Religion in Earnest Part 1

Religion in Earnest.

by John Lyth.

PREFACE.

In compiling the following sheets, the Author has discharged what he felt to be an act, not merely of filial affection, but of Christian duty. To his deceased and venerated Mother he owes more than words can express;--a Mother whose consistent example, earnest piety and frequent effectual prayers, perhaps even more than her oft-repeated counsels, produced upon his mind, while yet a child, the settled conviction that religion is the one business of life. But be believes it also due to the cause of Christ, that an example of "Religion in Earnest," so pre-eminent, should not pa.s.s unrecorded and unimproved.

Those who think the charm of biography consists in startling incident; or who seek for material to gratify a literary taste, will discover here little to meet their respective views. We have only to offer them a simple record of one, whose history possessed no romantic interest, and who made no pretension to intellectual attainments. But such as love to trace the development of Divine grace in the human heart, and to see its power uniformly exemplified in the several phases of every-day life;--who are willing to learn how much may be accomplished by decision, simplicity of purpose, and undeviating consistency;--in a word, how every Christian even in private life, may become a centre of happiness, life and power, are in this volume presented with no common ill.u.s.tration.

The method of arrangement which the writer has adopted has been determined, partly by his materials, and partly by the desire to render his subject practical as well as interesting. How far he has succeeded must be decided by the impression made upon the mind of the reader. He now commends his work to G.o.d, who alone can give success to every good purpose, earnestly praying that Christ, who was magnified in the life of his now sainted mother, may be yet more abundantly magnified in her death.

J.L.

Stetten, O.A. Cannstatt, Wurttemberg.

December 27th, 1860.

I.

ANTECEDENTS.

"A GOOD MAN LEAVETH AN INHERITANCE TO HIS CHILDREN'S CHILDREN." Prov. xiii. 22.

Within the grounds attached to the mansion of the Earl of Harewood, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, is a substantial and well-built farm house, furnished with suitable outbuildings, and surrounded by a fine cl.u.s.ter of fruit-trees. It stands on the side of a hill, which slopes gently down to the river Wharfe, and commands a prospect, which, though not extensive, is singularly picturesque. In front, a little to the right, the ruined fortress of Harewood peeps out of a scattered wood, which crowns the summit of the hill, and shelters one of the neatest and trimmest villages in England. On the left flows the beautiful Wharfe but soon loses itself among the adjacent heights.

Behind, towers the logan of Arlmes cliff, an interesting relic of druidical skill and superst.i.tion; while Riffa wood and Ottley Shevin complete the beauty of the landscape. A row of trees, protected by a lofty wall, effectually conceals the house we have mentioned, from the highroad, which for some distance runs at the foot of the hill and almost parallel to the river. Formerly there was only a sandy lane, which pa.s.sed immediately in front of the house, and winding up the hill, entered the village between the castle and the church. From this circ.u.mstance the adjoining farm was called Sandygate, but with the changes that have taken place, the appellation is now almost forgotten, although the house still retains the name of its original occupant, and is known in the neighbourhood as 'Stables House.'

Just a hundred years ago, this house was built for the accommodation of Wm. Stables, a wealthy yeoman, who resided at Heatherwick (now Stanke), about a mile from Harewood; and who, successful in the cultivation of his paternal acres, sought to extend his interests by renting the farm of Sandygate. His removal was however unpropitious to his domestic happiness; for entering the new house before it was fully fit for occupation, his wife, already in a delicate state of health, took cold and died; leaving him with four children, the eldest of whom was six years old, and the youngest but an infant. Mr. S. is said to have been a shrewd and sensible man, of strict morals and unbending integrity; but withal stern and inflexible in disposition, pharisaic, and a bigoted churchman. His punctuality in the performance of outward religious duties, and the regular payment of his dues, with now and then a fat sheep given to the poor, secured him among his neighbours the reputation of being a good Christian. As might be supposed, his children were trained with great severity, and educated in the straitest sect of their religion. Collect and catechism were duly committed to memory, prayers regularly read in the family, the Sabbath rigorously observed, a stiff and precise order reigned through the whole household; but it wanted the charm and life of spiritual feeling. As the children grew up to maturity, this state of things was destined to be changed by the introduction of a new and unwelcome element, which seriously disturbed the never too profound tranquillity of the old man. Mary, the youngest child, whose mind had gradually opened to the truth, although so defectively communicated, became deeply convinced of sin under the ministry of Mr. Jackson, the parish clergyman; and so painful and vivid were her views of her miserable condition, that she cried aloud for mercy in the church. Her father was deeply concerned for her, but, as he was ignorant of spiritual religion, he was utterly at a loss to understand her feelings. As a last resource he sent for the minister, but with no better result, for he too, frankly confessed that he did not understand the sorrow of which he had been the unwitting occasion. A specimen of this gentleman's ability to administer spiritual counsel and direction is recorded in the characteristic autobiography of Richard Burdsall.

