards, of Leeds.

I

MRS. WALKER. 351

service of God, which had long been my highest
wish for him in this world. I felt great want of
submission, and a fear lest he would die. I was,
through mercy, at length led to view with delight
the government of Christ, as Lord over all ; and to
consider his will as not only sovereign, but good : —
here then I found rest. Seeing him at one time
very bad, I resolved to go and put him into the
Lord's hands, and give up seeking temporal life,
having better things to ask."

On the 29th of October, 1775, the anniversary of
her marriage, Mrs. W. was called to part with this
child, who was the first fruit of it, and was an
uncommonly pious and promising boy. After his
death, she writes as follows : '* The impression this
dear child's death made on my mind, is not easily
expressed. I had judged that the Lord might have
some use for him in the world. With this view,
I had often imitated Hannah, wishing to devote him
to the service of God in the ministry. I called it a
taking him off my hand; but ah! how far was I
from thinking of his dying. Yet, after all, I was
astonished how well both his father and I stood the
near approach of his death, and how patiently the
reality of it w^as submitted to; though our hearts
were bound up in him exceedingly, and he answered
our most sanguine hopes. We watched him durina:
his last hours in peaceful serenity ; and when the
soul fled, we sung over the dear clay his favourite
23d Psalm.

" I could not have believed we could have parted
with our darling, our beloved child so easily ; but
we knew who called him from us, and whither he
was gone. Oh how surprised and transported must
his soul have been ! While we were singing, and
lisping like children, he was a man in Christ,
enjoyed the unfolding of the mysteries which hael
engaged and perplexed, but had been wonderfully
made out to his young mind here, and saw and knew

352 jViemoirs of

the glory and perfection of Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost ! Blessed, ever blessed be God for this child,
for his talents, engaging disposition, warm aifection,
and spiritual attainments ; for his being enabled to
speak about religion as he did, and for his easy
death ! God has thus answered all our expectations
and prayers, to my satisfaction, silencing my un-
behef. Praise be to his name ! — When I adopted
the words of Hannah, I indeed did not mean bring-
ing him thus to the Lord ; but I can now rejoice at
having been taken at my word : he appears before
Him now, and there abides for ever.

'* February 2, 1780. I often and long sought the
sanctified use of that child's death visibly on myself,
and, I hope, in some measure my prayers were
answered. First, I learned not to draw hasty con-
clusions respecting what the Lord might intend in
temporal affairs, though he gives liberty to ask
about them. Nearness to Him is the answer of
prayer in all cases ; and views of his condescension
and power, experienced and realized by faith, form
genuine, solid, and comfortable communion with
God. He will not move in the channels we pre-
scribe, in what we guess at, and sometimes call im-
pressions from the word : His ways are wrapt up in
mystery, wisdom, and love, and cannot be traced
by any lines we can draw. Secondly, I learned to
sit lighter to outward comforts, to the lives of any,
especially of my other children, whom I saw to be
only loans ; stars that twinkle and then disappear ;
that I was fast hastening to eternity, and should not
spend my little inch of time mourning and looking
back, but rather be up and doing, praising the Lord
who condescends to take, as well as give.

" 1783. ' I have waited for thy salvation, O
God I' said Jacob, on reviewing past mercies, and
looking forward to future ones, for himself and his
family. What does life represent, but our folly,
sin, and short-coming, and God's power, love, and

MRS. WALKER. 353

care ! When T look back, I find I have endeavoured
after some duties, neglected others ; but have found
the constant love and favour of my God. There-
fore, I say w^ith confidence, * I have waited for his
salvation,' and do wait. Through many a maze the
Lord has led and guided me ; and not one good
thing on his part has failed me of all the promises.
Though 1 dread there has been much neglect in
observing his doings, much feebleness in laying
hold of his power, yet, the Lord has manifested his
kindness in bearing with such a trifler, in carrying
away iniquity, and casting it into the depths of the
sea of his love ; in meeting me, and giving his pre-
sence in ordinances, frequently making himself
known to me in the breaking of bread. ' Lo ! this is
our God, we have waited for him ; He will save us.'

" 1784. It has been a long dark night with me,
through temptation and desertion ; such exercises
as are recorded in Psalm xlii. : * All thy waves and
billows are gone over me,' &c. 1 would now say, it
is day : these clouds have broken, and 1 have seen
the Lord in his promises. I have said. He hath
commanded his lovinp:-kindness, commanded it in
temporal deliverances, and in spiritual blessings.
He hath holden my soul in life, amidst many threat-
ened deaths to it; sometimes the enemy chasing me
sore, as a bird that hops from bush to bush, while
perplexity and weakness keep it in a flutter. Through
the blessing of God on his word and ordinances, I
was, and am delivered.

" 1786. Dear Mr. W. and I began this year, as
usual, in recounting mercies, in confessing sins, and
in self-dedication. He was uncommonly spiritual.
In February, he caught a cold : I saw him failing,
which was often afflictino; to me. On the 22d, he
attended the communion in a neighbouring church
with much composed seriousness of mind. On the
next day, Monday, though worse, he went again to
church : I asked why ? He said, it was a day he

354 , MEMOIRS OF

always kept*; that he had been happy at the Lord's
table, and had enjoyed more liberty in spiritual
exercises than for some years past. His complaints
increasing every day, he gave at last some hints
about dissolution. Yet, we were both distressed
with a delicacy in not speaking plainly to each
other; — but we had freedom and access to God,
who only could help, and were much comforted by
the visits of many clergymen.

" On Saturday the llth of March, he did some
business. After finishing it, he said with energy,

* The world recedes, it disappears ; heaven opens on
my eyes.' He spent a restless, but a praying night,
which ushered in Sabbath, the last day of his natural
life : he made me read the Scriptures, his constant
study, and pray for an increase of faith, and for the
cleansing of the blood of sprinkling. In the evening,
the Rev. Dr. Erskine, his attached and prized friend,
and from the time of his sickness his constant visitant,
spoke to him of death as a privilege, and in prayer
used these words: ' O death, where is thy sting?'
On which, his countenance became animated, and,
with his eyes and hands lifted up to heaven, he ex-
claimed, * Glory to God for ever. Amen.' When
Dr. E. finished, he held out his hand to him, saying,

* God bless you, sir.' They took leave of each other.
During the night he looked to me, and said feebly,
' You see my situation, — but I cannot speak ; ' then
with affectionate energy, thrice he repeated, ' Fare-
well.' My heart returned it, but I could not answer
with my lips. Soon after, he fell low. 1 then, with
fear and strong desire, cried earnestly to my God,
to send an easy release and transition from this
world ; saying often, ' Into thy hands I commit this
spirit :' — perhaps he joined me. About six o'clock

* In remembrance of having suffered shipwreck at a very early
period of life, coming with a cargo of his own from Spain, in the
year 1731.

MRS. WALKER. 355

in the morning, in the presence of all his family, he
calmly drew his long last breath. Thus died this
eminent servant of God. He was a useful, active
citizen, a zealous member of the Church of Scotland.
Few have given a greater proof of diligence and
fervour in seeking by every means the good of Zion.
He devoted his substance and influence to the Giver
of all good. He often took a share in civil matters,
that he might be able to bring good evangelical
pastors to the churches of this city : not one seemed
brou2:ht without his influence for a Ions; tract of
twenty years and upwards. His memory is dear to
his friends, and will remain so in a church which
now misses his active spirit. — Lord, raise up
others !

*' August 1786. Since my husband's death, I
could write little. At this event I fell down, and
was under sore distress, for a load of guilt and weak-
ness seized me. I had sore assaults from the enemy.
After a tossing night, I rose early, went to my dear
husband's room where he lay, shut myself up an
hour; took my Bible, turned to Psalm xxxii. I
read, I laid hold, I prayed it over. I got full deli-
verance in verse 6 : * Surely in the floods of great
waters, they shall not come nigh unto thee ;' and
gave glory. Thus the Lord suffered me to call upon
him with strong crying and tears, and answered me
as he did the Son of his love, and I was delivered
from the paw of the great lion, and was heard in
what I dreaded. This I insert to the praise and
glory of the Captain of salvation. The following
Sabbath, being our Communion Sabbath, I wished
to go, but feared I should not be able. In the
ijaorning, however, I felt strengthened by these con-
siderations ; that the Lord was risen, my dear was
gone to him ; 1 had buried the body in faith and
assurance of a blessed resurrection ; I therefore
would go to the Lord's house, and relieve myself by
telling him, as the disciples did in the case of John,

356 MEMOIRS OF

1 went to the Lord's table in his strength, and found
the sweets of his promises, * I will be with thee,
and with thy children, — thy Maker is thy husband,
the God of the whole earth shall he be called.'"

*' I have truly endured a great conflict- —

through trials from man. I pray daily for the under-
standing of their language, for the sanctification of
them, for a true spirit to overcome them, and for
opportunity to testify such a mind — endeavouring
to follow the example of my Lord, rendering nothing
but blessing, knowing that hereunto I am called, to
inherit blessing."

*' How little we know our hearts! How long

and slow in trusting the Lord with all our concerns
in this state, through which we pass as a shadow !
Every new trial brings new difliculties, new fears,
new errors, new guilt. I have been looking too
anxiously for deliverance, but begin to learn, that
* support under trials is continual deliverance.'"

" June 1792. For some time heavy clouds hung
over this island. God has in a measure dissipated
thenv We were threatened with civil broils ; he
has averted these, and turned the wheel of his Pro-
vidence over those who fomented them. This looked
to me a condescending care over this land. Oh,
that men would praise the Lord ! The threatening-
aspect of foreign commotions, the revolution in
France, the dreadful judgements of God there, and
the Scripture prophecies concerning the last days,
have much engrossed my thoughts. Whatever be
the issue, I desire to join the church universal in
praising God for the accomplishment of his word.
I have had a confidence in his name, that this Island
would be preserved from the general devastation ;
only be punished for her own crimes, particularly
Sabbath-breaking, and contempt of the Gospel ;
that he would humble and chastise her, as he has
done, and is still doing. May we bear the rod, and
him who appoints it, lest the sword come to con-

MRS. WALKER. 357

demn it as a dry tree, that produceth no fruits of
genuine repentance."

'* 1794. The storm of war still rolls along. The
history of no times seems to record such strange
events. Multitudes, multitudes, are hurried into
eternity. At home, too, there are alarming appear-
ances. A general spirit of disaffection prevails to
our good and salutary government ; the low^er classes,
dissatisfied, would usurp the dignity of being highest.
But I must not too deeply engage in these matters,
lest I forget my own duties of watchfulness and of
submission to the hand which corrects me, in the
continued illness of my youngest daughter, who is
still kept in the furnace, yet, like burnished gold,
is only melted and refined, not destroyed. I desire
to be taught to wait upon God, and keep his way,
to watch in all things, not prescribing nor choosing^,
but following on to know the Lord, and he will
direct my paths ; — he will lead me both into tem-
poral and spiritual light and strength ; yea, he shall
guide continually, so will I abound in praises. Psalm
Ixxi. 14."

Not to swell these papers, her reflections upon
this trial, similar in its painful nature to her former
trials, are abridged.

'* 1797. A pubhc fast: the church is called
every where to prayer, to lift up her voice with
strength, to wrestle with her God that he may esta-
blish and make her a praise in the earth. Come
then, O my soul ! be stirred up, and endeavour to
stir up others : be earnest, be watchful, be diligent,
be faithful. Seek out the promises, observe the
purposes of God. Take great care not to err in
judgement, not to run before the opinions of Provi-
dence ; and see that thou be not behind, lest thou
shouldest not observe when good cometh. Be not
soon taken w ith first appearances as they are affected
by fellow-creatures. See also, that thou be not
offended at any means the Lord uses. Amidst much

358 MEMOIRS OF

cause of fear, a dawn of hope arises. Missionary
societies have been formed in London and Edin-
burgh .- these have been an example to others in the
kingdom. This looks well for Britain."

** 1800. On the 25th of February, my dear
daughter departed this life, in the assured hope of
eternal life. I felt thus: — the dear prisoner was
released from sorrows ; I realized her enlargement
with consolation, and longed to follow her who
should have been behind me. 1 felt as bereft of my
place. Oh to be made more meet for the inheritance
of the saints in light ! I want to be stirred up to
live more to the Lord in heart, in speech, and in con-
duct. I need increasing faith and love to the Lord,
his people, and his cause on earth, and more active
zeal. Lord, bestow what thou requirest !

^' May 9. To-day I again sat down under my
Lord's shadow : how sweet unto my taste were his
words of truth ; yea, sweeter than I can utter ! I
was enabled to believe for life and for death, that
this God was mine ; — that, as sure as I did eat
this bread, and drink this cup, so sure was Christ,
with all the blessings of the covenant, mine, in life,
and in death ; and so surely shall I see the Lord
in glory."

*' 1802. After a severe illness, I was able, the 11th
of September, to attend the communion. In this
ordinance I felt indeed the text exemplified to me
and many : * O how great is thy goodness which
thou hast laid up for them that fear thee, which
thou hast wrought for them that trust in thee before
the sons of men!" Psalm xxxi. 19. I blessed God
also in his house for the success of the Gospel at
home and abroad. Many are sending out, and the
knowledge of Christ is disseminating in many dark
corners of the globe. The Lord increase these !
Amen."

These were the last words Mrs. Walker wrote in
her Diary. Upon Wednesday, October 13, 1802,

MRS. WALKER. 359

she was seized with the return of a disorder which, a
few months before, had nearly put a period to her
life.

It had often been her prayer, that she might not,
in her dying moments, dishonour the faith she pro-
fessed ; and the Lord was pleased abundantly to
fulfil her request. Alarming symptoms increasing on
the Thursday, she said to one of the family, " My
dear, this looks serious ; but I am quite satisfied as
to the event. I have nothing to do : my work is
finished. I have no fears, I know in whom I have
believed, and that he is able to keep that which I
have committed to him against that day." During
the night, while suffering severely from violent
vomitings, she often repeated, *' My soul, wait thou
with patience upon God ; my expectation cometh
from him. Trust in him at all times, ye people ;
pour ye out your hearts before him. It is only in
broken petitions I can do so at present."

During Friday and Saturday she took a more
decided view of approaching dissolution, and calmly
spoke to one of her family of some things to be done
after that event, adding, *' These words have been
much upon my mind, * I die, but God shall be with
you.' '^ She expressed a wish that a clergyman (to
whom she had lately complained of depression) might
be informed that she had got the victory ; that she
died in the faith ; died rejoicing in that faith she
had professed : " Yea, tell all the ministers and
lovers of Jesus, for their encouragement, that he
hath not forsaken me ; that I find the faith of the
Gospel is fully able to support me in this hour of
trial. I am conqueror, and more than conqueror."
In the night, while one was praying by her bed-side
for some relief from intense agony, she called out,
'« Say, Not my will, but thine be done." The
twenty- third Psalm being then read to her, beginning
at the fourth verse, she particularly laid hold of that
verse ; ^' Yea, though I walk through the valley of

360 MEMOIRS OF

the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with
me ; thy rod and thy staff comfort me." Very
frequently afterwards she repeated, ** I fear no evil."
No pen can do justice to the contrast that was
exhibited through the whole of Lord's-day, between
excruciating agonies, and the triumph of faith. She
often said, " I have fellowship with martyrs ;" and
looking with tenderness on her family around her,
exclaimed, " O may none of you, in dying, suffer
what I now do ! Oh, dissolution ! dissolution ! how
difficult to endure ! It is not easy to separate soul
and body; but it is all I have to suffer. It is not
the worm that dieth not, nor the^re that cannot be
quenched. These light afflictions, which are but for
a moment, shall work out for me an eternal weight
of glory — for me ! for me ! unworthy though I am,
an eternal weight of glory for me !" One saying,
*' This is Sabbath, the day you have always loved :"
'' Yes," she said, '' I have found Sabbaths and
ordinances here sweet ; but an eternal Sabbath, that
is the thing ! Ever with the Lord ! ever, ever with the
Lord!" These words were much in her mouth.
She exhorted all who came near her, some to seek
the knowledge of salvation, as the one thing needful ;
others to continue stedfast unto the end. *' Oh,"
said she, ^* the importance of circumspection and
consistency ! of keeping the garments clean ; that,
when death comes, there may be nothing to do but
to die !" To a young friend she said : '' I will leave
this Scripture with you, my dear, ' Being justified by
faith, we have peace with God, through our Lord
Jesus Christ.' It is that peace which supports me
in this severe suffering. Suffering here is no sign of
God's displeasure ; and soon shall sorrow be turned
into joy ; and pains, and groans, and griefs, and
fears, and death itself shall die." Afterwards she
said ; *' I die with a conscience void of offence
toward God and toward men. The wicked is driven
away in his wickedness, but the righteous hath hope

MRS. WALKER. 361

in his death ;" and again emphatically, " hath hope
in his death. — Mark the perfect, and behold the
upright ! for their latter end is peace. — Not," added
she, *'that I am perfect: but Jesus is, and I am
complete in him.'' Observing some of her family
looking earnestly at her, she asked, " Is there any
thing frightful about me? Bring me my dressing-
glass." Upon her request being evaded, she said,
** Yes, do bring it me ; I wish to see if there is any
thing unpleasant about me, and if I have yet much
to suffer." Upon looking at herself, she said, '^ Well,
I am happy, for your sakes, to see I am not
ghastly ; but I have much to endure. The traces of
death are not yet strong enough ; but I have nothing
to fear. Though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I fear no evil — it is no substance,
only a shadow ; thy rod and thy staff comfort me.
Death, do thine office ; thy sting is taken out. Sin
is the sting of death. I shall see the Lord ; I shall
be for ever with the Lord. I cannot dwell with
devils ; I have nothing in common with them ; I can
have no fellowship with devils."

