Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

It is difficult to decide what was Mrs. M's leading characteristic. In the early period of her life, resolution was, perhaps, her most obvious trait; but it gradually subsided into caution, though without degenerating into timidity. She was seldom off her guard among strangers, and, even among her best friends, took care to say nothing which she was not willing should be repeated. The consequence was, that she never was the cause of any misunderstanding or difficulty in her husband's church; and, though many felt unreconciled to her not visiting them, she never incurred ill will.

The desire of usefulness amounted to a passion, even at her first conversion, and continued a steady impulse to the end. Few persons caine to the house, or fell in her way, on whom she did not urge, personally, the subject of religion. Many have spoken, both before and since her death, of their deriving important benefit from her pointed and solemn conversation. As to letters, she early made a resolution, named in her diary of that time, never to write to any one without urging religious considerations in some part of it; and from that rule it is not known that she ever deviated.

Her love and care for the souls of her children, was at all times remarkable, and hours would be spent in prayer for them, even before they were born. Her highest, indeed, her only, ambition for them, was, their conversion, and usefulness in the church. The anniversary of the birth of each child was always kept as a day of fasting and prayer.

In presiding at the meetings of Female Societies, she was resolute to preserve exact order and decorum, by which she always accomplished business with despatch, and without that irregular and invisible mode of operating, which scarcely ever fails to leave some ignorant of what is done, or displeased at the manner. Resolutions were passed by the Infant School Society, and transmitted to Mr. M., showing how affectionately she is remembered by those, who called her to preside over that important institution. Similar resolutions were passed in several other societies, with which she was connected at the time of her decease.

6

She was accustomed, from her first conversion, to think and speak of death, with great pleasure and desire. Many extracts might be given from her letters and diary, showing how perfectly she was prepared to give that messenger a cordial and joyous welcome. Under date of June 30, 1819, she thus writes in her diary: "In the afternoon a lady took tea with us, who is devoid of piety. Before she came, I prayed that the Lord would make my conversation profitable. She had not long been with us before it thundered and lightened. She made an exclamation, and appeared very much appalled. She asked me if I was afraid of thunder and lightning? Not in the least,' I replied, 'I am prepared for death.'-'What! did you say you were prepared to die? Yes,' I rejoined. 'But are you not afraid?" I answered, that there was nothing for me to fear; that I felt it my duty to live near to God, and be ready to depart whenever it was his will; that death would emancipate me from the dominion of sin, and a world diversified with vicissitudes of affliction, and introduce me to the enjoyment of immortal blessedness. She in surprise asked me if I felt confident of going to heaven. I said, 'Yes, because I rely wholly on Christ Jesus. I have nothing ro recommend me to the favor of God-my righteousness 'is as filthy rags; but Christ died for sinners, and I feel that I am one of the chief of sinners. All my hope and trust is in him, and I am confident of going to heaven, because, whoever believes in him shall not be confounded.' She said, if those are your sentiments, you must be one of the happiest people in the world. I told her that the happiness I enjoyed was offered to every one. She disbelieved that every one could possess it.-I contended that they can, by diligently seeking God, and living near to him by meditation and prayer. We pursued the conversation, I trust, with profit." That this happy confidence did not desert her in the hour of conflict, is abundantly evident in the narration of her departing moments. Death, though sudden and unexpected, did not take her by surprise. She was habitually and actually prepared for his coming.

6

Mrs. M. always expressed herself in common conversation with great exactness and elegance. In prayer, this rich fluency of expression was remarkably apparent. No one could be present without being struck with the depth, fervor, and extent of her religious conceptions. She seemed entirely insensible of the presence of others, while, with gushing tears, and multiplied arguments, she literally wrestled with God. She never refused to conduct family worship, when fatigue or indisposition induced her husband to desire it; and in his absence from home, if the gentlemen who might be staying at the house, were not professors of religion, or declined to officiate, she never failed to go through the service herself."

