A plea for the West : a sermon preached before the Missionary Society of the Synod of South-Carolina & Georgia, in Augusta, November 21, 1824

\

¥t

^^

k

&.

«

THE FEMAIiE Z.ABOUREB UT THE VINSTARS.

if^!^i;&iv,lL !E)!!S(gS)WS^£l6

OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF

MISS ELIZABETH ROBERTSON.

PREACHED IN THE SECOND PRESBYTERIAN CBURCR,

CHARLESTON, AUGUST 26, 1827,

BY

T. CHARZ.TOK HEKTRIT, D. I>.

CHARLESTON :

OBSERVER OFFICE PRESS.

1827.

The following brief discourse was not designed for
the Press. The author^ who has not time to enlarge or cor-
rect it, has permitted a Relative of the deceased, at his ear-
nest and repeated request, to print — not to publish — a feiv
copies of it.

8ERMON.

REV. XIV : 13.

It was a direct communication from on
High by which the languag;e in our text was

given " / heaid a voice from Heaven^ saying

itnto ?ne, blessed are the dead which die in the
Lord, from henceforth : yea, saith the Spirit, that
they may rest from their labours ; and their works
do follow ihe^n.^^ It was the harvest cry. The
note of preparation for the thrusting in of the
sickle. It was for the reaping of the earth : for
the gathering into Heaven's garner, in the end

of the days. *' fFrite /" — that it may be a

matter of record — that Saints to come, may read
and know, and understand. ♦' Write*^ — that
* they who die in the service of the Lord are
blessed.' Record it — that * they shall rest from
their labours of love, and from their toil and their

4

care.' And write the confirmation of the great
Sanctifier of licarts — " yea, saitli the Spirit.^^

Brethren, there is much that is discriminating
in my text. It speaks of peace, and rest, and
glory, when it announces the blessedness of the
accepted of God. It tells the shout of welcome
that hails the adopted soul. But it refers to that
soul, as one who died in the service of the Most
High ; and whose works were those of a co-
worker with God. It is not the transition from
worldliness to spirituality. It is not the ascent
of one reeking from the pleasures and hopes of
the earth.

Oh if there be much that is cheering in the
lofty promises of Him who '' tasted death," that
man condemned might live, there is much, too,
that renders them a pausing ground, where each
should stand, and ask, " Lord is it I ?" And
where each has an issue between his conscience
and his soul.

The suitableness of the language before us to
the subject of a Funeral occasion, will distinctly
appear in its application.

Who has not felt in the departure of the Chris-
tian, that when the Funeral obsequies are over,
and the dust has been committed to its mingling,
and a brief period has passed between us and
the act, there is a breathing time, in which the

impulses of passion subside ? We look around,
and there is a sensation of loneliness. \Vc enter
into scenes of activity again ; and the duties
wliich the departed used to perform, are to be
accomplished by some one else ; and the burden
becomes heavy in its admonitions of our loss.
We remember the offices he sustained, and he
dies afresh in our sight, every time we look for
a supply. There were certain cares he under-
took— and when we ask, * who shall sustain
them ?' the breaches arc muhiplied. A new di-
vision of duties ensues. — And as they arc taken
up, the memory of the departed becomes more
faint ; and all that remains of him that we loved,
is the soft light of his recollected example, that
keeps its influence when the exemplar is gone.

Such is the general tale of even the pious dead.
The places that knew them, know them no
more : and they sink back, and blend with the
confused shadows of the past.

It is at such breathing time, as that I have
mentioned, that we have now arrived after the
decease of a Christian Sister. We are to fdl up
the breaches which her departure has occasion-
ed— a task we shall imperfectly accomplish. But
we have to do more than this. The providence
which called her away is not merely one which
leads us to contemplate the j)ast : it bids us look

to the future. It proposes the Prophet's question
with personal application — " Watchman, what
of the night ?" It asks where, and who, and what,
are we ? It is not a fruitless ebullition of sor-
row that we are called to offer. All afflictions
that end here are covered with the frown of
Heaven. It is an admonition penned by inspi-
ration itself, — " in the day of adversity, consi-
der."

