Religion in Earnest Part 19

24th. THE SABBATH.

Peaceful is the Sabbath morn, Glad I welcome its return; Now Thy presence I implore, Come, and never leave me more.

It was hoped by her friends that, with the return of milder weather, her strength would rally; but from this time it gradually declined.

Her occupations were pursued as usual, but her weakness became daily more apparent; and, every now and then, intimations fell from her lips, that her "time was short," and her "work nearly done." To those around her it was evident that she was standing ready, and waiting for the coming of her Lord. This was particularly observable in the prompt.i.tude and fidelity with which she addressed all who came to the house, in terms of exhortation or warning, as if she was afraid of losing a single opportunity of speaking for her Master. Earth with its comparative trifles was fast receding from her view, and her spiritual vision occupied with the solemn and momentous scenes into which she was so soon to enter. Her daughter, who, for the purpose of ministering to her requirements, occupied the same bed-room, was often awoke, in the stillness of night, by the voice of thanksgiving and prayer; for, not content with making melody to the Lord in her heart, she gave vent to her overflowing feelings in singing and praise.

On Thursday, the 28th, the decrease of her strength was such that, although no danger was apprehended, it was deemed advisable to call in medical aid, which afforded her a momentary relief. But disease was insidiously working to an unfavourable issue, and that day she plied her needle for the last time. On Sat.u.r.day the doctor inst.i.tuted a minute examination of her lungs, and p.r.o.nounced the case one of the worst forms of bronchitis; yet still held out the hope of recovery,--a hope in which she evinced no sympathy, for, though from the nature of the complaint able to talk but little, she spoke of her affliction, not only without apprehension, but with joyful antic.i.p.ation. To the doctor, when he informed her of her danger, she expressed her confidence that "to die would be gain," and urged upon him the importance of living always in a state of preparation for death. He had no sooner left the room than, turning to her daughter, with a look of ecstacy, she said, "I am going home, Mary." In consequence of her extreme debility, the difficulty of her breathing and expectoration occasioned her much suffering, which she bore with exemplary patience; and when it was referred to, replied, "It is all right." At another time when an allusion was made to her sufferings, her reply was, "Patient the appointed race to run." Her daughter read to her the beautiful hymn, commencing, "The G.o.d of Abraham praise," to which she listened with great attention, and on coming to the lines,

"He calls a worm His friend, He calls Himself my G.o.d, And He shall save me to the end, Through Jesus' blood;"

she exclaimed, with her eyes raised to heaven, and her hands uplifted, "Glory! glory!"

During the night her daughter, who watched by her side, overheard her say, "My heart and my flesh faileth, but G.o.d is the strength of my heart, and _my portion for ever_," emphasizing the last words. It was whispered--

"And above the rest this note shall swell,"

when she instantly took up the words, and with a heavenly smile completed the stanza,

"My Jesus hath done all things well."

The same tender solicitude for others, especially those of her own family, which had ever characterized her, was still manifest in her utmost weakness. "Twice," says her daughter, "during those few anxious days, while I was standing by her bed-side, she looked at me tenderly, and said, 'The Lord bless thee, and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.' On telling her I was going to write to my brother John, she replied, 'Give my kindest love to him and Susie, and tell them to keep the _one point_ in view. To one who was ministering to her wants she said, with great earnestness, 'Oh! when one comes to the verge of another world, of what avail are all things else, if we are not on the sure foundation? My whole care is to be ready--quite ready.'"

The rapid decay of her strength seemed to produce no corresponding impression upon her mind, which, up to within a few hours of her departure, retained its wonted vigour and clearness of perception. Her utterances were carefully weighed, and she grasped the full force of the words which were spoken to her; hence, when her daughter asked if she could say

"Not a cloud doth arise To darken the skies, And hide for _one moment_ the Lord from my eyes;"

she replied, "I can't say _that_." "But," mother, "you can trust Him in the dark?" Her ready answer was, "I _can_ do that."

On Tuesday morning, July 3rd, the day preceding her removal, for some hours she appeared rather better, and on being lifted up in bed, she asked for her spectacles, the Bible, and also the hymn-book, from which she read the hymn beginning

"How do Thy mercies close me round,"

which was one of her favourites. As the day advanced her disease gained ground, but, beyond the difficulty she experienced in breathing, there was no evidence of suffering. She expressed a fear she was impatient, but it was far otherwise. Not a murmur, nor a breath of complaint pa.s.sed her lips; she possessed her soul in patience, and her language was praise and prayer. Once, while gasping for breath, she repeated at intervals, the verse

"O may I thus be found, Obedient to His word; Attentive to the trumpet's sound, And looking for my Lord."