She desired the beginning of the fourteenth of
John to be read to her, ** Let not your heart be
troubled, in my Father's house are many mansions."
She frequently repeated the Lord's words, " Peace
I leave with you ; my peace I give unto yOu." *' It
is the Lord's peace," said she. '^ Often has he
given me this peace in life, and now in death. Tell
every body, I die in peace with God, and in peace
with all men." In the most impressive manner she
blessed her family; and desiring to see her two infant
grand-children, kissed them, and prayed that her God
in covenant might be their God. ** My dears," said
she to their parents and her own two daughters, *' I
can part with you all ; I can part with all the world ;
with every thing but Jesus. Christ is my all in all.
Oh! let me meet you all at last, and so shall we
be ever, ever with the Lord !" To one who came in

VOL. II. R

362 MEMOIRS OF

she said, '' This is Jordan, but he shall not overflow
his banks. My Jesus meets me in the flood, and
will bring me safely through. This is the trial of faith,
but it will stand the trial ; I shall come forth as
refined gold. I am the happiest of women ! Such
promises ! such prospects ! such a God ! Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost, one God, my God, I adore
thee !" Her pain (from inflammation of the bowels)
still increasing, she often prayed, " Lord Jesus, dis-
miss my spirit! My dear friends, do not retard me
with your prayers ; give me up. But oh ! my Lord,
give me patience, give me patience now, now ! ' He
that shall come, will come'— my dear Betsey's dying
words. Why should I not suffer ? ' A hope so much
divine, may trials well endure.' ' Oh, the pain, the
bliss of dying !' " During the night, she exclaimed
suddenly, " Can I have mistaken my Lord ? The
enemy throws his darts at me ; he tempts me to
distrust. But no," said she, recovering herself, " he
is a chained enemy. I stand upon sure ground ; I
am founded on the Rock of ages." Through pain
and weakness, she was less able to speak on Monday,
vet, at intervals, expressed the same firm confidence ;
and, by broken sentences, her mjnd seemed to dwell
much on the sufferings and death of the Lord. A
clergyman praying that she might fear no evil in the
dark valley, she exclaimed, " None, I fear none !"
To another she used the same expressions ; adding,
*' Though it is a long valley ;" and then, '* Farewell!
we shall meet before the throne." About six o'clock on
Monday evening, she said to one of her family, '* My
conflict is over ; 1 think it is near now ;" and then,
with great emphasis, " My God ! my portion !" The
sixty-sixth hymn of Rippon's collection being read,
she particularly noticed, and adopted the fourth verse :

He by himself hath sworn;

I on his oath depend :
I shall, on eagles' wings upborne,

To heaven ascend.

MRS. WALKER. 363

I shall behold his face;

I shall his power adore;
And sing the wonders of his grace

For evermore !

Soon after this, she fell low, and lay for five or six
hours, seemingly breathing her last ; after which,
suddenly opening her eyes, she distinctly said,
*' No fears ! no darkness !" These were her last
words : she again sunk into insensibility, and at
twelve o'clock on Tuesday, she fell asleep, Oct.
19, 1802, aged sixty-five.

In contemplating a religious character, it is pleas-
ing to observe the effect which the knowledge of the
Gospel produces upon those amiable qualities which
are merely natural. That such qualities in man
towards man have survived his fall from his Maker,
is evident. And though the wrongs which fill the
earth, prove what every heart contains, and what
the habits of sin can render any human being
capable of; yet, there are not only restraints, but
counterparts also, by which God has made gracious
and wise provision for carrying on society. And.
they who fear him, have a mixture of pleasing and
melancholv exercise in beins; thankful for this state
of things, and sighing at the same time over those
around them, particularly over their friends often,
when they see, in the same breast, benevolent and
engaging tempers foully associated with ignorance
of, and rebellion against, the Giver of all good. Of
such an association it may truly be said, that from
the beginning it was not so. And now, when a
heart is again turned to God, those amiable dis-
positions which were implanted by him, and have
remained the fragments and witnesses of his image,
shew symptoms harmonizing with the change ; they
manifest an acknowledgment of him which marks
their Divine origin ; they seem restored to their true
place ; and, in his service, they receive a motive,

R 2

364 MEMOIRS OF

direction, and lustre, unknown to them before.
Zealous in conferring present good, comparatively
fervent in promoting eternal good, unmoved by
opposition, unambitious of fame, they appear an
emanation from the benevolence of him who is kind
to the unthankful, and fulfil their purposes with a
wisdom, independence, and strength, which evince
as noble and important a distinction between their
former and their present nature, as that between
machinery and life. These remarks will, perhaps,
be forgiven, when illustrated by the character of the
amiable person whose history we have had under
our view.

Judging herself, she judged not others : denying

herself, she sought their good with a degree of

disinterestedness, such as was never learned but in

the school of grace. Her activity was equal to her

love, and often endangered her health. Yet, it was

without ostentation, and aimed at usefulness, not

distinction. These were humble virtues, but, at the

Saviour's feet, she had heard his words, and humility

to her was the summit of ambition. Her heart,

naturally affectionate, was rendered more so by the

influence of the Gospel, and her friends knew well

how dear to her was the temporal and eternal welfare

of each of them; how prompt and unwearied were

her services, how ready in exerting them in her own

privations. Indeed, the preferring others to herself,

from being a principle, seemed at last with her to

have become a habit. Disciplining her own mind

very constantly, exercised with severe trials, and

enabled to endure chastening as a filial privilege,

she attained to much of that subjection to the

Father of spirits, and that life arising out of it,

which are described as bringing forth the peaceable

fruits of righteousness. Her naturally social temper

has been already taken notice of. She was preserved

from its attendant snares; and was, at the same

time, a striking proof how great is the mistake, that

MRS. WALKER. 365

religion necessarily destroys cheerfulness. Her
cheerfulness not only remained with, but seemed
brightened and improved by her religion, and during
all her life was a distinguishing ornament of her
Christian profession. In a circle of friends, she was
in her element ; but was particularly so when it was
a religious circle ; and has often been heard to de-
clare, after such occasions, how much happiness she
had enjoyed in them. A character thus disinterested
and thus social, could not be without public spirit ;
and this disposition was not weakened by her con-
nexion with her public-spirited husband. But her
principles, like his, were very different from some
flimsy theories of recent times, which melting down
all connexions into one unmeaning mass of affected
and nominal brotherhood, would destroy all at-
tachments, and undermine all exertions. A Samari-
tan of this modern stamp, speculating upon general
woes, and dreaming about relieving them all, would
have neglected the sufferer before his eyes, and
followed the priest and the Levite upon the other
side. To the important question, *' How readest
thou ?" this disciple could answer in a different
manner. Next to her family and her friends, she
interested herself in those whom, in the sense of that
instructive parable, she found neighbours. For the
needy, the young, and the ignorant, her purse, her
exertions, her instructions, were ever ready. She
constantly regretted she could do so little, and took
a particular pleasure in bringing forward young
people to the notice of those who could advance
them. The interests of the Church of God were her
interests : she was unweariedly zealous to have
teachers sent to, and continued in, some parts of
Scotland in which she had spent former days, and
took a warm concern in the late missionary exer-
tions. Her mind was deeply impressed with public
affairs, as appears a little by some of the extracts
which have been given. Strong was her love for

366 MEMOIRS OF

her country : her daily prayers were offered up for
it, and for her *' dear king;" a phrase, of which she
got into a constant use, after the commencement of
the convulsions on the Continent. Although she
minded not high things, but condescended to all of
the lowest estate, she knew her own station, and was
no confounder of distinctions in society. She was a
member of the Church of Scotland from a choice
which was not merely the result of education, but of
study : difference of opinion, however, on some points,
was not able to stop her ardent flow of affection to
all who in every place called on the name of her
Lord and theirs. Her family conduct was most
animated and exemplary; never was there a more
loving mother; never a more dutiful wife; never a
more kind mistress. To chasten a child, in her early
married life, was also to weep with it: to chide a
servant, was to give also the most friendly advice,
followed afterwards by a petition for the offender in
her prayers. The charge she took of both the souls
and bodies of her domestics, was not only conscien-
tious and merciful, but affectionate: they felt toward
her as children : and where she now is, there are,
by the blessing of God, some who rejoice that they
were ever under her roof.

What was this person? She was a Christian. To
embalm such a character, is not to idolize it, but is
rather to point to that vvonder-working principle by
which a fallen creature loaded with failings and im-
perfections, and often mourning under sins, could be
advanced so many degrees towards the angelic
order. " The grace of God that bringeth salvation,"
is alone able to effect such miracles, — redeeming
from iniquity, and purifying unto himself a peculiar
people zealous of good works.

MRS. CAMPB.ELL. 367

MRS. CAMPBELL,

OF CLATHICK.

The lady who is the subject of the present imper-
fect sketch, was the only daughter of Lawrence
Colquhoun, Esq. of Killermont, a son of the ancient
family of Garscadden ; and of Mrs. Elizabeth Glamy,
only daughter of a respectable citizen of Glasgow.
She was born in the year 1736, and was educated by
her father, who was an episcopalian, in the tenets of
the Church of England. Before she attained the
age of nineteen, Miss Colquhoun became the wife of
John Campbell, Esq. of Clathick, Perthshire, and
late Lord Provost of Glasgow, to whom she bore
five children.

Mrs. Campbell was piously educated, and was
exemplary in early youth. Though brought up in
the episcopal persuasion, she became a member of
the Church of Scotland ; either because she found
the pure gospel preached by ministers of that com-
munion in her vicinity, or because her mature judge-
ment preferred the presbyterian form of worship and
mode of church-government. But she never allowed
herself in bigoted, iUiberal aspersions on dissenters
of any kind ; highly esteeming those who distin-
guished themselves by zeal for the gospel, and jus-
tified it by the circumspection and purity of their
deportment.

A spirit of genuine, evangelical, and vital piety,
animated and governed her whole conduct. This
constrained her to a regular, conscientious, and de-
vout attendance on the public ordinances of religion,
while her health in any degree permitted, and se-
cured a respectful attention to all its ministers of
her acquaintance, whom she knew to be worthy of
their sacred calling. It made her constant, punctual,

368 MEMOIRS OF

and exemplary in the stated devotional services of
the family ; disposed her gladly, and with eagerness,
to seize opportunities of private prayer with ministers
and others whom she esteemed, more particularly
during the time of her confinement and distress ; and
engaged her indissolubly, and with high degrees of
complacency and delight, to all the spiritual exer-
cises of the closet. It united her soul to all of every
denomination who appeared to bear the image of
Jesus Christ, in proportion to its visible fulness and
beauty. While inspiring lively sentiments of grati-
tude for the profusion of worldly enjoyments which
a benignant Providence placed all around her, it
effectually and for ever broke their enchantment,
purified her heart, and firmly settled all her affections
on the things that are above, as her treasure, por-
tion, and rest. Hence she was used to say, even in
the best days of health, with an air of genuine mor-
tification and heavenliness of mind, when any one
took notice of the rural charms of Killermont, her
beautiful paternal estate on the banks of Kelvin,
'' Yes; but what are all these things to us? They
cannot be, they are not our portion.*^ Hence, too,
she w^as eminently " ready to distribute, willing to
communicate" to every benevolent institution and
useful purpose; particularly to those of the poor,
whom, from her own observation or the testimony
of others, she believed to belong to the household
of faith.

It may be instructive and pleasant to speak of her
benevolence more fully. Her charities were not
confined to her own neighbourhood, or to any par-
ticular sect, but were extensive as her means ; and
when preference was given, it was to the religious
in distress. To the sick around her, she admi-
nistered consolation and relief, both temporal and
spiritual. If the aged were in sickness, her first care
was to see them furnished with clothes suited to
their situation ; and after their outward comforts

MRS. CAMPBELL.

369

"Were supplied, she forgot not the state of their souls.
Whatever books were necessary, she cheerfully gave ;
and where any appearances of a religious tendency
manifested themselves, they were nourished and
fostered by her care. Mrs. Campbell was not a
blind bestower of charities : when in health she
visited the objects of them. During the many years
in which she was confined to her chair, she was
always easy of access ; and she commonly examined
with her own eyes and hands, the necessaries which
she had ordered to be distributed to the poor on her
own estate, and in the neighbourhood. Stays, flannel
gowns, &c. as the season required, were regularly
made, under her direction, by the females of her family,
for the old and young who partook of her bounty.
She never failed to examine into the state of their
clothes and persons. The careful and cleanly she
rewarded and encouraged, and the negligent and
slovenly she admonished and reprimanded. But it
was not, as already observed, her poor neighbours or
tenantry alone, who partook of her bounty. The
proprietors of Killermont were w^ell known to be the
never-failing friends of the pious and virtuous in
distress; for her excellent husband went hand in
hand with her in her works of beneficence. The
applications from strangers in such circumstances,
were, of course, numerous, and were never made ni
vain.

Mrs. Campbell was a zealous friend to the propa-
gation of the Gospel. She encouraged it in these
kingdoms, by subscribing liberally towards the dis-
tribution of religious books, and especially of the
Holy Scriptures. Every thing, too, which could con-
tribute to the dissemination of religion in foreign
climes, met with her warmest support; and nothing
seemed to afford her inch sincere delight, as the
extension of those sacred truths which had supported
and consoled her in all the pains and agonies of thi*
mortal life.

R 5

370 MEMOIRS OF

In her disposition and manners, this excellent
lady was cheerful and amiable. She could adapt
her conversation to the highest and to the meanest
capacity ; and even those who did not feel the same
influences of the Divine Spirit, were often induced
by her strong reasoning powers, and by her winning
conduct, if they did not become proselytes to her
opinions, at least to become instrumental in pro-
moting the grand system of Divine truth and bene-
volence. Of this we may give the following instance.

To the establishment of a chapel in Perthshire, in
which the county of Clathick is situated, ]\Irs. Camp-
bell was a liberal contributor. To promote this
undertaking, she applied to a gentleman who did not
profess to entertain any principles of religion. The
application was made in writing, and she was heard
to observe when she gave the card out of her hand —
that she should leave the event to the Lord, and
that it would give her pleasure to think she had been
instrumental in making even a free-thinker subscribe
for the erection of a place where the gospel of Christ
was to be preached. The application was successful.
She expressed uncommon satisfaction at the circum-
stance ; and with a smile of benignity said, " Who
knows but at the hour of death he will look back
and express his happiness, that he did not refuse to
honour the name of Christ, when in his power?'*

It would be doing injustice to the character of her
lovely daughter, Mrs. Hosier, now deceased, not to
mention, that through her means Mrs. Campbell
became a large and regular contributor to the ease
and comfort of a worthy and respectable clergyman
of the Church of England. Mrs. Hosier happened
to visit this gentleman's church; she was pleased
with his doctrine, and equally so with the economy
of his family, which, though simple, and even ex-
hibiting marks of poverty, was neat and orderly.
She inquired into his situation, and learned that he
had a very narrow income. She communicated the

MRS. CAMPBELL. 371

circumstance to her father and mother ; and by their
benevolence, joined to that of some other branches
of their family, the latter days of the good clergy-
man's life rolled on in comparative ease. To the
same clergyman, she regularly sent at Christmas
several dozen of Bibles, to be distributed among his
poor hearers.

But nothing proves more convincingly the power
of religion on Mrs. Campbell, than her deep self-
denial and humility in a course of close walking with
God ; and her habitual serenity, tranquillity, and
cheerfulness, if not triumph, in near views of death,
continually and long presented to her mind ; though
she was sometimes assaulted by doubts and fears,
arising from enlarged views of the evil of sin, and a
penetrating sense of personal unworthiness, on the
one hand, and the remains of unbelief on the other.