Aware that the points of our consideration are
both numerous and full, when one who held an
eminent and active station in our society has
left us, I will select a single subject of serious
ponderins;. And it shall be one of which the

particulars in our text remind us. Oh, I know

too well that the lugubrious images of death sel-
dom produce a permanent benefit. I know that
the scenes of a death houi', and the mournful
rites of a Juneral, rarely reach deep into the
heart of the impenitent sinner ; or, 1 might say,

as far as my own observation has extended

never. Such an effect is within the circle of
possibilities, I am ready to admit. But that
circle is small. Any effect here, which bears a
remote resemblance to spiritual good, is that of
the Law, and not of the Gospel. It is the weak-
est tendency of the Law. It is an exhibition of
its penalty. It alarms, and it grieves. But it

does not even convince of sin. It reaches no
|)rinciple in the heart of such a survivor — for
there is none to be reached. It opens the foun-
tains of tears, and they wash away the lesson
that was faintly written ; and the sinner returns
to his idols again. Our world abounds with
monuments of this truth : and more than one be-
fore me, may say — " it is /." And then for the
Christian — it is something beyond the assurance
of his mortality he is to learn If he be remind-
ed of the blessedness of the " dead who die in the
Lord," he is taught, likewise, to scrutinize his
own title to a hope so elevated ; to examine the
moving springs of his life, and to improve from
human examples, in all that resembled his as-
cended Redeemer.

The blessedness of the Christian is obviously
connected with his services : Such is the inti-
mation of our text. Not that these services pos-
sess merit in themselves : but that so far as they
exist, — so (ar as they arise from purity of motive,
they indicate a holiness of disposition, and a de-
sire for the glory of God. One of the first questions
which the Redeemer asked after his resurrection
was, " lovest thou me V and he told the evidence
of that love, when he enjoined an active and
practical benevolence— a spirit of operative obe-
dience.

8

The subject, then, before us, may be comprised

in a few words The Female J labourer in

THE Vineyard of God : a title which, without
invidious reflections, might have been justly ap-
plied to Elizabeth Robertson.

I am not ignorant that at the present day,
when schemes of benevolence are extending far
and wide, and the young and the old are acting
in concert ; when the tenderer sex not only as-
sociate to promote the knowledge of the truth,
but have sealed ii with their own life's blood

among the Heathen ; in such a period of

the world as this, I am not ignorant that the
voice of opposition has been frequently heard
against all measures of female benevolence. It
is not seldom said, in the utterings of such op-
position, that there is a departure from a proper
sphere ; that there is an unfeminine agency — that
that there is an assumption of a province which
belongs to others — and a bold intermeddling, un-
becoming the sex. But in all this, there is either
a latent enmity to the Gospel itself, or there is
an ignorance of the truth that is lamentable in-
deed. The Word of God is strenuous in insist-
ing on the discharge of social and domestic du-
ties : and yet do we know that females ranked
among the disciples of Christ : that they were,
in their own departments, assistant labourers

vitli the Apostles : that the Apostles speak ol
them as such : that they contributed of their time
and their means, to promote the furtherance of
the Gospel. We know, too, that when all this
ceased to be, superstition had marred the purity
of the truth. These are memorable facts, which
Scripture, and the history of the Church, have set
out in full relief.

We go further than this : We say that wherever
the light of the Gospel has most fully shone, there
the female is the most fit companion of her hus-
band, the best instructor of his children, and the
useful member of society. Where that light does
not shine, there is she proportionably degraded,
from the rank of companion, to the station of
vassalage. A debtor for all the high privileges
she possesses, to the influence of Christianity ; or
the most unhappy of sufferers, in its absence.