"Visiting Mr. Stables in his last illness Mr. Jackson asked him how he did. Mr. S. replied, 'Sir, I am a miserable sinner.' 'Do not say you are a miserable sinner,' replied the Reverend gentleman, 'for you are a good man.' Mr. S. answered, 'O, Mr. Jackson, I am a miserable sinner.' To this the parson replied, 'if you will be a miserable sinner you are like to be a miserable sinner,' and so came no more."

Mary was thus left to seek relief and comfort where she could; and having heard of the Methodists, who held a meeting every Sabbath in a house about a mile distant from Harewood, she secretly resolved to attend, if possibly, she might find the hidden peace, which she had hitherto sought in vain. Here she met with a few humble but sincere persons, who could sympathise with her state of mind; and from whom she received such instruction and encouragement, that, not long after while pleading with G.o.d in the secrecy of her chamber, she obtained 'redemption through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of sins.' Much to the chagrin of her father, she now became an avowed Methodist; and was subjected to the petty persecution, which usually awaits the first in a family that embraces vital G.o.dliness. On one occasion, her father locked her out of the house; and, on another, threatened to shoot her, but she remained firm to her profession; until at length, her consistent and steady deportment was rewarded by the conversion of her two brothers, John and William, and also of two of the servants. The increased displeasure of the old gentleman was signally exhibited. Afraid lest Elizabeth his eldest daughter should also become a Methodist, he resolved at once to free his house from all possibility of infection. The two servants were dismissed without ceremony; and the three delinquents banished to a farm, which he had purchased, at Kirkby Overblow, a few miles distant. These precautions were useless. The removal of her sister and brothers, together with the occasion of their banishment, so much affected Elizabeth, that in fact it contributed to the result it was intended to prevent. So foolish and vain are the thoughts of men when they attempt to arrest the operations of the Spirit of G.o.d. Isolated and freed from control, the young converts were now left to obey the dictates of conscience without further opposition. In their new home they were thrown more directly in contact with the Methodists, and especially formed acquaintance with Richard Burdsall, with whose cla.s.s they at once connected themselves.

Richard Burdsall was one of those bold and distinctive characters, whose sterling piety and ardent zeal shining forth from under a rude exterior, gave such peculiar l.u.s.tre to the age of early Methodism; and indicated an agency, specially raised by G.o.d, to break up the fallow ground and clear away the thorns, that the incorruptible seed of truth might find a soil congenial to its germination and growth. His conversion, which occurred at the age of twenty, was accompanied by indubitable proofs of its reality; and instantly followed up by entire consecration to G.o.d. The path of usefulness soon opened out before him; and in spite of 'fightings without and fears within,' he pursued it with undeviating integrity to the close of a protracted life. His shrewdness and originality of thought, quaint and pointed method of expression, combined with such an intimate acquaintance with the word of G.o.d, that some said he had the scriptures at his fingers' ends, and others nicknamed him 'old chapter and verse;' and above all, his known integrity and uncompromising zeal for the glory of G.o.d, amply compensated for the want of cultivation, and rendered him as a lay preacher so exceedingly popular and useful, that he was repeatedly solicited to enter a higher sphere, and devote himself to the work of the ministry. He was twice appointed by Mr. Wesley to the York circuit, in which he was resident; and in six different instances, invited to take charge of independent congregations; but, although he so far yielded to the request of the former as to make the experiment for nine months, he voluntarily retired, under the conviction that he was called to occupy an humbler but not less useful sphere. His labours, which were extended over a considerable part of Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, were blessed by G.o.d to the salvation of thousands. By day toiling at the vice or the anvil, and by night preaching the glad tidings of the Gospel, his life was spent,

"'Twixt the mount and mult.i.tude Doing and receiving good"

until, within a fortnight of his death, at the advanced age of eighty-eight, he delivered his last discourse, and died shouting "Victory, Victory," through the blood of the Lamb.