By very violent rheumatic complaints she was
deprived of the use of her back, and of one of her
sides ; and for the last six years of her life she lost
the use of her limbs also. Under these afflictions,
however, her patience, her complacence, her happi-
ness in contemplating that of others, and, while she
herself was enduring bodily anguish, the delight
which she felt in relieving the wants and distresses
of her fellow-creatures, never abated. The little rest
which, during the severity of her trouble, she re-
ceived, was towards the hours of three or four in the
morning. Her posture, which even during the
moments of repose, v/as obliged to be almost erect,
was often attended with most excruciating pain.
Though she endured the greatest agony while the
servants placed her in her chair, which was visible in
violent perspiration on her face, she would, when
wheeled into her drawing-room to meet some young
friends who frequently called to see her, preserve
such serenity and cheerfulness, as gave her face the
appearance rather of an inhabitant of the other
world. In her desire to impress favourable notions

372 MEMOIRS or

of religion on her young friends, she forgot her own
sufferings ; and lest they should suppose that religion
produced in her the effects of moroseness, she pre-
served an aspect of calm serenity, which the power
of grace over her heart could alone communicate.
Her conduct, in this respect, was such as to command
the wonder and admiration of all. When asked,
why she endeavoured to preserve such composure,
and even cheerfulness, under such an accumulation
of bodily distress, especially in the presence of the
young ? she said, " That she thought the best way
in which she could recommend their Saviour to her
young friends, was to shew them that his religion
was not of a gloomy cast ; that experience of the
truth of it, and of the blessings which it held out,
was calculated to support us under the heaviest
earthly trials." When in the company of her
Christian acquaintance, such was the modesty and
diffidence of Mrs. Campbell, that she was more
frequently a silent hearer^ than an active partner in
the discourse.

Let it not, however, be supposed that Mrs. C.
was a silent Christian. She took daily opportunities
of recommending Christ to all about her, and, in the
tenor of her life, proved by her own conduct the
truths she spoke. She was not one of those talkers
about religion, who have Christ continually in their
mouths, but want him in their hearts ; but one who
preached him in her w^orks, and who shewed forth
the truth of his religion in every act of her life.
During one particular period of her disorder, she
was seldom heard to utter any thing but the follow-
ing lines :

*' Oh, for a heart to pray,
To pray and never cease ;
Never to murmur at thy stay,
Nor wish my sufferings less !"

With an unruffled meekness and profound sub-
mission, resigning herself to her all-wise Father, to

MRS. Campbell. 373

her compassionate Redeemer, " strengthened with
all might, according to his glorious power, unto all
patience and long-suffering, with joyfulness," she
possessed her soul to the last. As her departure
approached, she became more spiritual in her affec-
tions, and more detached from the world. At length,
though she had suffered long and severely, she was
liberated from her pains, without feeling the common
convulsions and struggles of dissolving nature. She
died at Killermont, near Glasgow, December 30,
1799, in the sixty-fourth year of her age.

Mrs. Campbell, of Clathick, may truly be said to
have been one of the brightest ornaments of her sex.
Very few in our age and country, especially of her
rank and fortune, have exhibited such a pattern of
excellence as she exhibited. Happy will it be for
us, if we " be followers of them who through faith
and patience inherit the promises ! These are they
who have come out of great tribulation, and have
washed their robes and made them white in the blood
of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne
of God, and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among
them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst
any more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor
any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of
the throne shall feed them ; and shall lead them to
living fountains of waters ; and God shall w^ipe away
all tears from their eyes !"

374 MEMOIRS OF

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM.

The subject of this Memoir was descended from a
respectable family in the west of Scotland. She
was the daughter of John Stewart Hawthorn, Esq.
of Phisgil, in Galloway, and was born on the 27th
Feb. 1743. From infancy, she was instructed in
the truths and obligations of religion ; and in early
life was brought under religious impressions, which
appear to have been gradually deepened and im-
proved, till she cordially yielded all her powers to
the governing influence of the truth. Her educa-
tion was conducted at home. The earliest papers
of her writing are dated in 1760 : they contain only
the subjects of the lectures and sermons which she
heard at church. Sometime after this, she began
to keep a common-place book, which is chiefly
occupied with remarkable facts and anecdotes, ex-
tracted from ecclesiastical historians. The first
part of her diary is dated in 1765 or 6; and the
manner in which it is written, furnishes abundant
evidence that before this period she had devoted
herself with earnestness to the cultivation of per-
sonal religion, and that she felt it to be of all things
the most important, to obtain evidence of an interest
in her Redeemer. In the close of the year 1766,
she came to Edinburgh, where she remained till
the autumn of the following year. During this
period, the one object of her pursuit appears to have
been, the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. She
sought after religious instruction with the earnest-
ness and constancy of a student devoted to the
acquisition of the knowledge necessary for his
chosen profession ; and resorted to the ordinances
of rehgion with the avidity of the votaries of pleasure
in the pursuit of fashionable amusements. During

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 375

her stay in Edinburgh, scarcely a day in the week
passed in which she did not attend the pubUc ordi-
nances of religion. Her papers at this period, con-
sisting chiefly of an account of the sermons she
heard, place the state of her mind in an interesting
light. They every where manifest a sacred venera-
tion for the word of God, a deep and often oppres-
sive sense of sin, an earnest longing for the conso-
lations of the Gospel, and a grateful admiration of
the love of God in Christ. It may be proper to
preface these, and the other extracts, with remark-
ing, that as the writer was not a literary character,
and had manifestly no expectation that her papers
would meet any other eye than her own, she ex-
presses herself in the simplest manner, and often
writes in a very unfinished and careless style. We
have, however, used no other freedom than that of
sometimes changing an obsolete for a more modern
expression, and occasionally transposing or insert-
ing a word or two, in order to improve the form of a
sentence. This liberty has been but seldom used,
and has never been suffered to affect, in the least
degree, the meaning or sentiments of the writer. —

- Wed. Dec. 17, 1766. Mr. Plenderleith preach-
ed from Rom. xv. 4. * Whatsoever things were
written aforetime, were written for our learning ;
that we, through patience and comfort of the Scrip-
tures, might have hope.' He earnestly exhorted us
to study the Scriptures, to be often comparincr one
passage with another, and to look up to God in
prayer to reveal his word to us. He spoke much of
the vanity of all other learning in comparison of the
learning to be found in the word of God. He
entreated young people to make a duty of reading
their Bibles : it could never be a detriment to any
of their other studies ; and nothing could equal the
comfort to be found in a well-spent life. Alas ! this
Went with pain to my heart, when I considered how
ill I had spent my youth. — He made a pretty remark.

376 MEMOIRS OF

namely, that poor people, who had no other learning
than what their Bibles gave them, would often be
able to explain a difficult part of holy writ in a
clearer way than those who had read much contro-
versy, and looked on themselves as men of learning.
It was nothing less than the Spirit of God that
taught them. — He observed, that when we read the
word of God, we ought to think what part of it
belongs to ourselves, and to consider it as God's
message to us. He said, there were three great
blessings to be drawn from the Scriptures; patience,

comfort, and hope. My glorious Lord God, I

bless thee for permitting me to hear thy servant this
night deliver thy message ; it was most edifying to
me, as every thing that comes from thee is. O
enable me to meditate on what I heard, and to put
it in practice ! Thou art worthy of all praise in
heaven and in earth, and I hope wilt permit the
most undeserving of thy creatures to join, ere long,
the innumerable company above, to praise Him who
is my soul's delight, * who was dead and is alive
again, and lives for evermore.'

'' Jan. 25, 1767. In the afternoon, Mr. Web-
ster preached, for the first time after the death of
his son, who had been drowned in Duddingston
Loch. The words of his text were, * It is the Lord ;
let him do what seemeth him good,' 1 Sam. iii. 18.
He had a most beautiful sermon on resignation to
the will of God. He said, that it was one of the
most reasonable and becoming duties ; but, at the
same time, exceeding difficult to attain. He ob-
served how easy it was to give in to God's will
when it agreed with our own ; but, on the contrary,
how difficult when it crossed what we thought for
our advantage. He said, that it had pleased God to
take his wife from him a short time ago ; and just
after that affliction, to take his son, a promising and
dutiful child, who had never given him occasion to
be angry with him ; but that the Lord had made the

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 377

words of his text comfortable and refreshing. He
thanked his dear friends who had sympathized with
hira in his distresses. Many, I suppose, had been

earnest with God on his behalf. When he made

mention of God's giving him comfort, I thought,
what a blessed thing it is to meet with our dear
Lord in affliction ! O to be afflicted, if it would
bring me nearer to thee, my God ! I should count
it my greatest happiness.

'* Lord's-day, April 26, 1767. Mr. Scott

preached the action sermon from 1 Cor. i. 23, 24.
I was obliged to stand almost all the forenoon
among the crowd in the area. This was a great
humiliation to me ; but I hope it was the means of
some good, for it made me reflect on the infinite
goodness of my God, that He who is ' King of kings,
and Lord of lords,' should regard such a poor de-
spised worm, whom none of my fellow-creatures
would vouchsafe a seat to. Yet, my God was pleased
to permit me to sit down at his table ; and not only
this, but I desire to trust in the blessed Jesus, that
I shall, ere long, sit down at that glorious table
above, which shall never be removed."

From many passages in her papers, it appears
that, during her stay in Edinburgh, while she lived
under a conviction that the salvation of her soul was
the one thing needful, her mind was often much
oppressed with a sense of her sinfulness, and with
disquieting apprehensions with respect to her state.
Her prayers are chiefly offered up for the gifts of
repentance and remission of sins ; and yet she
manifests a humility, a faith, a tenderness of desire
after the enjoyment of God, which were doubtless
the effects of Divine grace.

She appears to have left Edinburgh, and returned
to Galloway in the month of September. Here her
time was necessarily spent in a different manner,
yet perhaps not less profitably ; as, in the want of
public ordinances, she addressed herself with great

378 MEMOIRS OF

assiduity to the secret exercises of religion. From
this period, her diary assumes a different character.
It now relates chiefly to her personal experience, the
manner in which she passed her time, and the
various actino;s of her heart. The followino; extracts
from papers written between the years 1767 and
1776, (when she removed from the west of Scot-
jand,) will be read with pleasure by those who wish
to notice the simple expressions of pure and un-
affected piety. Though she enjoyed the benefit of
family worship in her father's house, it was her
custom, morning and evening, to read in secret two
chapters of the Bible, one in the Old Testament,
and another in the New. She usually writes an
abstract of their contents, and often adds observa-
tions. The first of the following extracts affords a
specimen of the manner in which she improved her
reading : most of the others relate to the exercises
of her soul.

'' Friday, 27th November, 1767.— Read the 2ist
chapter of 1 Chron. O my soul, how much matter
for meditation is there in this chapter! 1. Is it not
worthy of notice, that Joab forbade David to number
the people ? Though David was a good man, and
he a wicked man, yet, he was afraid to engage in
such an act of rebellion. No doubt, at that time,
David was under the hidings of God's face, and
Satan took the opportunity of tempting him, and
easily succeeded ; for, alas ! what are the best when
left, but for a moment, to themselves ! But the
king's word prevailed ; Joab's convictions soon wore
off, and he went out and numbered the people. Let
this be a warning to thee, my soul, to hearken to
the Spirit of God when he speaks by thy conscience ;
and let not either the threats or the smiles of thy
superiors make thee swerve from thy duty. How
much happier would it have been for Joab, had he
persisted in his first way of thinking, though it had
been at the expense of his life ! 2. Observe God's

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 379

condescension in sending the prophet Gad to give
David the choice of three judgements. Mightest
thou not have cut him off, and all Israel with him,
in a moment, without violating thy justice? But
thy mercy is great in the midst of deserved wrath.
Therefore, O my God ! am I not consumed. 3. Though
this child of God had been guilty of a great offence,
yet, since his God was pleased to spare him, and
put it in his choice to be punished, by the Lord or
by his fellow-creatures, he chooses to fall into the
hands of his tender-hearted God and Father. How
sensible was David, by this time, of his fault! O
God, enable me to be deeply humbled on account of
sin, and let the greatness of thy mercy lead me to
repentance. And may I be enabled to imitate thy
servant David, who did not choose to serve thee
with that which cost him nothing. As he insisted
on paying money for the place where he built the
altar, so may I be in earnest to part with my beloved
sins — self-love, pride, and all carnal indulgences.
Again, may I not observe the infinite mercy of God
to his servant David, in sparing him while he cut off
so many of the people ! In this very act, is not the
infinite wisdom of God, and his unsearchable way
of dealing, plainly shewn? Who can limit the
Almighty? Who can stay his hand, or say unto
him. What dost thou? When I consider the wick-
edness of my past life, have I not infinite reason to
bless and adore thee, that I am still the object of
thy sparing mercy? O that I may be enabled to
imitate thy servant in going to worship thee in the
place, way, and manner, that thou requirest ! Grant
me thy Holy Spirit to direct me so to do."

'* December 25. — It beingr Christmas, I endea-
voured to set the day apart for v/orshipping God,
and humbling myself before the majesty of heaven.
What unspeakable reason have I to love and fear
thee, my God and King, that thou hast spared my
life to another returnins; season of this kind ! This

380 MEMOIRS OF

is my one, my ceaseless prayer, * Only Jesus, only
Jesus, only Jesus, would 1 know ; and Jesus cruci-
fied/ In the strength of thee, my God, I desire
this night to be renewed in the spirit of my mind,
and to be wholly devoted to thee. O let my broken
vows be renewed, and be made strong and firm in
the Lord Jesus. Give me grace to be ever in a
holy, watchful frame, and to loathe those evils which
I have formerly practised. Accept of these two
mites that I humbly offer thee this night ; my poor
unworthy soul and body. I truly believe there is
nothing in me worthy of thy regard ; but, O dear
Lord ! as I am the workmanship of thy hands, do
thou create me anew in Christ Jesus, the high priest
of my profession, and my glorious atoning sacrifice.
Glorious Lord and King, grant that, before another
return of this blessed soul-refreshing season, I may
have a happy change wrought in my soul, and the
evidences of eternal life granted me. O that I may
have passed from death to life eternal and unchange-
able, and be partaker of those joys of which, at pre-
sent, I am ignorant ! Far be it from me to direct
thee, thou holy One of Israel ! Do with me what
seemeth thee meet ! Only let me be thine, and be
thou my God and portion for ever. While I live,
may it be to praise thee ! and when I die, may it be
to glorify and enjoy thee !"

" Friday, March 11, 1768— Glory to God, I have
a glorious high-priest, even Jesus, the Son of God ;
and I trust that he, out of his abundant fulness, will
supply all my wants, and perfect that which con-
cerneth me. O, dearest Lord Jesus, my dependence
is wholly on thee. Keep me through this day from
every thing that is evil ; and at its close, may I have
reason to bless thee, my God and Lord. Breathe,
thou Divine Spirit, upon my soul ; come, and do not
tarry. ' I pant to feel thy sway, and only thee
obey.' In the evening, I went and saw W. H., who
appears to be dying. I conversed with him a while,

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 381

and pressed upon him to plead with God in the
name of Christ, since it was only for his blessed
sake he would be accepted. I then prayed, and
found, I think, some liberty in praying for him."

'* Monday, April 4. — Saw the goodness of God
great towards me, in preventing me from falling
into temptations, that I was just going to yield to.
Thy mercy, my God, is infinite ; it is boundlessly
great !"

*' Tuesday. — This day, I felt more than ordinary
pain on account of sin ; I endeavoured to mourn
before the Lord, and found it a sweet exercise to
pour out my soul to the God of my salvation. I
met with different things, both in the conduct of the
servants and in that of others, to afflict me ; but I
hope, God meant it for his glory and my soul's
good."

" Friday, July 25. — This day, alas ! has been spent
in a very unworthy way. I have been sorely buf-
feted by Satan and my vile corruptions. Wander-
ing, carnal thoughts have prevailed exceedingly
against me. I bless God, I met with no interrup-
tions in duty from the world, for I rose between five
and six ; and after having committed myself to God,
I went to the sea-shore, where I staid all day till
night. My privileges are high : Lord, enable me to
improve them to thy glory. Praise and glory be to
thee, that I am still the object of thy sparing mercy,
and am not consumed in the midst of my wicked-
ness. Get thyself glory in converting my soul.
Friend of sinners, let me find my help, my all, in
thee. Let the exercises of this day redound to thy
glory, and bring forth fruit acceptable to thee.
Destroy selfishness and pride, and every evil that
thou knowest to prevail against me. Mortify all
my vile affections, for thy blessed Son's sake.
This day, I had much to remark of the Lord's
wonderful way of dealing with me,"

382 MEMOIRS OF

" Friday, January 20, 1769. — Rose about six,
and endeavoured to spend the morning to God in
private. I then went about duty with my sisters.
I afterwards went about some temporal duties, and
then retired to read and pray. This day I desire to
devote wholly to God, and do nothing in temporal
duties but works of necessity and mercy. O that
thy presence. Lord God, may be with me, and that
I may get a proof of thy love this day, such as I
never yet have had ! Be a present God, for Christ's
sake, both in public and private ; and let my wants
be all supplied out of thine infinite fulness. Thou
art my portion, O Lord ! I have said that I would
keep thy words. O pardon broken vows and reso-
lutions, and be a present help in time of need. —
This day being over, I have reason to bless the Lord
for the opportunity. I endeavoured to give myself
away to God by a personal written covenant ; which
1 desire to hope will be for God's glory, as it is
wholly on the dear Lord Jesus I rely, and in his
strength I desire to trust. At night, 1 felt not that
Christian frame I could have wished, and gave too
much way to trifling discourse, which I found fault
with myself for."