1 know that the answer to all this is not so
much in sober reasoning as in sarcasm. — -
But ridicule is not argument ; and yet it is here
the weapon in ordinary use. And I have thought
that the sneer against one engaged actively in the
cause of Jehovah — directing her energies to the
very point to which the Holy Spirit is looking —
while no domestic duty was omitted — might
well induce an Angel to cover his face with his

3

10

mantle to hide his sorrow, for the freaks of the
thoughtless.

It is where there is imprudence, — it is where
there is a perversion — it is where there is a
forgetfulness of delicacy of character — it is
where there is officiousness and presumption —
that censure should light. But never where
deportment and conduct are consistent with the
dignity of a Christian Female.

The rest is plain : that every one of us is call-
ed into a scene of activity : that we shall be sum-
moned to give an account of the talents entrust-
ed to our care, whatever they may be ; and that
a positive and imperative precept it is, " whoso-
ever knovveth to do good and doeth it not, to him
it is 5ZW."

If these positions, then, be just, we shall not
be ill occupied in considering the sphere of duty
in which our departed friend was accustomed to
move.

I. She ivas active in those benevolent institutions
in ivhich it was in her power to be useful. The
inquiry with the sincere Christian is not respect-
ing his convenience in connexion with his plea-
sures ; not how far this or that employment may
suit his taste ; but simply how far good may be
achieved. There are many who are willing to
lend their aid to works of benevolence, provided

11

pleasure or amusement may be connected with
them. Tlierc are many who, for tlie sake of so-
cial intercourse, are willing to unite in the same.
But it is a lamentable truth, that there are very
many, whose first question in every opportunity
of promoting the advancenicnt of Christianity,
is, how far it will interfere with temporal and
unnecessary pursuits ? how far it will lay a res-
traint on other gratifications ? and who, there-
fore, the moment they ascertain that some degree
of self-denial is demanded, consider . themselves
absolved from all obligations. " There is a lion
in the way," saith the child of indolence. " It
interferes whh other pursuits," says the luke-
warm professor of religion " It demands a sa-
crifice too costly," says the selfish. " It encroach-
es too much on both time and thought," says the
inconsiderate. " It is requiring more than 1 see
many others do," says the half-convinced and
reluctant.

Oil, how easily we forget the first principles of
true religion ! The precepts of self denial arc a
fable in the sijiht of many. The value of an
immortal soul is forgotten— or sinks into a petty
trifle, not worth the sacrifice of a little hour.
Thus are there many in every community, who
swell their own self gratification into a matter of
more worth than the glory of God, or the good of

12

an undying spirit. Many, wlio while they profess
to love Him who gave himself for them, bid him
carry on his own cause, while an example of the
most practical selfishness forms a barrier to its
progress. Would that all such might remem-
ber— a true love of duty gives an inclination to
discharge it. And where that love exists, duty
is the first point consulted ; where it does
not exist, sinful inclinations decide. The con-
science is satisfied ; because it is searing under a
wilful neglect. The worlding lives for himself
under the cloak of a profession — buries the ta-
lents committed to his care ; and fearlessly pas-
ses on to the reckoning that awaits him. That
precept which we have already quoted, if he dared
ponder it well, would tingle in his ears. "He
that knoweth to do good, and doclh it not, to
him it is sin." Alas, what arrears of iniquity,
then, are there against many of us ! It is sin
that destroys our peace. It is sin that prevents
our enjoyment. What wonder, then, that thou-
sands who complain of the want of pleasure in
devotion, utter such complaint, while they keep
up the transgressions of neglect : Shew me ar-
dent piety, and I will shew you activity in the
cause of the Saviour. Shew me enjoyment in
religion ; and I will shew you a temper that looks

IS

around to ask, '• Lord what will thou have me to
do ?'' and that, on the first discovery of duty, f2;ocs
forward to discharge it.