At the period of oar narrative Mr. B. resided at Kearby, about a mile from the Kirkby farm, where he soon became a frequent and welcome visitor; and by his counsels and example, contributed much to confirm the faith and piety of its inmates. The two brothers became useful local preachers, and remained faithful unto death; and with Mary commenced an intimacy, which, notwithstanding considerable difference of age and circ.u.mstances, was ultimately consummated in marriage. The story of the courtship is amusing and characteristic. Mary was fair to look upon, and having moreover the prospect of a handsome fortune, commanded many admirers. One day when several of these aspirants for her hand were present, Mr. B. stepped in, and, perceiving how matters were going, quietly slipped behind her and whispered, 'I mean to have thee myself'. This abrupt avowal had the desired effect. The blooming damsel preferred the widower with four children, though twice her own age, to younger but not more worthy suitors; a decision she never had occasion to regret.

The engagement thus strangely brought to a crisis, was not entered into without much serious forethought and prayer. The path of Providence was distinctly indicated, and there remained but one obstacle in the way of the proposed union, and that was to secure the consent of Mr. Stables; which, to quote Mr. Burdsall's own words, "'to me appeared like asking him for his life'. I was however providentially helped out of this difficulty; for as I was returning from preaching one morning, I met him in a narrow lane at some distance from his own house. When he saw me, he turned round as though he would not meet me. The lane being strait, he took hold of my mare and said, 'What are you a riding preacher now'? I answered, 'To be sure I am, for you see I am upon my mare'. He then said, 'Are my sons right, think you, when they can go to a public house and drink with people and pay nothing'? I replied, 'You are not to give credit to what the world says of us Methodists, or of your sons. I believe your sons fear the Lord, and are wishful to do what is right'. He said, 'Well, he that endureth to the end the same shall be saved'. I replied, 'That is G.o.d's word, but it will not suit every one'. He then wished to know whom it would not suit. I answered, 'It will not suit the unregenerate, for were I to tell sinners, that if they endured to the end in their sins they should be saved, I should lie; for they cannot be saved if they do: neither will it suit the self-righteous, for the word of G.o.d says, 'Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven'. What I said, seemed to carry conviction to his mind. He said, 'They say you are a good preacher, I shall come and hear you'. 'I should be glad to see you', replied I, 'but I fear your master will not let you come'. We then proceeded towards his house in friendly conversation, and when we were just going to part he said, 'They say you are going to marry my daughter.' I answered, 'I doubt they grieve you with, it.' He said, 'Nay, not at all, for my daughter shall marry whom she likes.' 'You speak very honourably,'

said I, 'if you only stand to your word.' To this he replied, 'I will, she shall marry whom she likes.' I said to him, 'I will make you this promise, that I will not marry your daughter for the sake of her fortune, for I do not believe you will give me any with her. If I can be a.s.sured that it is of the Lord, I will marry her though you turn her into the street dest.i.tute; and, without this persuasion, I would not marry her though you were to give her your whole estate to do so: therefore do not blame me.' He said, 'I cannot,' and we parted."

Notwithstanding this plain conversation, Mr. Stables was highly displeased with the match, and offered to give his daughter an additional portion on condition that she would not prosecute it; adding, "If you do, I'll give you sixpence a-week, and you may go about singing Methodist songs."

On their marriage, which took place shortly after, Mr. and Mrs.

Burdsall removed to York. The offended father, true to his word, sent his daughter forth literally dest.i.tute; not even permitting her to take her personal apparel. It was not until twelve months had elapsed, that any further communication took place. The interview is thus related by Mr. Burdsall in his own quaint style. "I happened to be pa.s.sing near his house as he was going from it; on my calling to him, he asked what I wanted with him. I said, 'I want to know what place you mean me to have in heaven?' He smiled, and asked, 'Do you mean to go there?' 'I hope so,' said I. He then asked me why I had married his daughter. I told him, because I loved her and thought she would make me a good wife. I added, 'You know, sir, that I told you before I married her, that I would not marry her for the sake of her fortune; neither have I, I do not expect any, the Lord blesses us without any, and he will still continue to bless us.' He acknowledged the truth of what I said, and we parted." The fire of wrath was still smouldering in the heart of the old man, and awakened in the mind of Mrs. Burdsall feelings of painful anxiety, especially, as it was apparent, that life was ebbing fast to its close. Mr. B. therefore, a short time after, addressed a kind but faithful letter to him on the great subject of salvation, and concluded with these remarkable and expressive words, "I have no other reason for writing to you, that I know of, than this, that the sun is going down." This produced no immediate effect, only, whenever they met, Mr. Stables would say, "You write parables to me." The allusion however so appositely and wisely put, like an arrow directed to the mark, had fastened upon his conscience, and was secretly undermining the strength of long and obstinately-cherished resentment. The marksman was skilful, but still better, a man of "fervent effectual prayer." "As a Prince he had power with G.o.d and with men, and prevailed," for "when a man's ways please the Lord He maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." So it turned out.