" Wednesday, February 22. — [After noticing the
manner in which this day was spent.] — At night,
had a long argument with my sisters concerning past
actions of folly ; which discourse, I hope, was not
offensive to God, as I was endeavouring to expose
vice, and lay some duties before them. O my God,
while I speak to others, may thy Holy Spirit breathe
upon my poor dead soul, and quicken me, that I
may live to glorify thee I"

'* Tuesday, March 7. — [After mentioning the good
news of one of her brothers' having got the situation
he wished for,] — '' O my God, bless my brothers ;
and be ever praised for all the goodness thou hast
made to pass before them ! Remember thy unworthy

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 383

creature that is before thee. Save me from all low-
thoughted care, and plant thy love and fear in my
heart. After hearing this good news, I endeavoured
to go about duty; and desired with God's assisting
grace, to set the ensuing day apart for thanksgiving,
and also to mourn before God on account of ray
sins."

What a contrast does such a life of watchfulness
and prayer as is exemplified in the preceding extracts,
form to the life of many young ladies in afiluent
circumstances, whose time and thoughts are inces-
santly employed in acquiring trifling accomplish-
ments, and in pursuing and anticipating scenes of
vain amusement ; whose domestic hours are wasted
in unprofitable conversation and pernicious reading,
and whose busiest occupations are still subservient
to the gratification of vanity and the love of show !
But if there be a God who demands our supreme
love, and an eternity which claims our constant
regard, who can hesitate in deciding which manner
of life is most consistent with our obligations, and
most subservient to the great ends of our existence ?
May we not further ask, whether the example pre-
sented in these extracts does not afford a serious
admonition to many young persons who lay claim to
a religious character, yet satisfy themselves with a
merely occasional and desultory attention to de-
votional exercises, or, at best, with very ambiguous
evidences of an interest in Christ? Compare their
listless indolence, their formal services, their easy
self-complacency, with the earnestness, diligence,
and self-diffidence displayed in the above extracts ;
is it not at once evident which character best agrees
with such precepts as these ? — ^* Strive to enter in at
the strait gate." " Pass the time of your sojourning
here in fear." *' Work out your own salvation with
fear and trembling."

Among the means employed by Miss Stewart for
strengthening the principles of ifaith and holiness,

384 MEMOIRS OF

and obtaining the consolations of religion, none is
more remarkable than her habit of frequently setting
apart days for fasting and prayer. Very rarely did
a week pass in which she did not observe a day of
this kind ; and often, as appears from her papers,
one day was not enough to satisfy the feelings and
desires of her mind. To place this part of her cha-
racter in a just light, it is to be observed, that she did
not lead the life of a recluse : she lived in the midst
of a large family, and had frequently the entire
charge, for weeks together, of managing its concerns
and providing for its wants. Yet, not content with
securing a considerable portion of time every morn-
ing for reading and prayer, she arranged matters so
as to have frequently a day at command, to be almost
entirely employed in devotional exercises. On these
days, without neglecting necessary business, she
avoided, as much as possible, all mixed society ;
either remaining in her chamber, or retiring to some
unfrequented spot, (often, in summer, to a cove on
the sea-shore,) and spending the hours in reading,
meditation, self-examination, and prayer. This habit
of frequent retirement could not be concealed from
those around her, and did not fail to expose her to
occasional ridicule, and sometimes to serious re-
monstrance, from her less religious friends ; but the
power of conscience, and the love of communion
with God, did not suffer her to desist from it ; and
her secret exercises were found so profitable and
consolatory, that she prized every new opportu-
nity of engaging in them. The following passage is
interesting, as being connected with this subject: it
affords a proof of the candour with which she lis-
tened to the public teachers of religion, even when
they opposed the principles and feelings which she
cherished, as well as of the modesty and humility of
her mind, and her anxious solicitude to be taught of
God.

'* Monday, Sept. 11, 1769. — Was enabled to rise

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 385

pretty early, and went about duty in secret; then
with my sisters. 1 afterwards went and saw W. H.,
and prayed with him, and his wife and child. O
that the blood of my dear Saviour and Redeemer
may perfume all my poor prayers ! At church, Mr.
A. preached from these words, * Turn thou to the
Lord thy God.' Part of what he said, I liked much,
but could not agree with him in every thing. He
argued against retiring much from the world for
private exercises ; and said, our Lord was not much
in private ; which I could not agree with him in
thinking. Our Lord was a man of sorrows, and
acquainted with grief; and surely, as far as I can
understand the Scriptures, was much with his hea-
venly Father, excepting when in the exercise of his
public ministry ; and then also he was engaged in
his Father's business. But, O Lord, I look to thee
for direction ; discover to me my duty by thine
unerring Spirit, and lead me in the way in which thou
wouldest have me to go. O deny me not the privi-
lege of being often retired from the world, to speak
with thee, my God ! Didst thou not send thine
angel to Cornelius, when engaged in humiliation and
prayer, to bid him send for Peter, that he might
reveal to him things that he knew not? and didst
thou not say to him that his prayers were heard,
and his alms accepted? Did not thy servants of
old, David, Nehemiah, Daniel, and many others,
often retire from the world, to express to thee the
desires of their souls? And, O dear Saviour! didst
thou not set the example of prayer, of fasting, and
self-denial? Lord, clear up this duty to me. Mr. A.
spoke of Christian conversation as a necessary duty,
and as conducive to a holy practice and a holy
cheerfulness. We must expect to meet with many
discouragements while passing through this wilder-
ness; but this must not stop our progress. He said
many strong and good things, and I hope he had
God's presence and Spirit directing him in much
VOL. ji. s

386 MEMOIRS OF

that he said. In the evening, I found my soul much
burdened with sin, and I cried to the Lord. O God,
I trust, ere long, thou wilt turn my darkness into
light, my midnight into day !"

'' Saturday, Sept. 23. — This night, by God's grace,
I desire to set apart for spiritual exercises, as I have
not had an opportunity of setting apart any day
smce Tuesday the 12th; I should rather say, have
not embraced anytime for that purpose; which, I
desire, O Lord, to lament. God grant that while I
have a being, I may never live so long in the neglect
of any known duty !"

The following passages display much sensibility
and tenderness of conscience.

" Dec. IL — This morning had much grief on my
mind, on account of my last night's troubles*.
When I went to my parents, they both spoke
roughly to me, and 1 was overwhelmed anew with
grief, and wept sore. After that, 1 went by myself,
and, as far as I was enabled, spent the day to God.
This was a day of particular grief to me. O my
God, who only knowest the evils I am encompassed
with, send me relief for thy dear Son's sake !
Blessed Jesus, wash away, with thy cleansing blood,
every evil that defiles my soul. My dependence is
on thee, my Lord God. In mercy raise and quicken
me, according to thy word. At night, I was led to
view myself as more in the fault than I had done
through the day, and to regard what I was labour-
ing under as a just punishment from God. I saw
that it did not become me to repine, though things
in this world were not with me as I could wish ; for
sure the smallest mercy I enjoy is unmerited, and it
becomes me to be contented with my lot, however
God may order it. My dear and patient Lord, who
wast a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,

* Her parents had been offended at a part of her conduct
during their absence from home.

MRS. TRANGES CUNNINGHAM. 387

enable me to meditate on thy love, humility, and
patience ; subdue all repining thoughts, and give me
grace to bear, with holy resignation, whatever cross
thou seest meet to lay upon me."

"Wednesday, March 30, 1770.— How shall I
begin to speak of this day's exercises! I rose about
seven, it having been past two o'clock before I went
to rest. After I rose, I went carelessly on till the
morning was well over. After that, I approached
God in prayer, reading, and praise ; but what can I
think when, after this duty was over, I spent the day
in a carnal idle way, indulged in much imprudent,
fruitless discourse, which I am ashamed to think of,
and did little or nothing useful all day. Oh, this
precious day has been wickedly spent ! Lord, forbid
that I ever again be left so far to the freedom of my
own will. Lord Jesus, redeem me from the power
of Satan, for thou only canst ; and thou knowest
that when I am enabled to be, in any measure,
serious, I desire to rest on thee for all I want and
wish for. What is the fruit of sin but anguish of
soul, cuttings of conscience, pain, and grief! Lord,
support me under my burden, and put thy precious
yoke upon my neck. Defend me against the frailty
of my nature, and against every temptation. Let
me not be torn with Satan's suggestions ; but grant
me peace of conscience, increase of grace, and per-
severance in the way of duty. O King, in the midst
of my unworthiness, what reason have I to love, and
fear, and adore thy boundless mercy ! Let thy own
works praise thee ; for I cannot, till renewed by thy
power."

It would be easy to multiply quotations from
every page of her diary, expressive of the humility,
vigilance, and piety of the writer. But we must
confine ourselves to a few additional extracts from
the papers written before her marriage.

" March 26, 1772. — I have great reason to bless
my God for his care of me through this dav, but,

s2

388 MEMOIRS OF

alas! much reason to lament my want of love to my
God, and of conformity to his holy will ; in parti-
cular, to lament that, both in the forenoon and at
night, I was much overcome with an ill temper.
No doubt, both times I thought I was getting
provocation; but, O King of glory! give me that
heavenly temper that believeth all things, endureth
all things, thinketh no evil, speaketh no evil, but
quietly waiteth and hopeth for thy salvation, my
sure friend, my God, my comforter/'

'' Monday, May 18.— This day Mrs. Stewart, of
T., died. I saw her depart this life, and was much
affected with the sight. As God enabled me, I
cried to him in behalf of her soul ; and these words
came into my mind, * Daughter, thy sins are forgiven
thee;' and 1 trust in thy mercy, great God, it is so.
Next day I went and sat by her corpse, and several
others with me : we spent the night in reading, prayer,
and praise. Wednesday, attended Mrs. Stewart's
coffining ; a very dismal scene. O my God ! sanc-
tify these sights to me. Friday, Mrs. S. was buried.
A more afflicted family I never saw. A little after
her corpse went out of the house, her child died.
He had many severe struggles in death : I was
much distressed to see him. I thought on my own
vileness, and what I deserved to suffer, when that
harmless babe, who was but a few days old, suffered
so much."

'' Nov. 28, 1772. — I have much to remark of God's
goodness in making me the instrument of relieving
poor A. C. out of a circumstance of great distress.
He was turned out of this family's service, and he
did not know what to do. I went to his house, saw
his wife great with child, and in very great grief;
her old frail mother was laid in the bed unwell ; and
they have two helpless children. My heart was
pained to see them ; they made their complaint to
me ; the one by tears, the other by sighs. I told
them I would speak for them to my mother ; which

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 389

I did ; and it pleased a gracious God to pity these
poor distressed persons ; for my mother gave me
leave to acquaint them, that he might return to his
service. This gave them great comfort, and I desire
to make mention of it to the praise of free grace,
that regards the low estate of his creatures, and
leaves none destitute of his love and bounty. O my
God, often let me be the messenger of peace to
others, and, in my station in the world, always
engaged in works of love and charity !

" Phisgill-house, Wed. Sept. 13, 1775. — I desire
this day, O my all-seeing God, to look up to thee
for light, counsel, and direction, in all I think, say,
or do ; and, through Christ, I hope to be enabled to
devote myself, in soul and body, from this moment
forth, to thee. O my King and God, let my ensuing
life be truly conformed to thy blessed will. I am
fully persuaded, that my true and only rest is to be
found in thee. And what happiness is it to have
Tkee to go to, to tell all my distress to thee, and to
know that thou art both able and willing to relieve !
Lord God Almighty, lead me in the way of thy
commandments for Jesus' sake. Thine unerring
providence has brought me back to this place.
Grant that it may appear that it has been in love and
mercy. The ordinances which I enjoyed in Edin-
burgh, were sweet to me ; but I desire to believe
that it was more for thy glory, that I should be
removed from them, (I hope but for a season,) than
that I should have remained. O make my return to
this place a special blessing to myself and others !
Sanctify my brother's death ; may it prove a me-
mento to me while I live ! May I be enabled to take
a serious view of death, day by day, till thou call
me home to that glorious rest, which Christ has
purchased for redeemed souls. Grant me repentance
unto life, never to be repented of. Conform me to
.thy will, in thought, word, and deed. Deliver me
from unguarded thoughts, words, actions, and de-

390 MEMOIRS OF

sires. Whatever comes not from thyself, and has
not the image of my Lord upon it, may my soul
detest and utterly reject! O my Jesus, remember
how thou prayedst that thy people, while in the
world, might be kept from the evil of it : I plead
this prayer of thine, as I am sure thou wast heard
and accepted in all thy requests. I trust I am the
purchase of thy blood ; reveal thyself to me, and let
my soul find rest in thee. Come life, come death,
prosperity or trial, I cast myself on thee, my God.
Whatever my wants are, do thou supply them ; and
order in thy kind providence, whatever thou seest
meet for the advancement of thy glory. To thee, O
God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, be never-
ending glory, and never-ceasing praise ! Lord,
accept of me, thine unworthy handmaid, Frances
Hawthorn Stewart."

'* Phisgill-house, Tuesday, March 5, 1776. — O
God, holy and true, what shall I render to thee for
all thy mercies, and for the wonderful condescensions
of thy boundless love! I humbly pray that thou
wilt accept of me, and direct me to think, speak, and
act, at all times, under the influence of thy Holy
Spirit. O Lord Jesus, I long above every thing to
find thy Holy Spirit effectually removing the leprosy
of sin, that my soul is so much defiled with ! Thou
dear Son of God, pity a poor sinner that lies prostrate
before thy throne, hoping for salvation in no other
way but through thy wonderful sufferings. My
soul is weary of sin ; O let me find relief in having
thy yoke put upon me, and may I draw under it for
ever ! — What I have this day been laying before thee
as to myself and others, be pleased to grant. And
as to thy servant R. C., fulfil thy pleasure. O my
God, bring my will to thy will ; give me an under-
standing of thy holy will ; and overrule both his
affections and mine into the road of duty. O my
God, my happiness consists wholly in enjoying thee,
and in being ruled and guided by thee. Let me

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 391

know what it is to be in covenant with thee, and to
hold communion with thee, and enable me to rejoice
in thy salvation. Remember me, and look with an
eye of pity on me, and fill my longing soul with thy
refreshing grace. Accept of the poor faint aims of
thine unworthy creature to serve thee, and devote
herself to thee for ever; imploring above every
thing to have communion with thee, and to be
governed by the power of thy Holy Spirit.

*' April 25. O Lord my God, direct thou the way
wherein I should go, and fix my views in the road of
duty as to R. C. Open mine eyes to discover thy
will and mind in this matter ; let me not offend thee
either in desiring what is not thy will, or in doubting
what is thy will. 1 would desire, in the name, and
through the assistance, of my glorious Lord Jesus,
to hold up my own case, and the case of thy servant,
this night unto thee, and say, Here we are, blessed
God, do with us in love and mercy what seemeth
good to thee. Bless us both, by pardoning our sins,
and strengthening every virtue ; and whatever rela-
tion we may now or hereafter hold to each other,
Lord God, have tho^i ever the chief room in our
hearts, and let all we do be by the light and guidance
of thy Holy Spirit. — My Lord God, whatever mercy
thou bestowest on me, 1 would desire, like thy ser-
vant Hannah of old, to devote it from the first of my
receiving it to thee ; whether it be husband, child,
house, servants, or any other of the good things of
life ; and 1 humbly beseech thee to accept, through
Christ, the free-will-offering. If thy child R. C. is
to be my earthly husband, grant that we may both
have the full assurance of being heirs of the grace
of God, and may be comforts to each other in our
spiritual and temporal warfare, and ever have thy
glory singly at heart in all we do. Give me thy
witnessing Spirit that this is thine own work, and
that in thine own time thou wilt perfect it. Enable
me to have a close watch over all my thoughts,

392

MEMOIRS OF

words, and actions, to do nothing but with an eye
to thy glory, and to have no desire or affection but
what is the work of thine own Spirit. — I am the
creature of many unmerited mercies; crown them
all by clearing up my evidences for eternal life, and
granting me a strong and lively faith, to lay hold on
thee in all the precious promises that thou hast given
to sinners of mankind. Give me power to take
sweet and lively views of future glory, and to con-
sider what my covenanted God has done to purchase
life for me. He has sweetened death by dying and
rising again. Raise my thoughts above the world;
keep me from the evil ; and seal my soul to the day
of redemption."