In the afternoon her son Richard arrived from Torquay, providentially in time to witness the last solemn and mournful scene, and to administer words of comfort and encouragement. The valley was fall of light, and a momentary cloud which skirted the horizon, occasioned by the deep sense she felt of her own unprofitableness, melted away at the presence of Him whom, having not seen, she loved, and whose name was last upon her lips. My brother says, "I found her very ill, but most delighted and thankful for my arrival. 'Praise the Lord, I am glad to see you,' was her characteristic salutation. "Well, Mother, I find you resting on Jesus?" "Yes," was the reply, "but I have been so unfaithful." "You have nothing to do with that now; you must look only to Jesus. You believe His atonement is sufficient to cover all your unfaithfulness?" "Oh! yes, I do." "You know that Paul, and Mr. Wesley had nothing else to plead but this,--

'I the chief of sinners am, But Jesus died for me.'"

From that moment, looking off from herself, she trusted in Christ alone, and was fully saved and sustained by divine grace. Leaning on her Beloved, she was now ready to pa.s.s over Jordan;--not its "swellings," the stream was narrow, and neither deep nor troubled. A little time and she was on the opposite plains; but before she landed, she uttered words of triumph, the sounds of which fell faintly on our ears.

In the devotions of the evening, which we conducted in her room, she partic.i.p.ated with holy delight, and listened to the former part of the 14th chapter of St. John's Gospel, with an evident appreciation of its overflowing fulness of consolation. In Jesus she contemplated the revealed glory of the Father, and her believing "Amen" made the blessedness of the revelation all her own. After giving me some final directions, especially with respect to her ma.n.u.scripts and letters;--directions which were short and clear; and given with her wonted happy expression of countenance, and cheerfulness of manner; she gradually yielded to the force of disease. For three hours and a half she lay quiet, occasionally slumbering, but breathing heavily.

It was thus I found her in the morning at half-past two. She was quite conscious and recollected, and gave pleasing signs of recognition, but the power of speech was almost gone. She had reached the middle of the stream, but her head was lifted up above the flowing waters, for her feet were upon the Rock. Mary quoted "The Lord is good; a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knoweth them that trust in Him," and shortly after,

"Bright angels are from glory come, They're round my bed, and in my room, They come to waft my spirit home: All is well."

She caught the idea; whispered "Bright Angels," and tried to say more.

I added the precious words, "Having loved His own, He loved them to the end," also the lines of our own sweet singer;--

"And G.o.d Himself our Father is, And Jesus is our Friend."

Another effort was made to speak, and at intervals we caught the words, "Praise," "Glory," "My Father," "My Redeemer." These were the last sounds we could hear; the full expression of triumph was lost in the gentle murmurs of the river. There was yet another signal of happy and exulting confidence. For sometime, she gazed intently upward, and then around, with a look of delighted surprise; as if she "saw scenes we could not see, or heard sounds we could not hear;" and then gradually sunk into a state of unconsciousness. A few more hours terminated her _mortal_ panting after immortality; and at twenty minutes past eight, just as we commended her to G.o.d, without an effort or a struggle, she breathed her ransomed spirit into the bosom of her Lord. What was mortal remained with the mourners,--the spirit was with G.o.d.

Thus, on the 4th of July, 1860, after the toils and struggles of life, protracted to a period of seventy-eight years, and a few weeks; my beloved, and venerated mother "fell asleep." She rests in the cemetery about a mile from the city, by the side of her loved Eliza. Rich and poor united to pay the last tribute of affection and esteem; and mingled their tears at the place of her repose. A few weeks later, on a Monday evening, in the New-Street Chapel, the Rev. Thomas Nightingale, to a crowded audience, improved the event, not of her death, but of her entrance into heaven, from the words, "And it came to pa.s.s, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven."

"HER CHILDREN ARISE UP AND CALL HER BLESSED."--Prov. x.x.xi. 28.

Shall we weep or repine at the thought she is gone?

Shall we mourn for the spirit at rest?

No! her children, though many, united as one Now arise to acknowledge her blest.

Not the tongue of the world, or the praises that dwelt On the lips of report are the test; In the home, where the warmth of her presence was felt, Must you ask if a mother was blest.

We arise! we arise in the name of the Lord, Who gave us the good we possess'd; With one heart, and one voice, we unite to record Our thanks for the mother He bless'd.

Not a joy but was sweeter when she was in sight, Not a grief but we hid in her breast; And she seemed unto us as an Angel of Light: So happy the circle she blest.