Mr. Burdsall says, "One time, as I was returning home from preaching at a distant place in a very wet cold and hungry state, and as night was coming on, having to pa.s.s his residence, I thought I would call and see if he would receive me. I knocked at the door, and he himself opened it. Seeing me he called his eldest daughter and said, 'Here is thy brother, come and take his horse.' I alighted and went in. He then accosted me as he had done once before, asking, 'What are you a riding preacher now?' I answered, 'To be sure I am; for I have ridden from York to Seacroft, and from thence to your house.' 'Well,' said he, 'I know you live well.' I replied, 'We do; but I have not lived so well to day as I might have done; for I feel rather hungry.' He smiled, and bid his daughter put on the tea kettle. We then entered into conversation, in which he said, 'You write parables to me, for you told me the sun was going down.' I answered, 'I did so, and my reason for it was, I knew I had stirred up your wrath in marrying your daughter against your mind, and was fearful lest the sun should go down upon it.' He burst into a flood of tears, and was so melted down, that for three hours, I was prompted both by his feelings and my own to speak of the love of Christ to poor sinners. * * * This was a night to be remembered as my reconciliation with Mr. Stables was at this time effected." The understanding thus happily brought about was never after interrupted; and Mr. Stables practically evinced the sincerity of his feelings by securing to his daughter an annuity for life. In his last illness, which occurred a few years later, Mr. Burdsall, by his own request, frequently visited him, and ministered to his spiritual wants. He died in peace on the 13th of June, 1787.

The first fruits of the union of Richard Burdsall and Mary Stables, was Mary, the subject of the present memoir--the step-sister of the Rev. John Burdsall, who still survives. She was born at York, without Bootham bar, June 19th, 1782. The house which no longer exists, stood just under the shadow of the old gateway, nearly opposite the modern crescent, known as St. Leonard's Place.

The foregoing facts, which to some may appear superfluous, are here introduced not merely with the view of making the reader acquainted with the antecedents of my honoured mother; but the much higher object of ill.u.s.trating the sovereign mercy of G.o.d, and tracing the growth of the religious element in the family. Many a page deeply interesting and instructive might be written which would unfold the grace of G.o.d in the history of particular families, flowing as a stream of light from generation to generation, or diffusing itself in the collateral branches; here swelling as "broad rivers and streams," and there narrowed down to a single channel. The causes of such alternations might be profitably investigated, and recorded. The inquiry into one's ancestry would thus answer a n.o.bler purpose than the gratification of human vanity, or the recovery of an alienated inheritance; it would exhibit the influence of the past upon the present, afford important lessons of encouragement or admonition, and discover our claim perhaps, to something better than gold or silver "for the good man"

even though he is poor, "leaveth an inheritance to his children's children." How far the moral character as well as the physical const.i.tution of a parent may affect the happiness and control the destiny of his children, is a question, which may be incapable of an exact and satisfactory solution; but the general fact, notwithstanding some strange exceptions, (which however may not be altogether incapable of explanation,) is sufficiently established, that examples of singular excellence, or notorious profligacy may usually he traced to seeds sown in a former generation. They are not therefore to be altogether regarded in the light of isolated phenomena, but as the result of causes, which may be more or less accurately determined.

At all events, G.o.d reveals himself as "a jealous G.o.d, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate him, and SHEWING MERCY UNTO THOUSANDS OF THEM THAT LOVE HIM AND KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS."

II.

EARLY DAWN.

"THOU HAST HID THESE THINGS FROM THE WISE AND PRUDENT AND HAST REVEALED THEM UNTO BABES." Matt. xi. 25.