It was her habit, always to spend some portion of the week preceding the communion, to solemn preparation for that delightful and most important ordinance. The consequence was, that generally she enjoyed both pleasure and profit in its celebration. From many similar passages in her diary, the following is a specimen :

"July 4th, 1819. Celebrated the supper instituted by our Lord Jesus. During the week previous, I had implored the Lord to prepare all our hearts, that we might approach and know our own weaknesses, and how to estimate our Saviour's merits.-I have often been surprised, that, whilst contemplating the elements consecrated to the memory of my Saviour's death, I am not more solemnly affected; and chide my heart for having so little sympathy for those sufferings that procured my redemption. To-day, I thought myself a poor reptile, that I could look on the symbols of his crucified body, without feeling my heart distended with grief. After endeavoring to ascertain the cause, felt a joyous idea gleam through my mind. I thought that our Lord had died to purchase happiness for his followers, and that he does not command them to be sorrowful whilst participating in this relic of his love, but to do it ' in remembrance of him;' to call to mind his exalted attributes, and, by reminding us of his sufferings, and by the most powerful and exquisite passions of the human soul-gratitude and love-be constrained to desire to partake more and more of the divine effulgence of his graces."

A few days afterwards, she says: "I rejoice that my irritable disposition is more subdued: perfect the work, O Lord, and, by its complete extirpation, may I give evidence of the conquests of the cross. My heart delights more to attend frequently the house of God. I have lately experienced a more ardent panting for holiness, than I ever before remember having felt. Thou hast promised, Lord, that those that 'hunger and thirst after righteousness shall be filled.' In me accomplish it, I pray. For the last few days I have felt an uncommon and deep concern for Christless souls. I plead with the Lord for them, and entreated him to grant that the power of his Spirit should preside on my lips, that I may be blessed to them. I felt, at the sacramental celebration of infinite love, that I had never experienced such happiness before."

In regard to her husband, she was chiefly remarkable for a constant and earnest desire to sustain and assist him as a Christian minister. Though his engagements scarcely allowed time to sit down with her ten minutes at a time, during their whole connection, she never demanded more attention, or cherished impatience. She often spoke of it, even with tears, but regarded it as a cross, cheerfully to be borne for the good of others. To contribute to his usefulness, either by what she could do, or what she could forego, was as her meat and drink. Hence she cheerfully wrote* or read for him, at any time, saw visiters, attended market, and saved his time in every possible way. When he was specially engaged, she would wait on the front door, that only those who really needed an interview, should be admitted, and that those who did not see him might not be offended by the indiscretions or bluntness of a servant. She especially reverenced him as her spiritual father, and often alluded to that fact in her

* Her penmanship was remarkably elegant and flowing.

letters and conversation. None loved and sought his ministry more than she, or felt more deeply the privation of it when kept at home. She strove to make his home a place of rest and peace; and though naturally of an unamiable disposition, she made herself, through grace, one of the best of wives, and lived, during her thirteen years of married life, in as great a share of conjugal felicity as falls to the lot of most.

Her mind was habitually established in assurance of hope. The firm and seldom shaken belief, that her salvation was settled, and that she was chosen in Christ, to be a vessel of mercy, had given her a holy contempt of earth, and she had no regrets on leaving it. Though humbled in the dust under a consciousness of her entire want of personal merit, she looked away from herself, and trusted in the eternal covenant between the Father and the Son, as the tower of her strength and salvation. Dwelling on its vastness, its magnificence, its certainty, she longed to realize her splendid imaginings; and when the convoy came, she spread the pinions of faith, and joyously soared to God.

Reader! follow them "who by faith and patience inherit the promises."God grant that the perusal of this memoir may not rise up in judgment against you!

POETRY.

THE FUTURE LIFE.

Who hath not felt the burning tear
Fall from his mourning eye?
Who, that is sent to wander here,
Hath never breathed a sigh?
Who hath not wept some cherished joy,
Forever from him flown?

Who hath not grieved for friends who died,
And left him all alone?

Who, with a heart of gentle mould,

Hath felt not sorrow's flow,
When all the sources of its peace
Have turned to springs of wo?

Meekly the tender, pliant flower,
When comes the driving storm,
Bendeth unto its wrathful power
Its unresisting form—

Sweet, though the sun again may smile,
And all the sky be fair,
The plant but languisheth a while-
Then fades and withers there.