I have rarely seen an example in which this
truth u as better exemplified than in our lamen-
ted friend : She entered rashly into nothing.
She pondered well the proposals (or institutions
of active benevolence. She examined their bear-
ing and consequences. She endeavoured to as-
certain all that prospectively related to them. —
4nd having done this, she never shrunk fi'om
lending her own efforts of time, property, and
influence. From that Sabbath School, in which
she held so prominent a station, — through other
societies, in which she was a judicious and ac-
tive officer, — her name will long be remembered
with Christian affection, and unqualified respect.
Her monument is in the hearts of all who asso-
ciated with her there. And it needs no flatterino-
inscription to remind us of who and what she
was.

II. The active benevolence of the departed
was STABLE. Stability is the soul of princi-
ple. It is the test of sincerity. It is the evi-
dence of e^cnuine devotedness. There arc those
who are vyilling enough to enter into new schemes
with eagerness and alacrity : Yet who, when
the novelty is vvorne off, suffer their zeal to wear

14

away with it. And infectious and chilling as
langour is, they impart the coldness of their re-
missness and neglect to others around them. It
is emphatically said, that " one sinner destroyeth
much good." AVith equal emphasis, it may be
affirmed, that one undecided and vacillating pro-
fessor of religion carries a pestiferous influence
into the circle in which he moves. Oh, how
easily we forget that a work undone may, with-
out our consciousness, be a work of evil, with all
its contemplated and intended good I We are
indeed to count the cost of our attem.pts, as we
are that of our profession : But we are to re-
member that abandoning a building which we
have begun, entails dishonour on ourselves, and
injury to others.

It is indeed a promise of ineffable mercy by
which a crown is tendered to the Christian.—
But that promise is enriched when we remember
that the Redeemer is pledged to aid us in
our endeavouring to win it. And yet that crown
is to be conferred only on a most important
condition — a condition which is never to be se-
parated from it — it is this : " be thou faithful
unto death." Not a fidelity which is waver-
ing : not a zeal that is fitful in its works : not a
benevolence that is freakful : but regular in their
agency, the offspring of principle : in their per-

15

mancncy rosembling that affection of Jesus of
\vhich it was said, " having loved his own, he
loved them unto the end." Ah ! his love has
never changed ! It has followed us on in the
midst of all our inp;ratitude and folly : it has pur-
sued us when frivolity condemned us. Had it been
otherwise — had he dealt with us as we by him,
our spiritual place would have been of palpable
darkness. Or, had he found the w ork of re-
demption too painfully hard, and left it undone,
we had lived only for Death, — we had died only
for Tophet. Christian labourer, the service you
profess to espouse is his, and net your own : his,
who knew not in the work of your redemption,
or in his gracious promises, either " change or
shadow of turning."

In the character of the departed there was
something distinguishing here. There was
no vacillation ; there was none of the weakness
of indecision. I venture to say, that it was rare,
if ever, her presence was missed from an insti-
tution in which it was demanded, unless an im-
perious and paramount duty presented a higher
claim. These were matters she deemed too im-
portant for trifling: And her integrity was too
spotless to be stained with petty and quibbling
excuses for neslect.

16

Her soul loved the work of her God, and
she pursued it with intentness. Even in the ap-
proach of a trying liour, her eye had not lost
sight of it, when she had left directions relative
to the part she had sustained.

III. Our friend was consistent. How
much this term implies! how little it is under-
stood ! Without consistency, it is more than pos-
sible to build up with one hand, while we pull
down with the other. The world expects a cor-
responding demeanour in a life of active bene-
volence. And the world has a right to do so.
What then is the quality of which we speak ? It
is one which blunts the edge of opposition, and
gives an elevation to the character it embellishes :

1. Consistency demands that the cause of bene-
volence in ivhich ive engage, is that of God, and
not of ourselves : not that of party : not that of
vanity or ambition. It was a bitter sarcasm of a
late caviller that " the active pitty of females
is the piety of a party — the excitement of feel-
ing— a license to obtrude — the idleness of gos-
sipping, that occasions more disputes than the
benevolence excuses." But this is a blow not
at benevolence itself ; but at selfishness cloaked
by hypocrisy. It is too late now to attach to
Christianity the evils of its professors. Wherever
there is an exclusive spirit, and a meddling tern-

17

per, and a fault telling tongue, the very gar-
ment of benevolence renders them more dis-
gusting. But where a meek and gentle dis-
position— an unassuming deportment, and a
retiring temper, blend in the female labourer,
there is an influence in their attraction which
commands alike our respect and our love. We
see a heavenly devotedness unmixed with a jea-
lous and earthly spirit.