What solemn interest surrounds the dawn of immortal existence,--that precious portion of human life, the first four or five years, which may be termed the perceptive period, too often treated as a mere blank, in which nothing is to be attempted; when the soul is all eye, all ear, continually storing up in an almost faultless memory, impressions, which go far to mould the future character, and which reason, so soon as it is able, will certainly use as part of the material out of which it must form its conclusions! How much of the future depends upon the kind of influence to which the infant mind is subjected! Happily for Mary Burdsall these early years were carefully watched and guarded. The bold and uncompromising character of her father, and the gentle piety of her mother, secured to her a combination of influences particularly favourable to the development of moral and religious feeling. Lessons of truth and love, as yet beyond the comprehension of the child, were effectively taught by means of bright and living examples; and hence grace began to operate with the first unfoldings of reason.

Her earliest recollections were a.s.sociated with the farm at Sandygate.

When about four years old, her grandfather Stables, now reconciled to his daughter, proposed to undertake the charge of Mary's training and education. This arrangement was overruled, providentially as it would seem; for Mr. S., although strictly moral and religious in his way, was a stranger to experimental G.o.dliness, and only obtained the knowledge of the truth in his last moments. The occasion of her return to her parents was probably his increasing age and infirmity, as the only impression she retained of him in after life was that of a somewhat crusty and ill-tempered old man, with a huge bobwig, who always laid in bed. His last words to her, which were vividly impressed upon her mind, were, that it was a pity she should go home to be spoiled by Methodism. The few months she spent at Sandygate were not however without some good and permanent result. Her aunt Elizabeth, who was scripturally enlightened, and in a great measure free from other engagements, solicitously occupied herself in endeavouring to impress her tender heart with divine truth. From her lips she learned to lisp the Lord's prayer, the Apostles' creed, several of Watts' divine songs, and in particular the hymn commencing

"How vain are all things here below."

With reference to this period she says in her journal:--"The spirit of G.o.d strove with me when but a little child. One time, I remember, while repeating my prayers to my aunt, the grace of G.o.d shone so sweetly upon me, I was melted down into tenderness before the Lord; and it seemed as if the glory of the Lord shone round about me, while I repeated the well-known hymn

'Glory to Thee, my G.o.d, this night.'

At another time, the Spirit of prayer was so poured upon me my sleep for a season fled. Thus the Lord brooded upon my infant mind. Glory be to his adorable name!"

Shortly after her return to York she heard the venerable founder of Methodism preach in Peaseholm Green Chapel; and though at that early age incompetent to retain any recollection of the sermon, his saintly appearance made on her imagination a vivid impression, which was perpetuated through life, and often mentioned in the family circle with the liveliest feelings of pleasure. On this occasion, the last on which he preached in York, Mr. Wesley appears to have been in one of his happiest moods, as he remarks in his journal, "The word was as fire, and all that heard it seemed to feel the power thereof;" a circ.u.mstance which no doubt greatly contributed to fix the memory of his features upon the mind of a child so young. And still more so, as the venerable man, on descending from the pulpit, placed his hand upon her head, and gave her his blessing. The Rev. J. Burdsall, who was also present, once communicated to the writer an amusing and interesting incident, that happened in course of the service, which ill.u.s.trates Mr. Wesley's love of harmony, even when, he had lost the power to create it. It is well known that he delighted to hear the men and women each take their proper part in congregational singing; but it seems in this instance, the men in the warmth of their feelings had transgressed the limits a.s.signed them. Mr. W., whose ear was offended by the slightest discord, somewhat sharply rebuked them. As this failed to produce the desired amendment, he stopped again, and said, "Listen to brother Masterman," who was at that time the leading singer. Still dissatisfied, he stopped a third time, and said, "Listen to me," at the same time taking up the strain, but as his voice was cracked, and broken with age, it afforded such a miserable example as to excite a general t.i.tter.

As a child Mary was distinguished by unusual vivacity of disposition, and her fondness for fun and frolic often betrayed her into trouble.