These extracts abundantly shew the tenderness of
the Writer's conscience, the simplicity of her trust
in Christ, and the ardour of her love to her heavenly
Father. If they should appear to any reader to be
more frequently characterized by the expression of
penitence and contrition, of godly jealousy with
respect to her state, and of holy solicitude, to '* make
her calling and election sure," than by the display
of animated consolation and lively joy 5 it is to be
considered, that, while deeply sensible of the indis-
pensable necessity and infinite value of the blessings
of salvation, she scarcely durst, during a considerable
part of the period to which they relate, believe that
these blessings were her own. It is also to be re-
membered, that grace is modified in the characters
in which it appears, by their peculiar turn of temper,
and natural constitution of mind. It does not make
a grave person gay ; nor does it convert one who is
naturally of a merry heart, into a sad and gloomy
character. The Writer of these papers appears to
have been naturally thoughtful and timid, rather than
lively and sanguine ; and besides, was placed in dis-
couraging circumstances in regard to her spiritual
concerns, not having the consolation of an expe-
rienced counsellor, or of a kind and sympathizing

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 393

friend. The circumstances of her external lot, in
conjunction with her natural temper, may certainly
be allowed to have had some influence in determining
the character of her religious feelings. But if they
sometimes had the effect of depressing and discou-
raging her mind, it cannot be doubted that they were
instrumental in fostering the peculiar excellencies of
her character. They doubtless contributed, under
Divine grace, to form in her that love of retirement,
that dread of the temptations of the world, that
strictness of conversation, that spirit of watchfulness
and prayer, w^hich so constantly display themselves
in her diary, but which certainly are not the leading
features of the religion of the present day. In read-
ing her confessions, we are reminded of those holy
wanderers on the mountains, in the forlorn and
dejected periods of the church, who esteemed it a
great privilege to obtain the favour of God, and
escape the notice of man.

But the reader must, at the same time, have
remarked, that she had ample experience of the
consolations of the Gospel. She " feared the Lord,
and obeyed the voice of his servants ;" and though
she sometimes " walked in darkness and had no
light/' yet she *' trusted in the name of the Lord,
and stayed herself upon her God." She habitually
obeyed the precept, ^' In every thing by prayer and
supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be
made known to God :" and she obtained the fulfil-
ment of the promise connected with it : ^' And the
peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall
keep your heart and mind, by Jesus Christ." Her
papers are not, perhaps, in any point of view more
instructive, than as illustrating the happy effects of
a dihgent application to the secret exercises of reli-
gion, in soothing the sorrows of the heart, and in
cherishing and promoting the principles of grace
-and holiness. In this view, they afford much encou-
ragement to those who are favoured with few ex-

s 5

394 MEMOIRS OF

ternal assistances in their spiritual concerns, and
who may be tempted, in an hour of despondency^
to say, " No man careth for my soul/' They shew
how much consolation and improvement may be
obtained by diligence in studying the Scriptures,,
and steady perseverance in prayer, when other
advantages are but scantily afforded.

The reader will have noticed the frequent recur-
rence, in Miss Stewart's papers, of days set apart
for religious exercises, and the very conscientious
manner in which they were observed. When we
consider the early age at which she began to address
herself to this most serious duty, and remember that
she applied to it, not on extraordinary occasions
only, when under the pressure of peculiar difficulties
and trials, but frequently and systematically, as
to one of the ordinary means of grace ; we must
acknowledge the practice to be remarkable, and
certainly must regard it as a striking proof of the
sincerity and depth of her religious feelings. It is
not to be expected that her example in this respect
should find many imitators. The practice to which
we refer, requires a command of time and leisure,
which falls to the share of comparatively few ; and
it also requires in those who would engage in it
with profit, a degree of self-denial, a patience in
meditation, a perseverance in prayer, an earnestness
of desire in seeking after spiritual blessings, which
forbid us to expect that it should ever cease to be
singular. Indeed, to prescribe the frequent observ-
ance of this duty to the greater part of even the
true disciples of Christ, would be to incur the
reproach of putting ** new wine into old bottles."
Still it may be questioned, whether the general
neglect into which, it is to be feared, this duty has
fallen, is not to be regarded as an evidence of the
feebleness of our religious feelings, and of the scan-
tiness of our attainments in the spiritual life. Per-
haps, the neglect of this practice among Protestants,

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 395

may have arisen partly from the abuse of it by
designing hypocrites or self-righteous fanatics in
the Church of Rome. But certainly, the pretences
of hypocrites and fanatics should not be allowed to
lessen our esteem of a practice recommended by
the example of the most favoured servants of God,
and sanctioned by the authority of our Lord him-
self, who has prescribed the manner in which it is
to be observed*. It cannot be doubted that the
setting apart of particular seasons for religious ex-
ercises, and even for fasting, is one important means
of weakening the principles of sin, and strengthen-
ing those of holiness. And I suppose it will be
found, that among those who have made the highest
attainments in the spiritual life, there have been few
who have not acknowledged that when, like his
servants of old, they have " set their faces unto the
Lord God, to seek him by prayer and supplications
with fasting," God has often visited them with an
abundant blessing, has relieved their perplexities,
has soothed their sorrows, and has remarkably
encouraged and strengthened their souls.

In her youth, the subject of this Memoir fre-
quently associated with the higher classes of society;
but she was preserved from being intoxicated by
the flattering charms of worldly greatness. The
insight into character which she obtained through
means of her intercourse with high life, strengthened
her conviction of the emptiness and vanity of those
things which are generally looked up to with desire
or envy ; and furnished her with a practical proof
of the indispensable necessity, in every condition of
life, of the knowledge of Christ and of him crucified,
to communicate true excellence to the character, or
impart real enjoyment to the heart. — In after life
she was destined to move in a different sphere. On
the 18th of June, 1776, she was united in marriage

* Matt. vi. 16 — 18.

396 MEMOIRS OF

with the Rev. Robert Cunningham, of Balgownie, a
gentleman of considerable property, who, from the
purest motives, had devoted himself to the ministry
of the Gospel. Though she did not feel herself at
liberty to unite herself with the connexion to which
he belonged, but remained in the communion of the
Church of Scotland, yet, from respect and affection
to her husband, she usually attended his ministry,
and proved an help-meet for him in spiritual as well
as in temporal concerns. In mentioning her mai*^
riage in her diary, she expresses a deep sense of
the heavy charge she took upon her, there being a
large family by a former marriage ; and prays for
grace to direct and support her. The following ex-
tracts afford a specimen of the devout feelings and
conscientious views with which she entered on this
new state of life.

'' Thursday, July 11, 1776. O my Lord God, I
have much cause to adore thine infinite and unme-
rited mercy in my preservation hitherto, and for the
rich provision thou hast been pleased to make for
me. Guide me in this land wherein I am a stranger,
and make me useful in this house and place, while I
abide in it. Be pleased to enable me to set an ex-
ample of real piety to all around me ; kindle in me
a fire of zeal for thy glory. Let this day be spent in
thy fear, and let me hold communion with thee, my
God, my very chiefest joy !

" Friday, July 12. This new day, my Lord, I
desire to bless thee for the many mercies I enjoy;
and O sanctify every trial I meet with, whether in
temporal or in spiritual concerns. Thou, Lord, who
seest me, seest that I am surrounded with many
difficulties. But nothing is too hard for thee : thou
-art able to support and deliver. Be pleased in thy
good time to put a new song into my mouth our
God to magnify. I know, O my God, thou canst
not err : be a present help to me, and uphold me
with the right hand of thy righteousness. Let me

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 397

confide in none but thee ; for none else is worthy of
confidence. Thou art my God, my friend, my cove-
nanted God ; my all for time, my all for eternity ;
my joy, my rest, and crown of rejoicing. In pros-
perity and in adversity, I desire to have my heart
wholly only fixed on thee. Lord Jesus, come to
me ; and as thou hast heard me, still look with love
and pity upon me, and revive and comfort my
drooping soul."

The following is without a date.

*' O sweet Jesus, how precious thou art to me !
Though while 1 sojourn here, I be daily failing in
my duty, thou art ever the same, sure and stedfast.
Thy purity and perfection, and thy having reconciled
an offended God with guilty man, are all my hope,
all my plea. Revive and quicken me, for thy name's
sake : for thy righteousness' sake, bring me out of
trouble. In this new situation in which thou hast
placed me, give me grace to act a part for thy glory,
and to have clean garments in this defiling day.
And be entreated, O my God, to keep me from
pride, passion, and every evil temper. Since I
entered into this new state, I have found many
things to humble me, prove me, and try me : grant
that the fruit of all may be to take away sin, and
that I may have my eye fixed close on thee, my
only hope and trust. O my God, thou knowest how
much grief and temptation I experienced on Thurs-
day ; and, worst of all, I fear it was a token of thy
displeasure. O my God, indeed I deserve thy wrath,
and nothing but thy wrath, but ' do thou for me,
O God the Lord :' * let thy sweet mercy deliver me,
for my heart is exceedingly wounded within me.'
Look down on me, and draw me with the cords of
thy love, and keep me from the evil of the world,
while I am in it. * I wait for God, my soul doth
wait, and in his word do I hope : my soul waiteth
•for the Lord, more than they that watch for the
iuorning.' "

398 MEMOIRS OF

" Bowerhouses, Wednesday, April 19, 1780. Most
glorious and ever blessed Lord God of hosts, I
thine unworthy creature desire this day to draw
near to thee. I desire to give myself up to thee for
time and eternity, having no hope of salvation, but
only and wholly through the blessed Lord Jesus,
my covenanted God and King, God of gods, and
Lord of lords, God equal with the Father. It is on
thee, and thee alone, I depend for my access to
God, my head and surety. .Draw me with the cords
of thine unbounded love : grant me a token for
good. Say unto me, * I have loved thee with an
everlasting love ; yea, with loving-kindness have I
drawn thee.' Now, my God, I also would present
to thee my dear helpless children, S. and R. Be
thou their all in all, their everlasting portion and
inheritance. I do not ask for honours or riches for
them in this world, but 1 ask for love to thee their
God to reign in them and to reign over them, that
they may be witnesses for thee their God. Seal
them unto the day of redemption. I also plead in
behalf of my husband. Let the duties of this day
be blessed to each soul in this family; a day of
humiliation, to acknowledge our sins, and praise
thee for thy mercies. Let it be the beginning of
good days to each soul in this house. God, pity
my husband's children whom 1 am set over as a
temporary parent. O that thy grace may be suffi-
cient for them all. Remember me with that love
which thou bearest to thine own. Keep me in the
road of duty : make me in every thing what I should
be. I am thine ; I give myself to thee with all
that is mine, or ever shall be mine. O my Lord,
my God, accept; and to thee, the high and holy
God, be all the glory.

*' November 2. Most high God, I desire to
mourn before thee this evening on account of all
my sins, and to be very humble on account of the
situation I am now in. O my God, I beseech thee

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 399

to remember me, for it is thyself alone that can
support me under all my distresses. As far as I
know mine own heart, I desire to lie low before
thee, to confess my manifold transgressions, and to
mourn for all my past sins. And, O my God, with
my very soul I desire to be set free from my present
trials in the way that is most for thine own glory.
This evening I have been endeavouring in much
weakness to cry to God : from the depth of my dis-
tress do thou hear my voice. Did that encouraging
word come from thee, * What is thy petition, and
what is thy request, and it shall be granted ?' O
my God, my request and supreme desire is, to have
thee to reign in me and over me, to be wholly con-
formed to thy blessed will, and to be delivered from
this body of sin. Keep the hedge of thy grace
around me, and in all my fiery trials, uphold me for
thy name's sake.

" Bowerhouses, Thursday, May 31, 1781. Father
of mercies, God of all consolation, what reason have
I to love and praise thee with my whole heart and
soul, when I consider all thy way of dealing with
me, ever since I had a being! Dost not thou say,
that whom thou lovest thou chastisest, and scourgest
every son whom thou receivest? — On Saturday,
May 19, between eleven and twelve at night, my
dear son, John Hawthorn Cunningham, was seized
with a violent illness. He continued very ill till
between ten and eleven at night on the Wednesday
following ; when, after a very severe struggle, he
fell asleep, I trust in the arms of his God. His
death was a very sharp trial to me : I was suckling
him, and he as dear and fond a child as I could wish
to have. He was aged four months, sixteen days ;
a most delightful pleasant babe. But yet, I was
glad to see him laid to rest, for his trouble became
very great. May I, O my God! get the sanctified
use of it, for thy glorious Son's sake. When I went
to implore the Lord for hira, these portions were

400 MEMOIRS OF

laid to my hand : Psalm cxvi. 8. ' Thou hast de*
iivered my so«l from death, mine eyes from tears,
my feet from falling.' And Rev. xi. 17. * We give
thee thanks, O Lord God Almighty ! which art and
wast and art to come, because thou hast taken to
thee thy great power, and hast reigned.' Both these
portions I was directed, I hope by the Holy Spirit
of God, to read, when 1 went to implore the Divine
mercy in his behalf; and they abode with me
during my child's great and sore affliction. I would
fain take comfort that God was, so to speak, bound
by his own promises in behalf of my dear infant ;
for often I implored his deliverance in the Lord's
own way, either by life or death, according to his
glorious pleasure ; but I am sure, I think, I never
asked his life absolutely. O how happy to be
removed from this sinful state to be with God !
There I trust he is ; and there, my God, I long to
be. When I went to pray for him, a few moments
before he departed, these Scriptures came much on
my mind : ' If any man open the door, I will come
in to him, and sup with him, and he with me :' and,
,* If any two agree on earth, as touching any thing
that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my
Father which is in heaven.' Now at this time Mr.
C. was at prayer for my dear child as well as I ; and
just as I pleaded this, death came upon him; and I
fell down a second time to pray for him, and cried
to my God to take him, and found myself as willing
to part with him as I was to receive him. At that
moment, I remembered my glorious Saviour's suffer-
ings on the cross, which I believe are what alone
can purchase life for sinners ; and I hope, and
desire to take comfort in the belief, that my dear
babe is at this moment enjoying perfect communion
with God through the merits of my glorious Christ's
death and resurrection. My sweet Jesus, thou art
dear to me : thou art my covenanted God, my
peace, my all. Let me find thee in this howling

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 401

desert, for I am black and parched with grief.
Lord, give me recovery in my bondage, and quicken
me to call on thy name. Let me get spiritual know-
ledge from thee to discern the true cause of all my
afflictions. O my God, thou knowest that I have
gone through very heavy trials in this house. Be
not far off when grief is near. Thou art able to
succour those that are tempted : support and com-
fort me in every furnace into which thou art pleased
to cast me.

" Wednesday, November 5, 1783. I desire this
night, O my dearest Lord God, to draw near to
thee, believing, that amid my great unworthiness,
thou still waitest to be gracious. Everlasting praise
be to thee, that though I am a poor vile worm, thou
art the unchangeable God, who both in thy word
and providence art declaring thyself, ' the Lord
God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abundant
in goodness and truth/ Now, O holy Father,
encouraged by the many invitations thou art pleased
day by day to give me, to repent, return and live, I
this night desire to renounce the devil, the world,
and all my base former lusts and idols. It is in a
firm dependence on thy promised grace I dare to
do this, or hope for strength to perform my duty.
I am happy to become an eternal debtor to thy free
grace. I wish to live and die in the full assurance
of this, that while, as of myself, I can do nothing,
through glorious Christ 1 shall be made more than
conqueror over hell and the grave. I desire, O my
God, to give myself to thee for ever : let me be
joined to thee, my God, and live and die under the
sweet influences of thine enlightening Spirit. Here
I am ; do with me what thou wilt : only be not a
God that hidest thyself, and withdraw not thy sweet
mercy, which is my only hope and plea. O Christ,
present me spotless to thy heavenly Father, and
make me acceptable in his sight. I also, glorious
Father, beseech thee to bless, and take for ever

402 MEMOIRS OF

under thy special care and keeping, my two dear
babes. Let them be thine in life and in death ; let
not sin have dominion over them ; but let them be
* washed and sanctified and justified in the name of
our Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of the most high
God/ They are thine by creation : make them
thine by redemption. I cast them wholly on thy
care : Lord God Almighty, reject them not, but let
them and me be for ever thine. Be my God in life
and death ; my stay, my shield, my strength. I
desire to devote myself, and all that is mine, or ever
shall be mine, to thee.

^' Frances Cunningham."

The feelings of a tender and watchful mother,
constant in her endeavours to lead her children to
an experimental knowledge of true religion, and
affectionately solicitous to discover in them the prin-
ciples of grace and holiness, continually appear in
her diary. In this relation, indeed, she was parti-
cularly exemplary, whether we consider the tender-
ness of her affection for her children, or the wisdom
and prudence with which she exercised it, the
assiduity with which she laboured to promote their
comfort and improvement, or the earnestness with
which she implored the Divine blessing on her
endeavours. When they were, at a future period,
removed from under her eye, she still felt an un-
abated concern for their spiritual as well as temporal
interests, and ceased not to seek their salvation
with prayers and tears night and day.

The papers which have been discovered, come
down only a few years lower than the date of the
above extract, and are not numerous. We cannot
but regret that no memorials remain of the last
twenty years of her life. Perhaps the cares of an
increasing family, or the infirmities of age, left her
little time to record the exercises of her soul; or,
perhaps, prudential motives induced her to discon-

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 403

tinue the practice, or to destroy her papers after
having written them.