II. Consistency forbids that we sacrifice one
duty to accotnplisli another. The female who
neglects her own sphere — who is remiss in the
domestic offices which fall to her lot — who is
careless of the cultivation of her own mind — is
chargeable with either fanaticism or ambition ;
and we do, and we ought, to look out for the
consequences of both. And in this high and
holy matter, there neither is, nor oue;ht to be,
an excuse for either. If there be neither hus-
band nor father to complain, community will —
And the community will detect such an evil, in
the very pride which covers it. And, believe
me, the same keenness of suspicion which arraigns
the conduct of disinterested men, will make a
more palpable discovery here. There is the same
process in the moral world, which exists in the
natural : things will take their level in time, if
they do not at once. The water will rise no

>- 18

higher than its fountain ; or the artifice which
raised it, will be discovered. The world — and
here it agrees with the Bible — will not consent
to our acting out of our sphere. And it will as-
certain and condemn, when we do so. 1 apply
this remark to both my positions ; that of obtru-
sion ; and that of departing from the circle of
our proper duty.

III. The consistent labourer in the vineyard of
God will be familiar with his closet. He that is
otherwise may be, but is not likely to be, an in-
strument of good to others. We may be active ;
but personal devotion is the true source of expe-
rimental devotedness. Familiarity with the clo-
set will give us an appetite for duties without.
They mutually aid and promote each other. —
The one prepares us for the world ; and the other
for retirement and meditation. If we take our
views from the Word of God, we can have no
high idea of piety without activity : but shame
and confusion will follow that activity which has
not the unction of prayer — fervent, heartfelt
prayer.

I appeal to those who knew her, how well
these brief but comprehensive maxims were ex-
emplified in our departed sister, as far as it was
possible to judge. In her whole agency there
was nothing of party. Mildly, but affectionate-

19

ly, she reproved where she saw it. And die folly
of gossiphig reached her own bosom when it
was intended for others.

Her own family was never neglected. In the
latter months of her life, the infirmities of one
who was dear to her engrossed her attention.
And she felt, as she should have felt, that her first
duties were at home. The stay and the staff of
an aged relative, she never relinquished her post
while her presence was needed. Yet even here,
not a few can testify, that when she could not be on
the open field of action, she acted the part of a
Dorcas. It were an unchristian statement to
say that her liberality was unbounded — for the
liberality of the Christian has its bounds in ex-
pediency and judgment. But I have had oppor-
tunities of knowing that it was judicious, full,

and unostentatious.

— <

Her heart panted for the evidence of a saving
change in many whom she loved. And her
sympathies gave rise to emotions which an inti-
mate would know and understand. God grant
that the private utterings to which such emotions
gave rise, may be visible in the fruits for which
she longed on earth ! Ah there is no true reli-
gion that does not yearn for the redemption of
those who are specially dear to our hearts. I
hazard but litde when I say, that relating to her

20

own soul, as well as the souls of others, prayer
was the key of the morning, and the bolt of the
night.

Such was our lamented friend in life. And
the sketch of duties 1 have drawn from the living
example. There is wrong in overweening eulo-
gy, as well as in defamation of the dead. I
should tremble in being the instrument of eithef.
To the best ol my knowledge, I have thus far
pencilled with truth : and I have laid every re-
striction on feelings of my personal partiality.