At times she was wilful and pa.s.sionate,--a spirit wisely checked by her mother, whose discipline was equally strict and judicious. Such ebullitions were transient, and invariably followed by feelings of regret and sorrow. Adverting to this subject in after life she said with deep grat.i.tude, "I had a good mother and father to keep me in, and restraining grace." On several occasions her life was placed in imminent peril, and, but for that merciful providence, which specially watches over the "little ones," she must have fallen a victim to her thoughtlessness. One of these occurred when she was at school; where, by some means her dress caught fire; happily the smoke and smell of burning attracted the attention of her teacher who rushed to her rescue, and succeeded in extinguishing the flames, but not until her outer garments were completely consumed. Her education was very slender, being confined to the simplest rudiments of human knowledge,--a circ.u.mstance she often regretted, although in after life the disadvantage was in a great measure overcome by diligent and select reading.

When about eight years of age, the development of her early religious feelings received a partial check through the pernicious influence of a servant girl, who perceiving her love for singing, taught her, without the knowledge of her parents, a number of foolish songs. Two years later she gave decided indications of serious thought. She began to take pleasure in being alone, and acquired a remarkable love of solitude, which characterized her through life,--a feeling which was strengthened by reading an article in one of the early "Arminian Magazines." Sometimes she would steal off to the cottage of a pious old churchwoman of the name of Halifax, who lived at a short distance from her father's house; and listened with delight, while the good old lady read to her out of the Psalms, and talked about heavenly things.

On one of these occasions she was so deeply affected by a sense of her sinfulness and accountability, that pointing to the cat which lay by the fireside, she exclaimed, "I wish I was that cat;" and when asked why, replied, "Because it has not a soul to save." The old lady gently rebuked the foolish thought, and, shewing her its wickedness, endeavoured to lead her to Him, who said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me." Not long after she began to meet in her father's cla.s.s, and received her first ticket at the hands of the Rev. Francis Wrigley, at that time Superintendent of the York circuit. By weekly intercourse with the people of G.o.d, her aspirations after divine sources of happiness gradually strengthened until she was twelve years old, when they a.s.sumed a more definite form; although, in consequence of her tender age, her views of evangelical truth were necessarily crude and defective; for she still "spake as a child, understood as a child, _reasoned_ as a child," It was during a few days' visit to her aunt Elizabeth, who now resided in the suburbs of York, having married Mr. J. Hawkins of that city shortly after her father's death, that she became so unhappy on account of her sinful and miserable condition, that she could not refrain from much weeping. The thought of entering eternity without a change of heart filled her with alarm. Every looming cloud had a voice which spoke of the judgment to come; every unpropitious event awakened painful forebodings. Her fears, which were the genuine fruits of divine influence, were further aggravated by the popular excitement of the times. France was threatening war with England, and the prevailing apprehensions of the mult.i.tude communicated themselves with double force to the heart of the sorrowing child. "What," thought she, "if they should come now, and I should be killed in my sins." Indeed her trouble increased to such a degree that her aunt was grieved, imagining that her mother would think she had been unkindly treated. She therefore resolved to take her home. On the way a number of circ.u.mstances occurred which to Mary's childish imagination were pregnant with evil, and prognosticated nothing less than the day of general doom. The city was in a state of unusual commotion, a report had gained ground that the invader was at hand, some foolish person had caused the ma.s.sive portcullis of the city gate to be let down, several recruiting parties were parading the streets, two of these she met, and the shrill blasts of a few mounted trumpeters, together with a dense and portentous cloud, which just at the moment spread itself upon the horizon, completed her dismay. She reached home in tears. Her mother, whose solicitude was awakened, inquired the cause. She replied, "Mother, I can't tell you, but nothing in this world will make me happy."

Suspecting the real state of her feelings, her mother conversed kindly with her, and administered suitable consolation, but in vain. After committing herself to G.o.d in earnest prayer, she retired to rest with the conviction, that she was the greatest sinner in the world; but the next morning, which was the holy Sabbath, broke upon her with healing in its wings. She awoke with the words in her mind,

"What a blessing to know that my Jesus is mine."

Her soul was immediately filled with a calm sweet joy, which she was unable to describe. She arose from her bed, and went to the house of G.o.d, her heart still glowing with these newly awakened emotions; and while on her way thought within herself, "O that I had a voice that would reach to all the world, I would tell them how happy I am."