The religious experience of the people of God is
as various as the features of their faces, or the
incidents of their lives ; yet, we may perhaps safely
remark^ that when God designs to lead any person
to remarkable eminence in grace and holiness, he
usually accomplishes his purpose, either by calling
them to difficult and laborious services, or by im-
posing on them severe and multiphed trials and
afflictions. The latter method was that which he
more particularly employed with respect to Mrs. C.
The view given of her experience in the above ex-
tracts, corresponds with the declarations of Scrip-
ture, that " many are the trials of the righteous ;"
and " that we must through much tribulation enter
into the kingdom of God." We cannot but remark,
that, in every situation in life, God has trials at
command, to exercise the faith, and improve the
graces of his people. These, too, are often such as
baffle the comprehension of those whose minds are
affected only by worldly things ; arising from an
apprehension of evils which thei/ will not allow
themselves to fear, from a sense of corrupt principles
in the heart which they will not acknowledge, or
from the assault of temptations which they seek not
to resist. The trials arising from such sources as
these, are peculiarly instrumental in promoting that
entire renunciation of our own righteousness and
strength, that simple dependence on the merits and
grace of Christ, that affectionate surrender of our
choicest earthly comforts to the will of God, that
earnest longing after the purity and perfection of
heaven, which are among the most unequivocal
proofs of a state of grace, and which the reader
must have noticed, written in conspicuous cha-
I'acters, in the above extracts. Often is the expe-
rienced Christian ready to adopt the Apostle's
words, *' O wretched man that I am ! Who shall

404 MEMOIRS Oi'

deliver me from this body of death ?" But again,
with him he composes his soul in saying, ** I thank
God, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Blessed is
every trial which endears Christ to the soul.

The extracts from Mrs. Cunningham's Diary,
which have been laid before the reader, certainly
afford unequivocal proofs of the most sincere piety,
and even demonstrate a soul distinguished by no
ordinary attainments in spirituality, vigilance, and
holiness. Yet, they are far from being sufficient to
convey an adequate idea of her character ; because,
not to mention that some of the most interesting
passages have necessarily been suppressed, the ex-
cellence of her character consisted very much in
that which a few extracts of distant dates cannot
exhibit; the uniform consistency, the unwearied
constancy, the ceaseless perseverance, of her reli-
gious course. As the writer of this memoir pro-
ceeded in perusing her papers, and was gradually let
into the secret of her hidden life, her character
continually gained upon him, and rose higher and
higher in his esteem. He found that those expres-
sions of penitent sorrow and grateful admiration,
which, when they first occurred, might naturally be
looked on as extraordinary and occasional, were
indeed the habitual expressions of her soul. Day
after day, and year after year, with occasional varia-
tions of frame indeed, but with a steady and even
increasing influence, she discovers the same affect-
ing sense of sin, the same admiration of the for-
bearance and mercy of God, the same simple trust
in the Redeemer, and the same vigilance over the
state of her soul ; and we are made to feel that a
long life of faith and patience, amid many conflicts
and trials, is more valuable and glorious than the
warmest feelings and most splendid exertions, if
arising from principles of only occasional influence.
Perseverance in difficult and important pursuits, is
Justly regarded as the mark of a powerful mind;

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 405

but no perseverance is so truly admirable as that
effect of more than human power, perseverance in
the fight of faith.

The principle w^hich lay at the foundation of her
character, vi'as a deep-rooted faith in the doctrines
of God's word. She received these doctrines in all
their simplicity, with the docihty and humility of a
little child ; she regarded them with the deepest
reverence, and felt their influence on her heart.
The doctrines of Scripture with respect to the entire
depravity of human nature, the sovereignty and
freeness of the grace of God, the method of salvation
through a crucified Redeemer, and the necessity of
the regenerating and sanctifying influence of the
Spirit, were the principles on which all her views
and hopes in religion were founded. They were
engraven by the finger of God on the tablet of her
heart. Her conviction of them was not merely
speculative, but practical and experimental. Her
conscience bore witness to the truth of those repre-
sentations which the Scriptures give of the state of
fallen man ; while her heart and affections clung
with ardour to the good tidings of the grace and
merits of a Redeemer. Her faith was that which
is '* the substance of things hoped for, the evidence
of things not seen." Invisible and eternal things
made such an impression on her mind, that she
seemed, not merely to believe, but to see and feel
them.

One of the most remarkable fruits of her faith,
was a holy reverence for God. The influence of
this feeling was very observable. Her speech, her
manner, her whole behaviour, intimated that she
cherished an habitual sense of the presence of God,
and a holy fear of his Divine Majesty. She seldom
mentioned the name of God without a visible pause.
She noticed, with much care, his providence in the
various events of life. Nothing in the least degree
remarkable could take place without being instantly

406 MEMOIRS OF

referred by her to the agency of Providence; and
the inquiry at once arose, " What does God intend
by this ? what does he intimate as his will and my
duty?" She *' endured, as seeing him who is invi-
sible." Whatever might befall her through the
instrumentahty of human agents, or in the ordinary
course of life, she regarded God as the doer of it,
and turned her thoughts away from the creature, to
direct them to Him. The Second Person of the
Godhead was the object of her adoration and de-
light. She seldom mentioned either God or Christ,
whether in conversation or in prayer, without some
such epithets as, '^ glorious, adorable, precious ;"
which, in her, were not the odious cant of hypocrisy,
but the expression of the most sacred feelings.
Her reverence for God was the cause of her deep
sense of the evil of sin ; for, regarding it as com-
mitted against God, she could not esteem it a light
evil.

The following incident may serve to illustrate the
nature of the associations that prevailed in her
mind, and the tenderness and depth of her religious
feelings. She happened to be in London at the
time of Mr. Hastings' impeachment, and was one of
a small party who had obtained an order for admis-
sion into Westminster- hall, on one of the days of
that celebrated trial ; but, on presenting the order,
the door-keeper objected to it, observing, that the
seal was not that of the nobleman whose signature
it bore. The party felt themselves in a very unplea-
sant situation ; and Mrs. C., who was naturally
timid, and who trembled at the imputation, of
forwardness or deceit, was particularly agitated.
In this exigence, a gentleman addressed them, and
after inquiring into the circumstances of the case,
spoke to the door-keeper, and procured them admis-
sion. This circumstance sank so deeply into Mrs.
C.'s mind, that for a night or two it banished sleep
from her eyes. The reader will easily conjecture

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 407

what thoughts and feelings it suggested. It carried
an awakening impression to her mind, of the necessity
of having her soul '* sealed unto the day of redemp-
tion ;" of the disgrace and misery of those who
shall be rejected at the last day; of the condescen-
sion and grace of Him who intercedes for the guilty;
and of the happiness of those who are admitted into
heaven.

It is often thought that those whose views of God
are peculiarly solemn, and whose sense of sin is
deep, are characterized by a melancholy habit, which
is hostile to all enjoyment. But no idea can be
more erroneous. Such views, indeed, naturally
produce an habitual seriousness of mind ; but this
is by no means inconsistent with the purest delights.
It deserves to be considered, that the more deeply
we are impressed with a sense of the Divine glory
and of our own sinfulness, the more we are disposed
to prize the expressions of the Divine goodness.
The goodness of God is commended, on the one
hand, by a sense of our own worthlessness, and on
the other, by a discovery of his excellence and great-
ness. This was remarkably the case with Mrs. C.
Her sense of the infinite love of God in ** giving
his Son to be the propitiation for our sins," was
profound and lively. But even the slightest in-
stances of Divine goodness in providence, which
many would have entirely overlooked, she acknow-
ledged with a liveliness of feeling, with a depth of
gratitude, which, without having such views as she
had, we should almost think disproportioned to the
occasions which called them forth.

Of her assiduous attention to religious ordinances
we have had abundant proofs in the extracts from
her papers. The spirit with which she attended
the pubhc ordinances of religion, was still more
admirable than the constancy of her attendance.
She went to the house of God simply to worship
God, and to hear his w^ord. It seldom happens that

408 MEMOIRS OF

a person of her discriminating judgement, with re-
spect to the truths of the Gospel, is so entirely free
from the influence of personal considerations in
regard to the public teachers of religion. Though
deeply hurt when the great truths of the Gospel were
mutilated, and especially when any thing was said
which seemed to advance human merit, or detract
from the honours of free grace, she was nevertheless
exceedingly candid in interpreting what was said,
and was able to derive benefit and comfort from very
ordinary discourses.

Indeed, in leoard to her fellow-creatures in o^ene-
ral, one of the most remarkable features of her cha-
racter was, her candour in judging. She was slow
to discern the faults of others, and backward to
mention them. In her earlier life, she laments, on
some occasions, that she had been betrayed into
unguarded and severe expressions with respect to
others : she even, with the sensibility and severity
of a watchful and jealous conscience, mentions back-
biting as one of her besetting sins. But certainly,
no one ever obtained a more complete victory over
herself. When she found it impossible altogether
to justify the actions of others, she did not judge
their motives, but rather mentioned such apologies
as the case would bear. Unconscious of the supe-
riority of her own attainments, convinced of the
necessity, in her own case, of all the grace she
could obtain, abashed by a sense of her own infirm-
ities, she was not at all concerned to judge others,
but without self-denial embraced that precept,
" Honour all men." She felt the force of that ques-
tion, " Who art thou that judgest another's servant?
— For we must all appear before the judgement-seat
of Christ." This was the source of her candour ; an
habitual recollection of judgement to come, a refer-
ring of every thing to that awful day.

Her charities were extensive. In performing them,
she was governed by the pure principles of the Ga&-

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 409

pel. She felt it a duty which she owed to her God
and Saviour, to devote a considerable portion of her
income to charitable purposes. She *• considered
the case of the poor" with wisdom and tenderness,
and delighted in relieving their distresses. Many
are the families, both in the parish in which she re-
sided, and in the neighbouring parishes, which will
long remember her kindness. She took a particular
interest in the extensive endeavours made of late
years to diffuse the knowledge of the word of God,
and to promote the conversion of heathens and of
Jews, and liberally contributed to the advancement
of these great objects. But, in all her acts of bene-
ficence, she was exceedingly careful to avoid osten-
tation. She felt the obligation of that admonition
of our Lord, '* When thou doest thine alms, let not
thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth; that
thine alms may be in secret." From the most con-
scientious motives, she made it quite a system to
conceal her name, as often as it was practicable,
from those to whom she extended relief, or to whom
she remitted her contributions for any important
object.

It has been observed, that the graces of the Chris-
tian character are nearly allied. The fruits of
righteousness commonly grow in clusters. But what
particularly distinguished her, was that spiritual hu-
mility which deeply feels the depravity of our nature,
and the deceitfulness of our hearts, which sees the
emptiness and worthlessness of all human goodness,
and which reposes all its hopes on the atoning sacri-
fice and meritorious righteousness of Christ. This
was the principle that seemed to have habitually the
ascendant in her mind ; and it was the best of all
preparatives for a dying hour.

For the last ten years of her life, she was a widow ;
and as her children had been removed from under
her eye, she passed much of her time alone. The
same traits of character that marked the former

VOL. II. T

410 MEMOIRS OF

periods of her life, continued to distinguish her; s
dread of the temptations of the world, and of the
society of the ungodly; an affectionate esteem of
the people of God, yet, a frequent preference of re-
tirement to the company even of those whom she
approved ; a disposition to silence and to passive
waiting upon God ; an abstinence from the desire of
many things that are lawful ; a love of secrecy, not
only in her acts of charity, but in many of her ordi-
nary proceedings; a holy strictness of conversation;
and a spirit of watchfulness and prayer. Indeed,
throughout her whole life, her rehgion lay chiefly
between God and her own soul.

In referring to the period of her widowhood, it
would be doing injustice to her character to omit
mentioning a trial, of which she had some experience
in the former parts of her life, but was now made ta
taste all the bitterness. Though she was possessed
not only of good sense and prudence, (qualities in
which she was eminent,) but of singular tenderness
of conscience, exercising herself in this, " to have
always a conscience void of offence towards God and
towards man ;" and though, in cases of a competi-
tion of interests, she was particularly fearful of en-
croaching in the smallest degree on the rights of
others ; she did not altogether escape that " strife
of tongues,'' and those " hard speeches," with which
the most upright persons are often assailed. She
even had the hard fate to be the subject of reports
which affected the purity of her motives, and the
justice and impartiality of her conduct, in regard to
some important concerns. Her behaviour under
this very severe trial, exactly corresponded to the
character displayed in every part of her Diary : it
was a singular model of meek forbearance and
passive submission ; a striking example of that re-
signation which, recognising the hand of God in
the trials that proceed from man, commits its cause
to the Lord, and patiently waits for its sentence

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 411

from his mouth. With the most appropriate truth
she might have adopted the words of tiie Psalmist,
** I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because
Thou didst it." '^ I was as one that heareth not,
and in whose mouth are no reproofs.*' The trials
with which she was assailed, appear, with the
clearest evidence, to have operated like ** the refiner's
fire and the fuller's soap." They produced effects
the very opposite of those which trials of a similar
nature usually produce in unsanctified persons :
instead of irritating her pride by wounding it, they
led her to humble herself before that God to whose
providence she referred them, and taught her to be
particularly careful to exercise the utmost charity
in judging of the motives and conduct of others.
Indeed, of late years she was scarcely ever known
on any occasion to betray symptoms of anger or
resentment, or to utter an unkind word with respect
to those by whom she conceived herself injured.
Above all, her trials exercised her faith, quickened
her prayers, and promoted her habit of secret com-
munion with her God. The trials she met with in
youth, in her father's house, gave rise to many of
the most interesting exercises of her soul ; and the
greater trials she met with in after life, appear to
have been among the most remarkable means em-
ployed by Infinite Wisdom to wean her soul from
the world, and to promote her '* meetness for the
inheritance of the saints in light." It is commonly
found, that where great progress is made in the
Christian life, it is effected by means of sharp trials,
which require large supplies of grace from that God
who has said, ** As thy day is, so shall thy strength
be," and which keeps in vigorous exercise the grace
which his goodness supplies. We are certain that
she does not now regret her trials here, nor think
them too many.

For six months before her decease, she was sen-
sible of a decline in her health; and as death had

t2

412 MEMOIRS OF

been familiar to her thoughts, she readily admitted
a persuasion that it was near, though it was not till
a much later period that her friends felt any serious
alarm. When informed of the first severe attack
of her disease, the Writer of this memoir went to
visit her, with some apprehensions with respect to
the probable state of her mind. Knowing how deep
and affecting were her views of the majesty of God,
of the hatefulness of sin, and of the importance of
that change which fixes the soul in an everlasting
and unalterable state, he was afraid that the approach
of death might be peculiarly awful to her, and that
her mind might be subjected to disquieting appre-
hensions. But these fears were quickly removed.
Though aware of her danger, she was composed,
resigned, and even cheerful. She expressed her
humble trust in that Saviour, whose faithfulness she
had ever experienced, and who says to each of his
people, '^ I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."
In the progress of her disease, she enjoyed habitually
the same tranquillity of mind, and exercised the
same humble confidence in God. At one time only,
her mind seemed to sink under the weight of her
sufferings, and the awful anticipation of approaching
judgement ; but the conflict was of short continuance,
and she was enabled to resume the exercise of faith
and hope. She often spoke of eternity as a subject
which filled and overwhelmed her mind ; as a state
in the prospect of which, the world and all that it
contains, sank into utter insignificance.

She repeatedly remarked, that the more she knew
of her own heart on the one hand, and of the de-
mands of the Gospel on the other, she felt the more
how difficult it is to be a real Christian. She often
spoke affectionately to her children, exhorting them
to seek, above all things, the salvation of their souls,
and expressing her hope that they would ever
** dwell together in unity." Daring the sleepless
nio^hts that were appointed her, she employed herself

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 413

in meditating on the Scriptures, and in the exercise
of prayer. And it may not be amiss to notice, that
it was sometimes her employment to think over the
questions and answers of the Shorter Catechism, and
to convert them into subjects of prayer. On one
occasion, when she was speaking of the solemnity
and awfulness of death, a friend affectionately ob-
served, that the recollection of a life so watchful and
spiritual as hers, might surely afford her comfort in
the prospect of death. She replied with some
earnestness ; '' Alas ! my life has not been of that
description : I feel the necessity of looking entirely
away from myself to that fountain which is opened
for sin and uncleanness." Indeed, in the whole course
of her illness, the atoning sacrifice of Christ was the
sole stay and support of her soul. To this she
looked with the earnestness of an awakened soul
when first brought to a penitent sense of its sins ;
and such was her sense of her own imperfections,
that she would not admit of any allusion to her
attainments as a Christian. When her sister once
asked her, whether she thought that her disease
would issue in death, she answered, that that was
hid from her ; adding, *' The Lord's will be done."
At a somewhat later period, when I happened to be
alone with her, she observed, that her dear friends
still flattered themselves with the hope of her reco-
very, but that she was persuaded she should not
recover ; at the same time expressing her willingness
to resign herself to God, whether he chose to pro-
long her life, or to take her speedily to himself.