To some, it may be discouraging to gaze on
an example which their circumstances may never
permit them to imitate closely. We have many
whose means are far short of those of our de-
parted Sister in Christ. And many whose time
is far more engrossed by domestic duties. But
Christian consistency forbids all that is inordi-
nate, and all that is out of its place. He that
has one talent in the Scriptural sense of the term,
is not required to gather interest for ten. The
frown and the curse will be, where we improve
not what we have : Where we make our pas-
time, or our ease, or our sensual comfort, the
excuse for neglect — whatever name we may give
it. There is a blessing for him who can give no
more than a cup of cold water, in the name of
Jesus, and in the spirit of love to him. And there

21

wfis one who had feeble means of honouring ihe
Redeemer, to whom he paid the exahed compli-
ment— " she did what she could." Oh, for that
tribute in the day when by a light from the
throne of God we shall see the proudest of hu-
man flatteries in their character of reproach !

We arrive in this period of our discourse, at
the event which has called for it. The hour
comes when the gaities of life are done, and the
pleasures of life are ended, with the most favour-
ed of this world's votaries. And the hour comes,
too, to the labourer in the Vineyard, when his
sun sets, and he returns from his work — and the
record of both follows them to the Audit above.
It is a brief winter's day at least. But when that
hour has come, the note of many a complainer
has changed. It is no more " let me die the
death of the righteous" — this was the cry of life's
vigour — there is a note that is new — " oh, that I
had lived the life of the righteous !" Female
accomplishments, and attractions, and beauty —
the charm, and the snare — wither under the
damp touch of a dreaded finger.

Yes ; there is a prophecy sure as it is unheed-
ed, that sounds aloud : *' An end is come ; it
watcheth for thee, lo, it is come !" and its fulfil-
ment shall pass alike throui:;h the pomp of cif-
'Cumstance and power, and the retirement of po-

22

verty. It baffles our best calculations : it stains
the fairest of our eartlily hopes, with the mark
of uncertainty.

Oh, I know how we err when we attempt lo
tell the nature of a death- hour. I know that
there is folly in all anticipations here. Remorse
may not gather around the death-bed of the im-
pious. The letharjjy of disease may stupify the
brightest of faculties. Or self-deception may
play her part as effectually there, as in the flush
of health. We err when we speak of the neces-
sary exultation of the departing Christian. On
him too disease may have its power. Or a mo-
ral constitution that is incapable of exstacy, may
find no miracle to create it then. Or a dark
providence may curtain the season, with the sam#
mystery that covered many a day of health. I
know it was so with the sweetest of Britain's
Christian bards. In the apathy or self-decep-
tion of the abandoned sinner, there may be a
pleasing delusion to his associates. And in the
torpor or cloudiness of the pious dying, there may
be sorrow in the bosom of the endeared specta-
tor. But I know that wliile his strength shall be
equal to his day with the child of God — and
Avhile I can confide in that promise, " I will
neither leave thee, nor forsake thee" — I am
equally sure, that there is no special pledge for

23

special enjoyments in any given season on earth.
Safety shall track the way of the heirs of Hea-
ven,— and yet it is possible that the foot may
tremble as it is raised to dip in the waters of
Jordan. Whatever reason for comfort I might
have in the instance recalled before us, I would
alike bar, by this statement, the hopes of the
presumptuous, who have seen the careless calmly
die, or the fears of the timid who have seen the
exemplary droop in that fearful moment.

But there is a distinction here which, for the
most part, prevails, and which of all others is
most easily forgotten. Where terror steals over
the heart of the impenitent, it is gathered from
beyond the fearful verge. Where fear sinks the
spirits of the pious its source is nearer: it is the
revolting of nature from the crisis of dissolution,
and it may collect its cold to the very chilling
of faith. There is something in the thought of
a separation of the soul from its habitation, which
we do not understand. What and how, it is, —
are questions which we do not comprehend.-^
And there are minds which this mystery attracts,
despite of themsc Ives. And they hover around
it. And they give to it artificial terrors. And
imagination, most ready here, lends her aid to
invest, they know not what, with a gloom they
know not why.