This occurred on the 12th of February, 1795. But the transport of her feelings, after enduring for a season, at length subsided; yet not without leaving a permanent though perhaps not easily defined impression. It may be asked was this conversion? was it genuine? and in a child so young? We answer it would be very difficult to prove that it was not. One thing is certain, that from this time there was a settled purpose to serve the Lord, which spite of fluctuating feeling and periods of wintry coldness was steadily kept in view; ever and anon gathering strength until it ripened into maturity. The sapling, because it bends to the breeze is not therefore dest.i.tute of life; unless it be torn up by the roots, or scorched and withered by the noon-day sun, or absolutely frozen by the winter's cold, it will gradually wax and grow until its ma.s.sive trunk is able to bid defiance to the storm. Conversing on this subject with one of her children at a late period in life, when her judgment was matured, and her views of divine truth rendered more clear by her approximation to a better world, she said, "I lost my peace because I grieved the Lord by a trifling disposition, but the Lord did not leave me;" then, employing the language of the lamented David Stoner, she added, "I have been converted a hundred times." To another of her children, after using similar language she said with peculiar, emphasis, "I have been aiming to please G.o.d all my life, _I can say that_." Her conviction was that the work was real, but that at the time, she did not understand the nature of it; and hence from causes clearly ascertainable, it was as in many similar cases, soon overshadowed by circ.u.mstances of doubt.

The truth is, children are just as capable of _experiencing_ the grace of G.o.d as persons of riper years; but they are not capable of _defining_ their feelings, or of _understanding_ the great doctrines of salvation,--and for this very reason, they are more liable to be subjected to fluctuations both of feeling and purpose. It would be well if some older people, who do not take the pains to obtain a clear and intelligent view of the religion they profess, were not equally unstable and from the same cause; if there was no occasion for the apostolic admonition, "Be not _children_ in _understanding_; howbeit in malice be ye children, but in understanding be men." The feelings of children, when employed about the great subjects of religion and eternity, are not lightly to be discouraged, even when mixed up with much that a maturer judgment must condemn; they should be fostered with solicitous care. The tender plant requires gentle culture; touch it not too rudely lest you check its development; watch it carefully; support its weak and fragile stem; tenderly remove what is injurious; and give it plenty of scope, that it may put forth its young fresh leaves; and it will bloom by and by with all the richer fragrance and beauty. "Forbid them not," cries the Saviour. Let them come with their first fruits, and lay the offering of their childhood unsullied by unholy communion with the world at the Master's feet. Let them come with their cherry lips, and sparkling eyes, and loving hearts. Let them come before age has curdled their blood, and the pleasures of life have blunted the keenness of their susceptibilities. Let them come, let them come. The Saviour welcomes their approach. The fragrance of the sacrifice they bring is precious in his sight, and while he folds the little ones in his arms, he lifts his eyes to heaven, and "rejoicing in spirit, says, I thank thee O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes, even so Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight."

Providentially Mary Burdsall was under judicious direction, and retained her religious purpose although she lost the sweetness of her enjoyment. Her experience a.s.sumed that unsettled phase which often characterises the earlier stages of youthful piety. Now miserable from a consciousness of having grieved the Spirit of G.o.d, and again hopeful, confident, and happy. Sometimes she was driven even to despair, and admitted the thought that the day of grace was past for ever. One day while in this state of feeling she overheard her father conversing with a friend on the awful case of Francis Spira,[Footnote: "Francis Spira an advocate of Padua, Ann. 1545, that being desperate, by no counsell of learned men could be comforted; he felt, as he said, the pains of h.e.l.l in his soule, in all other things he discoursed aright; but in this most mad. Frismelica, Bullovat, and some other excellent physicians, could neither make him eat, drink or sleep; no persuasion could ease him. Never pleaded any man so well for himself, as this man did against himself; and so he desperately died. Springer, a lawyer, hath written his life."--_Burton's Anatomy of Melancholie_.]

her mind was filled with great horror, and she was constrained to seek refuge in prayer. While she was pleading with G.o.d the words were applied, "Turn ye at my reproof," and the snare was broken. During this period of mental conflict she steadfastly maintained her connexion with the church; and thus escaped that total loss of spiritual feeling, into which many, in similar circ.u.mstances, plunge themselves by withdrawing from the circle of religious influence.

Her exceeding volatility of temper, which was the cause of her instability, often occasioned her bitter reflections; and as it was a source of trouble to herself, excited the anxiety of her mother, who frequently said to her, "There's a wide world will tame thee." Her own words in reference to this stage of her history were, "They never turned me out of cla.s.s, but from my thoughtlessness and giddiness, I am sure, I was not a proper Methodist." Still the struggle between grace and nature was secretly going on; and every new proof of her own weakness but contributed to strengthen and establish her resolves.