In the course of the last two or three days, she
rapidly declined, and was able to speak very little.
Though tried with much pain, and sinking under
accumulated diseases, she exercised an unwearied
patience; praying much herself, and often entreating
the prayers of her friends. In the evening preceding
her death, she desired her sister to read the last two
chapters of the Revelations ; after this had been

414 MEMOIRS OF

done, she repeated earnestly and affectionately,
*' Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." She then
desired that the xviith chapter of John's Gospel
might be read, and spoke with much interest on that
verse, *' Father, I will that they also whom thou hast
given me, be with me where I am, that they may
behold my glory." After prayer had been made in
her hearing, she expressed an anxiety lest her friends
should be injured by their unremitted attention.
Some time after, she again expressed her confidence
in the Great Physician of her soul. From this
period, about twelve at night, she continued with
little interruption in earnest prayer, in a voice for
the most part audible, till within a few moments of
her expiring pang, about three in the morning of
the 15th of August, 1811 ; maintaining to the last a
firmness of mind, a composure of soul, and a humble
confidence of hope, which entitle her death to be
ranked among the victories of the faith of Jesus.

In contemplating the death of martyrs, we are
struck with admiration at the grace given them, and
are confirmed in the faith for which they died; but
we seldom consider them as models for imitation,
since we are in little danger of ever being placed in
similar circumstances. But, in reviewing the death-
bed of a private Christian, we witness a scene which
speaks more directly to ourselves, which presents
circumstances in which we ourselves may soon be
placed, and which affords a model Vvhich we are
imperiously called on to be prepared to imitate.
And how can we be prepared to imitate the saints in
their death, but by diligently seeking that grace,
and faithfully practising those virtues, which cha-
racterized them in their fives ? " Precious in the
sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." " Be
not slothful, but followers of them who through faith
and patience inherit the promises."

MRS. ALTHENS. 415

MRS. MARGARET MAGDALENE ALTHENS.

Mrs. Althens, whose maiden name was Jasper,
was bom of respectable parents, but shared in the
vicissitudes so common in human life. Though
brought up with better expectations, she lived in
the capacity of a servant from October 1776, until a
few weeks before her marriage, which took place in
January, 1784. This humble situation, however,
was so sweetened to her by the light of God's
countenance, and so sanctified by the blessmg of
his Holy Spirit, that, in several parts of her Diary,
she expresses great thankfulness to God for those
dispensations of his providence, painful as they were
at the time, which rendered it necessary. She was
thereby secluded from many temptations and snares ;
and her state of dependence was not burdensome,
because she depended upon the Lord, whom she
served. We shall give her own account of her early
life and conversion, adding a few extracts from her
Diary; and subjoin four letters to her husband and
children, written to be delivered after her decease.

" I was born the 23d of July, 1752. I can remem-
ber to have had, from early infancy, serious impres-
sions of religion upon my soul. The awful thoughts
of heaven, hell, death, and eternity, engrossed much
of my attention. And I have often prayed, under
the most alarming sensations, for mercy.

*' My father died when I was two years and a half
old. My mother being a German, I was educated
in that language, as well as in my native tongue :
and in the fifteenth year of my age, I was confirmed
in the German chapel by the Rev. Dr. Wachsell. 1
must with gratitude acknowledge that he spared no
pains to instruct me in the great principles of religion.

416 MEMOIRS OF

But the endeavour of man cannot reach the heart,
unless influenced by the Spirit and power of God.
Though I was confirmed and admitted a member of
the congregation, I knew no more what a change
of heart meant, or an experimental knowledge of
Jesus Christ, than one who had never heard of him.

'' After an illness, from which the Lord was
pleased to raise me up, 1 went into the country to
my dear aunt's, for the benefit of the air. Soon after,
she had an invitation from Lady H to the open-
ing of the chapel at Tunbridge Wells ; and I, as
being with her, was invited likewise. This pleased
me, and I was some way happy in the thought of
going ; for though I made no profession of religion,
I felt at times a love for the ministers and people of
God.^'

While here, it appears that the writer was much
impressed with the sermons which she heard ; her
feelings were very powerfully excited, and she had, in
particular, a deep sense awakened of the love of God.
She returned to London, determining to lead a re-
ligious life. The account proceeds :

" I now read hymns, and endeavoured to learn
some by heart ; and fully resolved, thinking myself
sufficiently strong, that I would be very serious and
religious for the future. I thought I saw a beauty in
religion, and wished to be more acquainted with it.
On our way home, we dined at a house which had
pleasant fields behind it. I took my book in my
hand, and sought a retired place, to read and medi-
tate on the loving-kindness of God towards me.
And for the first time that I ever sincerely prayed, I
kneeled known, no eye seeing me, and earnestly
entreated that the Lord would give me grace and
strength to persevere in my resolution of devoting
myself to him, and that I might live and die in his
fear. I looked back upon my past life, and was
grieved to think that 1 had spent nearly sixteen years
in the service of Satan, and had been led captive by

MRS. ALTHENS. 417

him at his will. When I came home, I endeavoured
to set about the desirable reformation. I prayed
morning and evening, read the Bible, and outwardly
appeared very decent. I was much delighted in
going with my aunt to hear the preaching. But still
I knew nothing of what a change of heart meant. I
thought I had arrived at my highest attainment, and
that all was well : I had already established a righte-
ousness of my own, which I supposed was sufficient
to justify me before God.

** But the Lord soon gave me to see my mistake,

in hearing a sermon by Mr. W , from the words,

' Thy God thy glory,' Isaiah, Ix. 19. When he pointed
out the wretched state of sinners by nature, that
they have no power to help themselves, or to make
satisfaction for one sin, and that without the atone-
ment of Christ they cannot obtain pardon, my mind
was much agitated. I began to see that I had sinned
against a holy God, and was unable to offer resti-
tution. This filled my heart with sorrow and my
eyes with tears. Then was my former comfort
turned into the deepest gloom. I saw it was im-
possible to help myself; yet, I thought I had one
prop to support me, which was prayer. I wrestled
with the Lord for mercy, and when I had learned to
stammer a few broken accents, 1 was never happy
but when at a throne of orace. And though I could
say little more than ' God be merciful to me a sinner !'
I had sometimes a gleam of hope, that if I sought
him I should find him. This hope animated and
revived my drooping spirit."

Such is the account which Mrs. Althens gives of
her own conversion. Her mind was for some time
greatly agitated ; but at length, through conver-
sation with the minister on whom she attended, but
especially the study of the Bible, she was led to
take comfort in the cleansing efficacy of Christ's
blood, the sufficiency of his atonement, and the
freeness of his grace. This was in the year 1768.

T 5

418 MEMOIRS OF

The extracts from her Diary commence at a some-
what later period, and extend till within a few weeks
of her death.

'' January 18, 1776. This evening met with a
grievous trial. — But, hush! shall I dictate to the
Lord ? Forbid it, O my God ! May I be still, and
bow with humble submission : thou knowest what
is for my good. Thou hast not promised to exempt
me from trials, but to support me under them. What
most pained me, was, a slight from one to whom I
ever was a sincere friend, and whom I looked upon as
a friend to me. I did not deserve it at her hands, nor
could I have so treated my greatest enemy, if in my
situation. But I must not shew resentment ; 1 must
endeavour to overcome evil with good. O that the
forgiving, loving spirit of my blessed Lord and
Master may reign in my heart! May I live upon
him, and be content with every thing that befalls
me!"

" March 27. Walked in Westminster Abbey;
surveyed the sumptuous monuments containing the
remains of many whose names are enrolled in the
book of fame. But, alas ! what are they the better
if not found written in the Lamb's book of life?
What are the great v/arriors and captains, to the
happy souls who overcome the world, the flesh, and
the devil ^ These great conquerors could not con-
quer death ; but the Christian can triumph over it.
The believer's name is enrolled in the annals of hea-
ven. May mine be buried in silence here, so that it
be remembered there ! My utmost ambition is then
satisfied."

*^ November 4, 1780. The account I heard of my
dear brother's death, is confirmed. He was wounded
in an engagement, and carried on shore, where he
died, and was buried. I read the mournful news with
sensations which I cannot describe. O my dearest
brother ! why was I not with thee to perform the last
kind offices of life, to bathe thy bleeding wounds

MRS. ALTHENS. 419

with my tears, to wipe the clammy sweat from thy
face, and administer some consolation to thy droop-
ing spirit ? Who knows what were thy sufferings and
the anguish of thy soul in the last moments of thy
life? What tribute can I pay to thy memory, more
than wearing a mournful habit for thy sake, and
retaining thy image with the fullest impression upon
my heart? There thou shalt remain the subject of
my serious thoughts, and I will weep for thee in my
retired hours/'

" Dec. 31. Another year is gone. Lord, grant
me grace to give up all my concerns and my heart to
thee ! Pardon my many provocations and backslid-
ings, receive me graciously, and love me freely.
Sanctify all thy dispensations to me. Thou hast
lately cut off a right hand. Thou hast indeed
wounded me in a tender part ; but, as I trust it was
with a design to cure, though one whom I dearly
prized is gone, I will still say, ' Thy will, O Lord, be
done.'"

" March 21, 1781. The returning spring begins
to appear, the snow-drop shews its head, the violet
cheers us with perfume. The hedges and trees are
shooting forth their buds, and in a few weeks they
will be dressed in all their beauty ; and the pretty
birds, sheltered by their shade, will tune their notes
to their Creator's praise. Few are acquainted with
the real pleasure of a retired life in the country : I
would not exchange it for the most magnificent
palace, — for all the grandeur the world can bestow.
Here, my mind, free from the cares and hurries
of the world, can contemplate the wondrous works
of an Almighty hand. I prefer the beauties of the
early dawn, to the finest sight the art of man can
produce. How beautiful the streaks of gold which
tinge the clouds I Then the rising sun diffuses lustre
all around, and the damps and chills of the night
give place to the light and heat of the day. Come,
you pleasure-takers, who waste the day and great

420 MEMOIRS OF

part of the night in dissipation and folly ; leave
your downy pillows, and view the splendours of the
morning ! Creation, and all its works, fulfil the com-
inands of God, and nothing but order and regularity
is seen."

" February 1, 1782. Lord, pity the poor in this
sharp weather, and incline the rich to relieve them.
We have many noble charitable institutions ; but
still, were the one half of what is spent in folly and
dissipation, employed in these uses, how many sor-
rowful hearts, widows, and fatherless, would rejoice!
And what blessings would redound to the cheerful
giver! ' If ye have done it to one of the least of
these,' our Lord says, ' ye have done it unto me.'
What consolation in a dying hour, from a conscious-
ness, that time, talents, and fortune, were devoted to
his service ! Our good works will not recommend
us to the favour of God ; but, as evidences of our
love to him, they will meet with acceptance. Surely
they who love Christ, will love to tread in his steps ;
and he went about doing good to the bodies and
minds of sinners, and some of his greatest enemies
were partakers of his bounty. '^

'' May 10, 1784. How apt are the cares of this
world to draw the mind from heavenly things ! But
let me shake myself from the dust ; and may every
avenue of my heart be open to the impressions of
Divine grace, that I may be rooted and grounded in
the knowledge of my Saviour, My obligations to
him are very great, and still he daily affords me
new favours. The solicitude I feel to please a be-
loved husband, often upbraids me with the coolness
of ray affection to my great Husband, my Redeemer,
the Holy One of Israel. I cannot receive kindness
from my husband, without making all the return in
my power. My affection to him increases daily,
and I think that, to promote his good, I could part
with life. Can I feel thus towards a sinner like
myself, and be less sensibly influenced by the good-

MRS. ALTHENS. 421

ness of my Creator? Oh the frailty of the human
heart !"

" December 8, 1787. And is she indeed departed,—
my aunt, my dearest, most valued friend ? It is too
true. Can my tears soon cease to flow for her, who
has em|3hatically been more than a mother to me?
Every thing that bears a resemblance of goodness in
me, I first derived from her. She was the instructor
of my infant mind, and taught me early to reverence
my Maker, and to attempt the paths of religion. It
was through her, I first had the privilege of hearing
the blessed gospel. But I shall see her no more in
this world. How did she, with uplifted eyes, breathe
out her requests to the Lord, for blessings upon me
and mine ! Never can I forget her kindness to me
in my last lying-in ; with what affection she spoke,
when she was brought into my room, and hov/ she
prayed over me and the dear babe ! O my beloved
aunt, many an hour shall be consecrated to thy
memory ! Very pleasant thou wast to me in life ;
and death, I trust, shall not long divide us. She
breathed her last yesterday, the 7th, in the 85th
year of her age. Her sufferings in her last illness
were great. She prayed for support, and was
answered. From the time she was taken ill, to her
death, she was a pattern of patience. Not one com-
plaining word dropped from her lips. A few hours
before she died, she took my hand, and lookino?
around earnestly, cried, in a seeming ecstasy,
* There they all stand !' But her speech faltered,
and she could add no more. I apprehend, that (like
Elisha's servant) she saw the angels who were wait-
ing to convoy her spirit to the regions of peace and

joy."

" May 19, 1789. As many of my friends wish me

to have the advice of Dr. M , I have this day

applied to him. He apprehends that I have not
been rightly treated, and that I may yet recover ;
as he thinks my disorder is not a consumption, but

422 MEMOIRS OF

a great inward weakness, owing to my having
suckled my child too long. I have put myself
under his care. I hope I can adopt the language
of Dr. Young :

* Come life, or death, is equal ; neither weighs.
All weight in this — Oh 1 let me live to thee/ "

*' May 26. One affliction seldom comes alone.
My eldest child is so exceedingly ill, that I fear his
life is in danger. But if the Lord should be pleased
to take him, I feel myself perfectly resigned to his
will. There is little prospect of my living to see
him brought up; and it will be a matter of joy, to
think that his course is so soon finished, and that he
has gained the prize of victory, without entering
upon the field of battle."

" June 13. I am still under the care of a phy-
sician, but he gives me no hope. Indeed, it would
be both cruel and in vain to flatter me now ; for
my own weakness informs me that I am going
apace. I bless my God, I can now say. Thy will
be done ! I can give up my dear husband and
children, with every earthly connexion, into his
hands. He will take care of them. My husband's
trial is great. I feel more for him than for myself.
But Heaven will make amends for all ! Oh, how
I pant and thirst for the happy hour, when my
Father will send his angels to convoy my spirit to
rest !

'^ There remaineth a rest for the people of God.
I know that my Redeemer liveth. O death, where
is thy sting? Henceforth there is laid up for me a
crown of righteousness ! When I walk through the
valley, I will fear no evil : thy rod and thy stafl:'
comfort me. Blessed are the dead which die in the
Lord !

" I bless God, I have not one fear concerning
dying. That Almighty Lord who has so wonder-
fully preserved me to the present moment, will not

MRS. ALTPIENS. 423

forsake me in my last extremity. No ; when flesh
and heart fail. He will be the strength of my heart,
and my portion for ever.

'And will Jehovaii condescend
To be my Father and my Friend ?
Then let my songs with angels join ;
Heaven is secure if God is mine !*"

These last paragraphs, dated the 1 3th June, were
found upon a detached piece of paper, and were pro-
bably the last she ever wrote. She expired on the
28th July, 1789, aged thirty-seven years.

LETTERS

WRITTEN TO HER HUSBAND AND CHILDREN.

Letter to her Husband, No. I.

MY MOST DEARLY BELOVED !

I frequently hear of the death of one and another
in child-bed, which fills my mind with apprehensions;
for what am I better than they, that I should expect
more favour from the Lord ?

The sun of prosperity has shone upon me for five
years, and I have been blessed with one of the best
of husbands, which makes the thought of the parting
stroke most sensibly painful to me. If it were not for
the great realities of religion, I could not give up the
beloved of my heart. AH the powers of my soul are
at work, when I think what your feelings will be in
the trying hour of separation. But, my dearest,
grieve not as without hope. When a few more years
have finished their course, I trust, through the merits
of the great Redeemer, that we shall have a happy
meeting in our heavenly Father's house. Then, part-
ing, sighs, and tears shall be no more. Then, 1 hum-
bly hope, we shall be for ever united in singing the
song of Moses and the Lamb.

The Almighty, who, by a chain of providences
brought us together, and only lent me to you for a

424 MEMOIRS OF

short space, has an undoubted right to recall me
when he pleases. Very pleasant hast thou been to
me in life, and in death we shall not be divided.
You will shed a tear to my memory, when you reflect
on the many, yea, I may say, very many happy
hours we have spent, and the endearing conveisation
we have had together. But the subject is too
delicate, I must not dwell on it. Those seasons are
now past. They are vanished like the morning cloud
or early dew. Nothing now presents itself to me,
but sorrow, anguish, weeping friends, the gloomy
appendages of death, and an opening grave.