2*

Touching then the article of Death, we can
speak ordinarily of nothing certain — nothing
assured. And I am bold to say, apart from the
index of the life, we can learn nothing definitely
from it. It is part of our earthly probation ; but it
possesses no distinctive moral character that
points to the future. There may, therefore, be
as great an error in inordinately desiring exuha-
tion in death, rather than the evidences of a well
grounded hope, as there is in many a mistaken
professor of religion in seeking seasons of joy
rather than proofs of his sincerity, or of the gen-
uineness of his graces.

But if the Word of God do not encourage us
by special promises to look for certain clear views
in this trying hour, as a guaranteed prelibation
of the joys to come, it does what is better And
it is an humble dependence upon that, which
after all, constitutes the basis of true peace at
this moment : Yes ; it does what is better : it
anchors the hopes beyond this world. — There
arc three words on a page of this volume which
of themselves distinguish Christianity from all
other systems of religion : and in their compre-
hensiveness and their energy they contain all
that a trembling spirit should ask : hear them —
and suffer' their power to pervade your thoughts
in time — to prepare them for Eternity — «' Death

25

IS Yours !" — Death that was the curse^ so terri-
fic and so appalling, is transformed into a bles-
sing ; and the property of that blessing is yours.
No sting is there. No victory to the ^rave : the
victor is the child of faith.

Oh, it is su^eet to watch by the instructive bed
of a departing heir of grace ; and to mark the
anticipations of joy in the almost unearthly mind ;
and to drink in counsel that seems freshened by
its nearness to Eternity. These are honoured
hours ; and 1 can look upon many of them as
goals in my pilgrimage. But whether this may
be or not with us, the Christian has a more sure
ground of confidence, that should teach him to
confide in his God. It is true that the act of dy-
ing is painfully mysterious ; and the more so, be-
cause in all things else we have the well told ex-
perience of others ; but though thousands depart
around us, none come back to tell us what it is
to die. Yet turn to these pages again : if there
be nothing direct on this matter there, there is a
passage that sheds its light into every hour. —
^^ The steps of a good man are ordered by his
Word ," and if it be so in the movements of life
in health, is there a point of desertion ? Is he
left to take this step unordered and alone ? Oh,
no ! It will be the declaration of Jesus him-
self <' I undertook for him, — and here he is;

4

I led him through the wilderness 1 conducted

him through the gates of the grave — there I de-
serted him not 1 kept him company through

the dark valley — and here he is Angels, wel-
come a spirit redeemed !" " As for me,

so for him," " lift up your heads, oh ye gates ;
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors," an
" heir of glory comes !"

Yet back to this point again. Notwithstand-
ing all we have said, there is a hankering in na-
ture to know something of the embattled hour.
We would learn the last accents of one beloved.
And we attach to them, it is possible, even a
superstitious value. We ask — and the question
is hardly repressible " how did he die ?"

Christian Females, ye who shared in the

friendship of our departed sister, or in the com-
panionship of her labour of love — would you
ask " how did she die ?" The answer is signifi-
cant and just — she died as she lived. Her lead-
ing characteristic in life — and it never forsook
her — was dignity. She died as she lived, with-
out a change of character. It was dignity in

DEATH. Not an acceptation of the term

^vhich applies it to ought of pride, or lofty bear-
ing ; or to a conscious sense of any worth in
herself; for she never manifested either. A meek
and humble dependence on the Redeemer had

27

characterized her conversation and life. But it
was accompanied by a deportment and mien
which contradicted all possible suspicion of a
littleness, or weakness, of natural character. —
There was nothing artificial — nothing assumed —
to be thrown off, and to leave exposed to the
sight, deformities which artifice had concealed.
Without a sinister end in view, siie had no rea-
son, and no temptation, ever to appear other than
she was.