So, though the grief that rent the breast
May lose its sharpest sting,

No earthly joy, of gentle hearts
Can mend the broken string.

Yet, weep not, Christian, there's a world,
Where every heart shall be

Lost in unutterable joy

That joy shall come to thee.
There shall thy dearest friends to thee
Their fond affection tell;

And, in the language of the sky,
Shall be no word-farewell.

The burning tear no more shall flow,
No more the bosom sigh;
No wind of pain and sorrow blow,
Nor friends grow pale and die.
The tender heart, with all in heaven
Shall sweet communion hold;
Nor weep
that love is faithless grown,
Nor kind affections cold.

The flower, that by the tempest's might
On the wet earth was laid,

Shall rise and bloom in joyous light,

And smile, no more to fade.

Peace, then, thou tender, weeping one;
Thou hast heaven's sympathy;
Thou dost not bear thy grief alone-
Thy Saviour cares for thee.

THOUGHTS FOR MINISTERS.

Exertion for the good of others may be connected with self-neglect. Every object that gains much of our attention and interest is apt to draw us off from the vigorous cultivation of personal piety; and though such an effect might be little anticipated from pursuits of a religious kind, yet experience has abundantly shown that they are in this respect little, if at all, less dangerous than

secular engagements. We may easily devote ourselves with so much eager. ness to efforts of pious usefulness, as to overlook in part, or to pursue with less earnestness and diligence, the important exercises of the closet. The time allotted to these exercises may be infringed upon and shortened; or the attention paid to the discipline of the heart therein may become less close and severe, through the distraction of the mind. This ill effect is so much the more probable, as it may seem to be justified by a sufficient reason. We should not suffer ourselves to abridge our closet duties, perhaps, for worldly business or pleasure; but to make this sacrifice for the sake of doing good to the souls of men is a different thing, and one for which much more may be said. It is, besides, much more easy and agreeable to employ ourselves in probing another's heart, than in examining our own. Of all the exercises of piety, those of the closet are the most difficult and unwelcome. They bring us under the weightiest influences of eternal things, and into an immediate strife with our inbred iniquities; they lead to self-reproof; they call for humiliation and renunciation of sin; they awaken strenuous effort: but the instruction and persuasion of others can be conducted without any of this trouble, and, indeed, with a sense of pleasure and satisfaction; so that, whenever it is thought allowable to transfer our attention to this latter object, there is a great probability of its being preferred. And why, we may sometimes ask, why should it not be allowable? The occupation is wholly of a religious nature; and may it not reasonably be expected, that in promoting the edification of others we shall find our own?

These plausible and seductive representations do but conceal a snare. They lead us, while keeping the vineyards of others, to neglect that which demands our more immediate care, and thus both to inconsistency, to mischief, and to sin 1. Neglect of personal piety is sinful, inasmuch as the cultivation of the heart is our primary duty. It matters not that what we are doing is good and useful; the maintenance of fellowship with God, the advancement of conformity to his image, the vigorous mortification of sin, are obligatory on us above all things, even above all good things; and there is no rectitude in neglecting a primary duty in order to attend to a secondary one. If with respect to efforts for usefulness it may be said, these things ought ye to have done; with respect to exercises of closet piety it may be said, also, these ought ye not to have left undone. By the neglect of them God is dishonored and displeased. That we have been teaching the ignorant and reclaiming the lost, is no sufficient apology for the omission of those expressions of gratitude, dependence, and dedication, which are perpetually due from us to our Maker and our Lord.

2. Neglect of personal piety cannot be otherwise than mischievous. It is mischievous to ourselves, because it infallibly leads to declension. However willingly we may suppose that spirituality and holiness may be preserved by being in the midst of engagements of a religious nature, it will be uniformly found that this is not the fact. A lively state of mind in religion can never be maintained with a deserted closet. The heart requires to be often withdrawn from all inferior objects, and to be brought into immediate intercourse with the Father of spirits; otherwise, the sense of our relation to him is speedily lost, and with it every thing that is influential or valuable in religion. It is in his light that we see light. Whatever power the things of an eternal world may at any time have exercised upon us, if we are not frequently looking at them afresh, their influence will quickly fade, and soon altogether vanish. The evils of the heart, if it be not habitually searched and disciplined, will resume a rapid growth, and acquire a prevailing dominion. To neglect the cultivation of personal piety, therefore, is inevitably to consign it to decay; and this is surely a most serious mischief. What can recompense us for a lukewarm and a deadened heart? What will be to us even the salvation of others, if we ourselves should perish? What will it avail us to have kept the vineyards of others, if our own be unfruitful?