We remember her counsels, oft mingled with tears; The truths by example express'd; An inheritance rich, is the wealth of her prayers: Is the child or the mother more blest?

By the light in her eye, and the smile on her face; By her "song in the night," when opprest!

By a thousand impressions we love to retrace: We know that our mother was blest.

But the soul of her joy, and its fulness she drew From the source of all others the best; For she trusted in Him, who is faithful and true, She delighted in G.o.d, and was blest.

Then, why should we weep at the thought she is gone, Since we know she hath enter'd her rest?

No! her children will follow, united as one, In her steps to the home of the blest,

J.L.

XXIV.

PLEASANT MEMORIES.

"THE MEMORY OF THE JUST IS BLESSED," Prov. x. 7.

Although the preceding pages will enable the reader to form a general estimate of Mrs. Lyth's religious character, the writer deems it necessary to add a concluding sketch, partly for the purpose of recording some particulars which could not so well be introduced elsewhere, and partly to supplement his own remarks, which might otherwise be liable to the charge of partiality, with a selection from the numerous testimonies with which he has been favoured by Ministers and other friends.

In person Mrs. Lyth was of middle stature, slender, and, before years had subdued her physical strength, straight as an arrow. Her complexion was fair, and her features, rather pointed than full, were regular and well formed. The eyes, of light blue, generally wore a calm and gentle expression, but kindled with an unearthly light when conversing on divine subjects. Then her whole soul flashed in her countenance, and her features, lit as with sunshine, indicated how deeply her spirit had drank of that "stream which maketh glad the city of G.o.d." Her hair, which in youth was of a rich auburn, turned grey at the early age of thirty, and at length its silvery hue was superseded by a snowy white, which gave additional impressiveness to a countenance upon which happiness, purity and peace sat continually enthroned. Her dress, the perfection of neatness, was modelled after the most approved style of the Society of Friends, not as now, modified and robbed of its interest by all-powerful fashion, but as it existed in its original simplicity fifty years ago. Though not gifted with any remarkable powers of mind, she possessed a sound and vigorous understanding, which however, was rather quick than penetrating. This she improved by a considerable amount of good reading. Her choice of books was in harmony with the set purpose of her life, and seldom surpa.s.sed the bounds of religious literature: for while she had no sympathy with those little minds that, on the pretence of greater religiousness despise human knowledge, she steadily kept in view the rule she adopted in early life, "never to trifle with any book with which she had no immediate concern," and consequently preferred those which, while they informed the judgment, were also calculated to impress the heart. Within this limit her reading was widely varied. To the better cla.s.s of biography, she added poetry, history, philosophy, and divinity. Her favourite poet was Young, from whom she often quoted at length; her favourite divine, Wesley; and her favourite book the Bible. This last she not uncommonly read upon her knees, seeking the a.s.sistance and blessing of the Holy Spirit, who is the best expositor of His own word. Her knowledge of scripture was remarkable, and her apprehension of its great doctrines distinct and clear as noonday.

"With increasing ardour she continued to dig in this inexhaustible mine of truth, until the close of life, and within the last three or four years waded through the greater part of Henry's Commentary.

Her study of divine truth was mainly prosecuted with a view to its experience and practice; and hence her piety a.s.sumed that rare and exalted character which develops itself evenly in all the various relations of life. In her, the image of Christ was not, as in too many instances, caricatured; but presented in its just and fair proportions; and, as a necessary consequence, Impressed all who came in contact with her with the certain conviction of its genuineness.

Zealous in the church, she was equally active and faithful at home.

_Little_ duties were not neglected on the pretext of performing others of a higher character. By a strict economy of time, which she prized more than, gold; by early rising, method and punctuality, she found time for everything; so that her house was a pattern of neatness and order, and her family was as well provided for as though she had no public duties to perform. "She looked well to her own household, and ate not the bread of idleness." Naturally of an active temper of mind, she was always employed; and, from an habitual consciousness of her responsibility, well employed. Her hand was ready at every turn, and knew nothing of that silly squeamishness which leads a woman to suppose that she demeans herself by meddling with household affairs.

Fond of singing, and possessed of a good voice, she lightened her daily toil with the voice of song, and discharged the humblest duties as a sacrifice well-pleasing to G.o.d. Her conscientiousness in little things was remarkable. She was a determined enemy of all trifling and t.i.ttle-tattle, as not only unbecoming the Christian character, but destructive of religious feeling; and the consciousness of having uttered a useless word, or engaged in unprofitable conversation, always occasioned her pain. Among other peculiarities she displayed a singular aversion to debt, and if by any means such an obligation, however small, was incurred, she never rested until it was discharged.