Advancing in life, she had combined the dig-
nity of the Matron, with the suavity of the pray-
erful Christian. Long accustomed to contem-
plate the change, her mind was familiar with
it. For years gone by she had prepared the
garments of the tomb — the envelope that now
covers her frame in its dark, cold chamber.

She seemed to have caught a prediction of
truth from the first pulsations of fever. And al-
though she rejected no means which medical
skill provided, she avowed her persuasion of their
utter inefficiency. The racking of a painful
disorder never encroached on her serenity, or
ruffled her unvarying calmness. Had death been
an enemy, he were met with the cool collected-
ness of a fearless combatant. Her house was
already " set in order." She had little to do,
but to await a summons from which she had

28

neither inclination nor disposition to shrink. —
•' My confidence is in my Redeemer," — she said,
*' and that confidence is sure." One who knew
not the worth of a hope from Heaven, and under-
stood it not, Avould have found in her firm and
deliberate manner and tone, the support of a
philosophical resolution ; but it was the philoso-
phy of Heaven's disciple — it sustained the heart
as well as the mind. I know not that we may
predicate our ideas of a dying hour, from the
moral or physical constitution ; but had I done
so, my anticipations would have been realized to
their very letter, in Elizabeth Robertson.

To the relatives of the deceased there is all
that is refreshing in the review of her life and
her death. Ye are infinitely far from sorrowing

as those without hope. Oh, for the operation

of that faith that renders the departure of the
Christian a tranquilizing lesson from Christ !
Behold ! Heaven has a new attraction in this ad-
dition to its society ! Death has snapt another
tie — and ye are looser to earth. Ye are less
bound here. Ye are more loudly called aw ay.
Into what bosom then, could selfishness steal, to
murmur and wish back a spirit that has begun
its travel of glory, to the disappointments, the
cares, and tlie griefs of our blighted earth ? Not
one. There is not one that would pluck away

29

the crown that sits on the head of the accepted
soul, and expose that head again to the bleak-
ness of our world.

Female members of this Church, it is not too
much to say you have lost a prominent leader in
the labour of love. The field of your cultiva-
tion is thinned of its labourers. But you saw
and understood the consistency of life and death,
and the connexion of one with the other. Look
not, I pray you, for a holy confidence in the un-
tried hour, disconnected from a review of the
past. We must gather the past into that hour.
" As the tree falls so it lies." Whatever worldlv
notions we may entertain — to whatever exemp-
tion from the work of God we may think our-
selves entided, the truth must appear at last, des-
pite of all our sophistry.

In this melancholy bereavement, time, short at
best, seems abbreviated more. Oh, believe me,
the value of time is known only to the true
Christian — but especially the opportunities of
practical and active benevolence. Opportunity
is the cream of time. Time may endure for a
season ; but opportunities go by. Would God,
then, that in an expressive sense ye may die
daily. That ye may eye Heaven in your
works — speak its language, and forget the lan-
guage of Ashdod.

[The lamented Author of this Discourse dfd not intend
it for publication. His motive for printing it, is stated at
the commencement. At some future period, he had de-
signed using it as the outlines of a more full and extended
Essay on the duties of Females in the Vineyard of Christ,
But he did not live to accomplish his object ; — nor did he
live to see this " imperfect article," — as he called it, — through
the press. He had corrected the first sheet, when he
was arrested by that disease which, in ninety hours, ter-
minated his earthly labours. On his dying couch, and but
little before he expired, he breathed out an ardent prayer
that it might prove a blessing to those into whose hands it
should fall. He enjoyed, to the last, sweet peace in the
prospect of death, and, in the name of his Saviour, he
triumphed gloriously over the King of Terrors, He fell
asleep in Jesus, on the 5th of October, 1827, at 4 o'clock,
A. M. Aged 37 years and 13 days. — Ed. Charleston Oh-
scTver.'\

^^\

W J.

^■^:

4>

r^.

^#

■^