But the mischief of a neglected heart is not confined to ourselves; it will extend also to others, and to the very exertions we are making for their good. For what is the impulse of these exertions? What is it that awakens us to

the condition of the ungodly, that quickens our sloth, that subdues our shame, that unseals our lips, that inspires us with earnest solemnity? Is it not the force of inward piety, the power with which we realize the objects of a future world, and the influences we derive from communion with our beloved Lord? And when these decay, what is to become of the efforts which have sprung from them? They will infallibly decay also. You will lose your anxiety to be useful; the wretchedness of sinners will affect you less deeply; you will want a more powerful summons to draw you to the scenes of guilt and misery; you will be less prompt in improving opportunities, and even in seeing them; you will act with less vigor; you will yield to the influence of sinful shame; you will be less earnest and solemn in your address; and the efforts of usefulness which you do not abandon will be converted into a routine of duties, cold, heartless, and loathed. And will all this be no mischief? What, to see those very exertions for the sake of which you have sacrificed your soul's prosperity, lie around you in neglected fragments, half abandoned, and wholly unprofitable? Dreadful result! Yet the sure issue of a neglected heart.

3. It must be added, that the neglect of personal piety, while you are seeking the conversion of others, is glaringly inconsistent. The principles which impel you to one are clearly adapted to lead you to both. If you value the soul of another because you have first learned to value your own, it is surely strange that, while you are caring for the spiritual welfare of others, your own should be forgotten. What can be the reason or the meaning of this? Either your neglect of personal piety throws ridicule on your concern for others, or your concern for them should put your negligence to shame. If the concerns of religion be important enough to lead you to press them on the attention of another, how is it that they do not engage your own? Some grievous inconsistency is here; and one from which you should make an instant escape, if you would not have all your exertions for others' good converted into cutting reproofs of your sin and folly.

See to it, then, dear brethren, that if, as I hope, your are diligent in endeavoring to turn sinners unto God, you are not thereby seduced from a close walk with him yourselves. While keeping the vineyards of others, remember the paramount importance of cultivating your own: think of the sin, the mischief, the inconsistency of neglecting it; and so pursue every course of activity for the souls of men, that you may never have to utter the bitter lamentation, "They made me keeper of the vineyards, but mine own vineyard have I not kept."

Our exertions may give rise to self-complacency, or spiritual pride. Pride, which reigns in the heart of a carnal man, exists in that of the spiritual, and is ready to avail itself of every thing on which it can feed. We shall not make many efforts to do good without having occasion to acknowledge its exercise; and if we are not, like Jehu, betrayed into the exclamation, "Come, see my zeal for the Lord of hosts,” we may detect ourselves in the indulgence of a secret satisfaction and complacency of no hallowed kind. I need not say to any experimental Christian that this is a great evil. With all the sweetness which there may be in a feeling of self-complacency, there is in it no happiness: this lies in contrition and brokenness of heart. The indulgence of spiritual pride, indeed, constitutes a state of miserable inflation, in which there is no breathing of the soul after God, and can be none of his complacency in us; which tends to conceal every sin, to extinguish every grace, and to annihilate every impulse of action and all sense of obligation. It is a state in which piety cannot prosper, in which every evil is rapidly generated, and which is never remedied but by painful and heart-breaking exercises.

The methods of preventing or mortifying such an evil are of the most obvious kind. As no feeling is more ready to arise, so none has less cause. It is only to look it in the face, and recall a few familiar facts, and it will be withered and put to shame. It is not at all necessary that, for this purpose, we should overlook or depreciate whatever in us may be really devoted or laborious. Humility needs not to be fostered by delusions. It does not consist in seeing

« AnteriorContinuar »