This is a dreary prospect ; but, blessed be God,
here it ends. Beyond the grave, the scenes are
bright and happy. My reconciled God in Christ
Jesus will receive me, place a crown of glory upon
my head, and fix my abode for ever among the sons
of light. Angels wait their commission to conduct
me to the New Jerusalem above, when, with a golden
harp and a palm of victory, I shall shine a monument
of mercy.

There I shall wait the happy period of your arrival.
Let this consideration restrain your tears, — your sin-
cerely affectionate wife is not dead, but sleepeth.
You may commit my body to the ground, in sure and
certain hope of a joyful resurrection. When you are
performing the last kind offices of affection, I shall
be rejoicing before the throne of God, drinking of
the rivers of pleasure that are at his right hand.

If I should leave a helpless infant, you will take
care of it, and let it be brought up with the rest, in
the nurture and admonition of the Lord. I am not
solicitous to have my children great, but it is my
earnest wish and prayer that they may be good. My
beloved, press forward ; a glorious prize awaits you.
Be faithful unto death, and you shall obtain it. If
you see me in my coffin, rejoice over me, and say.
What was mortal, the worms shall destroy ; but her

MRS. ALTHENS. 425

soul, arrayed in the robe of the Redeemer's righte-
ousness, lives, to die no more. Death is swallowed
up in victory. We fall, we rise, we reign !

May the God of my youth, the protector of my
advancing years, and the support of my now declin-
ing days, keep you under the shadow of his Almighty
wings ! May he be your guard and guide through
life, your comfort in the hour of dissolution, and
your portion and happiness throughout the ages of
eternity !

Your affectionate wife, in life and death,

M. M. A.

Letter to her Husband, No. II.

MY MOST DEARLY BELOVED !

When you are reading these lines, there will be
nothing left of me but a cold lump of clay. I bless
God for having heard and answered my prayer ; for,
you know, I have often expressed a desire that my
immortal spirit might take its flight before yours.
Long may you live for the sake of your dear family,
to bring them up in the fear of the Lord ! Let me
entreat you not to sorrow as one without hope, for be
assured that I am happy. I know that the enormous
account of my sins is blotted out by the precious
blood of my crucified Redeemer, who came into the
world to call, not the righteous, but such sinners as I
am, to repentance ; and he has declared, that where he
is, his people shall also be. So that I am only trans-
planted from the church militant, into the church
triumphant, to join with that general assembly in
praising the riches of redeeming grace and dying
love.

I hope you have no doubt of the sincerity of my
affection to you. Heaven is my witness, that your
temporal and spiritual welfare has been the subject
of my incessant prayers ; and, I trust, they will be
answering when 1 am sleeping in the dust. If the
disembodied spirits may be favoured with the know-

426 MEMOIRS OF

ledge of things done below, and still interested in the
concernments of their dear relatives, as 1 have some
reason to think they v^'ill, — how gladly shall 1 accept
the pleasing employ of attending you as an invisible
guardian-angel, to warn you of dangers, and lend
you aid in every season of distress ! My first care
should be, to wipe the tears from your beloved
cheek, to soothe the wound my removal has made,
and to help you to triumph over your loss with the
fortitude and resignation becoming you as a child of
God.

Time is short: in a few revolving years, at most,
your silver cord of life will be loosed, and your golden
bowl broken. Then, when every earthly comfort shall
fade, you will know the worth of redemption by the
sufferings and death of the Son of God. Oh, that
when flesh and heart shall fail, you may find him
your strength and portion ! If so, what a joyful
meeting shall we have, to part no more, in his pre-
sence, where there is fulness of joy, and where all
tears shall be wiped away !

I thank you for all the kindness you have shewn
to me, a most unworthy creature. You have indeed
been a tender and affectionate husband to me. in
you I have found a bosom friend, and my cares have
been reposed in your beloved breast. My earthly
happiness has been too great. I acquiesce. He who
gave me life, has a right to take it. I go to perma-
nent happiness without alloy, where sorrow can find
no entrance.

And now, with all the solemn appendages of death
in my view, — the gloomy grave, and an eternal world,
into which I am about to enter, I lift up my hands in
supplication for you. May the blessings of the eter-
nal Jehovah rest upon you ! May his presence be
your light and your strength, to direct and support
you through all the changes of this mortal life ! And
when you are bidding adieu to all in this world, may
his Almighty arm be your defence, and may his

MRS. ALTHENS. 427

heavenly messengers convey your departing spirit to
the unsullied regions of eternal peace ! Adieu ! till
we meet to part no more. The Lord bless you !

Your affectionate wife,

M. M. A.

Letter to her Husband's Two Children hy a former Wife,

MY DEAR FREDERICK AND CHARLES !

The ties of relation between us are broken, and
you will see her no more, who has very imperfectly
fulfilled to you the duty of a mother-in-law. How-
ever, I would hope that some of the instructions
you have received from me, will make an abiding
impression upon your minds.

I now address you in the sacred language of
Scripture, '^ Remember thy Creator in the days of
thy youth." It is recorded to the honour of king
Josiah, that he sought his God while he was yet
young. Samuel, likewise, was called early to acknow-
ledge the God of his fathers. These instances are
left upon record for our instruction and encourage-
ment, that we should go and do likewise. And God
has said, '* They that seek me early shall find me."
By seeking the Lord in early life, you will escape
many temptations that you will otherwise be ex-
posed to. Do you ask me how you are to seek him ?
Read the Bible with attention, and pray over it. The
path you are to walk in, will then appear more and
more plain.

Believe in that Almighty Being, who created the
world and all things in it ; who gave you your birth,
and has preserved you to the present moment ; and
who will, if you confide in him, not only support and
guide you through life, but will be your strength and
portion in the hour of dissolution, when flesh and
heart shall fail.

Believe in his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who
condescended to take our nature upon him, and to

428 MEMOIRS OF

die for our sins, that we might die unto sin, and live
to the praise and glory of his holy name. He who is
THE TRUTH, has declared, that whosoever believeth
in him, shall be saved, — shall live for ever.

Believe in the Holy Spirit, who will enlighten
your understanding, instruct you in the ways of
true religion, and enable you by a life and conver-
sation agreeable to your profession, to adorn the
doctrine of God our Saviour in all things. But *' if
any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of
his.*' It is the religion of the gospel alone, my dear
children, that can regulate your affections, refine
your tempers, and make you appear amiable in the
sight of men. For then they must admire your con-
duct, even if they disapprove of your singuleirity.
For a Christian must be singular, because his walk
is not with man, but with God. Let me therefore
entreat you to be faithful to God, even unto death,
and he will give you a crown of life.

And now, my dear Frederick, T request you to
behave with dutiful respect to your honoured father.
He has been a good father to you. Endeavour to
alleviate his present affliction, by the utmost atten-
tion to his person and business. And if you see him
wear the aspect of sorrow, desire him not to grieve
for me, but rather to rejoice that 1 am delivered from
the miseries of mortality, and have my fixed abode
with the saints in light.

And now, my dear children, I bid you, for a time,
farewell. That God may be your guide and pro-
tector in youth, and to the end of life, is the dying
prayer of

Your affectionate mother,

M.M. A.

MRS. ALTHENS. 429

Letter to her own Three Children.

MY DEARLY BELOVED ANDREW-HENRY,
WILLIAM, AND GEORGE !

When you are capable of reading these Hnes, the
hand that wrote them will be mouldered into dust.
If God had prolonged my life, it would have been
my delight to have instructed you in his fear, and to
have cultivated in your infant hearts, reverence and
gratitude to your Creator.

But the Almighty, who cannot err, for wise ends,
has appointed a separation. He is about to take me
from this vale of sin and misery, to celebrate his
praise, and to admire his glorious perfections, in his
heavenly kingdom. I cannot leave the world with-
out bequeathing to my beloved children a few in-
structions, as my dying advice ; which, so far as they
are agreeable to the word of God, 1 humbly beseech
him to give them grace to value.

You have a father, who, I am sure, loves you, and
if it please God to spare his life, will do his utmost
to have you brought up in the Christian religion, —
a blessing for which you can never be sufficiently
thankful. I entreat you, yea, I charge you, as you
shall answer it at the dreadful day of judgment, that
you love and serve your God in sincerity and truth ;
otherwise, she who brought you into the world with
sorrow, will, at last, rejoice in your just condemna-
tion.

I admonish you to love the Bible, to read it with
attention, and pray God to enlighten your under-
standing, that you may know and approve the glori-
ous truths which that blessed book contains. To
reading, add meditation. Do not read it as a history,
in which you are no way concerned ; but remember,
it is the word of Him who is not a man like yourself.
It is the word of a God who is perfect and holy in all
his ways. It is the book by which your heart and
actions will be tried. Try yourself by it repeatedly.

430 MEMOIRS OF

and endeavour to make yourself well acquainted with
its contents. It is recorded to the honour of that
eminent Christian youth, King Edward the Sixth,
that if at any time he let the Bible fall, he would
take it up with reverence and concern, as having
treated the word of his Creator with disrespect.

But, my dear children, to reading and meditation
you must add fervent prayer. Consider yourselves,
as you really are, sinners, by nature and practice. In
sin you were conceived and brought forth. By the
disobedience of one man, sin entered the world, and
death by sin, as you may read in the third chapter of
Genesis. But, ** by the obedience of one, many are
made righteous." This one, who took compassion
on Adam's lost race, is no other than the Son of God,
who dwelt, from eternity, in the bosom of his Father.
This Prince of Peace was the sinner's only friend,
who gave his life a sacrifice for sin. He gave his life
a sacrifice for you, my dear children, if you do but
believe in him. Oh, reject him not, but give up
yourselves a willing sacrifice to his service ! You
will find his ways to be ways of pleasantness, and
all his paths, peace ; a peace which the world knows
nothing of, which it can neither give nor take away.

I entreat you to honour and obey your dear father.
'' Honour your father and mother, is the first com-
mandment, with promise." And the apostle says,
'' Children, obey your parents in all things." I do
not mean only, that you are to obey his commands ;
you ought likewise always to reverence his person
and character, and make his interest the object of
your attention. Should you be intrusted with the
concerns of his business, punctually fulfil the trust
reposed in you, with diligence, alacrity, and de-
light. Ingratiate yourself into his favour by the
most endearing and observant behaviour; and al-
ways, whether in his presence or absence, behave
towards him with that respect which is due.

If he should again enter into the marriage state, I

MRS. ALTHENS. 431

lay it as an injunction upon you, that you treat your
mother-in-law with dutiful respect. Try to win her
affections ; and if you gain them, make it your study
to secure them.

Love your brothers. You are the youngest in the
family, therefore it is your place to submit to them.
Let not envy or malice reign in your hearts ; but
endeavour to live in peace and harmony with each
other. Thus shall you be blessed of the Lord, and
be made a comfort to the family to which you are
united.

Again, I entreat you to be lowly in heart and life.
Pride banished angels from happiness in heaven, to
the lowest depths of misery in hell. The Scripture
declares, that " whoever exalteth himself shall be
abased, but whoever humbleth himself shall be ex-
alted.'' A proud person is an ignorant one. Seek,
therefore, of the Lord the true knowledge of yourself,
and then be proud if you can. Imitate the character
of our Lord and Master, and you will be a pattern of
humility. Despise not the poor, but administer to
their necessities as far as you are able. Save your
pocket-money, and dedicate it to the Lord's poor ;
and he will abundantly repay you. A cup of cold
water, given in the name of a disciple, shall not lose
its reward.

Love retirement, and be more fond of being alone,
than of letting your tongnie run in company. Thus
you will improve your mind, and be qualified to act
either in pubhc or in private life.

Love your enemies, if you should have any. Be
not bitter against them : if you cannot turn their
hearts, 'pray for them. In this way you will heap
coals of fire upon their heads, and constrain them to
admire your conduct.

Follow not the vanities of the present age. I
charge you not to love the card-table, nor to fre-
quent play-houses, balls, assemblies, or any of the
scenes of dissipation, by which, as by so many baits.

432 MEMOIRS OF

Satan takes advantage to entangle deluded mortals.
These amusements will afford you no comfort in a
dying hour. Resist the devil, therefore, and he will
flee from you. Wear the sword of the Spirit, the
word of God, in your own defence, and keep it bright
by repeated use ; and then you need not fear either
the displeasure of men or the rage of devils ; ^' for
who is he that can harm you, if you are followers of
that which is good ?"

Be not ashamed of the cross of Christ ; it is the
Christian's glory ; it is the power of God unto salva-
tion. But " whoever will live godly in Christ Jesus,
must suffer affliction." Love the people of God, and
cultivate an acquaintance with them. They are the
excellent of the earth, and it is for their sakes that
the world is upheld. But, my dear children, you
must not consider all those as the people of Christ,
who make profession of his name. He had but
twelve apostles, and one of them was a devil. Many
call him Lord, to promote their own ends, to whom,
in the great day, he will say, " Depart from me, I
never knew you." Be not content with the shell, but
seek for the kernel of true Christianity. Let redeem-
ing love be the principal object of your study. Search
for those treasures of wisdom and knowledge, which
the angels desire to look into. This happy know-
ledge will qualify you, if not for offices and dignities
upon earth, for a most honourable advancement in
heaven. Contemplate the perfections of the Son of
God. An habitual remembrance of his agonies and
dying love, will be as a golden altar, whence you may
take a coal to enkindle the sacred flame of love in
your own breast.

Love the house and public worship of God, — that
you may say, with David, " My soul longeth, yea,
even fainteth for the courts of the Lord. I had
rather be a door-deeper in the house of my God,
than dwell in the tents of wickedness.*' Go not
with unhallowed lips into the sanctuary, but let your

MRS. ALTHENS. 433

heart and voice join in singing the Saviour*s praise.
Keep the Lord's day holy ; let no work be done by
you in it, but what is absolutely necessary, and such
as you will be able to answer for at the great day ; 1
mean, especially, when you shall be your own masters.
Devote the Lord's-day to religious exercises, to pub-
lic worship, private reflection, reading, and to earnest
prayer for yourself, your family and friends, the nation
to which you belong, and the world at large. Pray
for that happy time when the kingdoms of the world
shall become the kingdoms of the Lord and of his
Christ. Be not fond of visiting on this holy day, but
rather of retirement. Every Lord's-day thus sancti-
fied, will promote your advantage and comfort in
time, and your meetness for the eternal Sabbath.

I have one thing more to add. I was always fond
of writing, from a child. And when the Lord, in
mercy, was pleased to awaken me from the careless-
ness of my natural state, and to shew me that nothing
short of himself could make me happy, a dear minis-
ter, to whom I have been indebted for many spiritual
benefits, advised me to set down remarks on the state
of my mind, from time to time. I have followed his
advice, and it has been attended with a great bless-
ing to me. Yea, in this sweet employment I have
spent many a pleasant hour, when thousands were
sleeping in their beds.

The manuscripts I have by me, I leave them as
a present to my beloved children. Read them with
attention. They contain nothing but simplicity, and
I trust, truth. They are not adorned with elegant
language. That was not my aim, as they were written
for my own use, and chiefly when I was under the
afflicting hand of my merciful heavenly Father, whose
ways are in the deep waters, but who, in the end, doth
all things well.

I would wish you, my children, in this particular to
follow my example. Be not fearful of undertaking it.
I began in much timidity, but the Lord strengthened

VOL. H. u

434 MEMOIRS, &C.

me. So he will you, if you conlide in him, and if
your motive is disinterested. I have often thought
of correcting the whole, but have not had time ;
otherwise you would have seen it in a better garb.
You will find likewise some thoughts and reflections,
which I began, but which also, for want of time, I
have left unfinished. These I likewise recommend
to your perusal, and wish you to complete them.
Ana I pray the Lord to afford his blessing.

And now, my dear and much loved children,
nothing remains but to bid you a last farewell.

May the blessing of the God of Abraham, the
God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, rest upon you !
May he pour plentifully into your hearts the riches of
his grace, that you may grow up as the cedars of
Lebanon ! May you be trees of righteousness, of the
Lord's own planting ! May you be adorned with
every grace of the Holy Spirit, that all around you
may see that you belong to Jesus! May your will
be sweetly sunk in the will of God ! May you be
sincere penitents, true converts, and sound believers!
May you be dead to the world and all things in it,
and your life hid with Christ in God !

At length may you finish your course with joy !
When dying pangs come upon you, when death's cold
sweat bedews your face, and the soul sits, as it were,
upon the quivering lips, ready to take its everlasting
flight, may you then, rejoicing in the Redeemer's
complete atonement, and triumphing over death and
his sting, be conducted by angels to the bright realms
of eternal day ! There I trust to meet you, and the rest
of our dear family, and to unite with you in admiring
and praising the adorable perfections of our God and
Saviour. Till that blessed period, adieu.

Your aff'ectionate mother,

M. M. A.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

PRINTED BY J. MOVES, GREVILLE STREET, LONDON.

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