Part 15

So indeed she seemed to herself, when sin _appeared_ sin. God was now uncovering her heart, and convincing her of original sin. The _old man of sin_ was more and more revealed, till at last she saw that her _inward parts were very wickedness, and every imagination of the thoughts of her heart only evil continually_. She had no power to pray or praise, or so much as to think one good thought, and at the same time was so torn and distracted with doubts and fears, that she dispaired even of life. That thought above all tormented her, “What would become of me, if I should die in this darkness? Without holiness no one shall see the Lord.” At other times she had a faint persuasion, that God would finish his work before he called her hence.

She durst not say she had faith, or any interest in Christ; and yet she could not give it up. One little spark of hope lay as at the very bottom of her heart; which was Christ’s hold of her. He would not quit his purchase, or let her go.

Even this was often a great trouble to her, that she could not fear death as formerly; (for this fear was entirely cast out the first moment she was sensible of her justification). And, whenever she had the least comfort or peace, she started back as it were, and feared to take hold of it, suspecting that she was falling asleep again, and resting without Christ. She went mourning all the day long, and refused to be comforted, because he was not.

For many days and months she walked on still in darkness, and had no light, but _against hope believed in hope_; staggering oftentimes, but not falling through unbelief. Still she bore up under her continual fears of being a castaway. She waited in a constant use of all the means of grace; never missed the communion, or hearing the word, though all was torment to her, for she never found benefit; nothing she said, affected her, there was none so wicked as her. I am a witness to her many complaints and wailings. Yet she persisted with a glorious obstinacy; and _followed on to know the Lord, walking in all his commandments and ordinances blameless_. She went on steadily in the way of her duty, never intermitting it on account of her inward conflicts. Not slothful in business, but working almost continually with her own hands. Most strict was she, and unblameable in all her relative duties, and in all manner of conversation. Those who lived with her never heard a light and trifling word come out of her mouth. She did not sit _still_, till she should be pure in heart, but redeemed the time, and bought up every opportunity of doing good. To do good she never forgot, but spoke to all, and warned all, both children and grown persons, as God delivered them into her hands. She was exceeding tender-hearted towards the sick, whether in body or soul. She could not _rejoice with those that rejoiced_, but she _wept with those that wept_, and encouraged them to wait upon God, to be never weary of well-doing; for in the end said she, they would reap, if they fainted not.

*See here a pattern of true mourning! A spectacle for men and angels! A soul standing up under the intolerable weight of original sin! Troubled on every side! perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted by sin, the world, and the devil, but not forsaken; cast out, but not destroyed; walking on as evenly under that load of darkness, as if she had been in the broad light of God’s countenance. Whosoever thou art that seekest Christ sorrowing, _go thou and do likewise_.

In this agony she continued, till it pleased God to visit her with her last sickness. For the two or three first days, she could not be kept from the word, but was then constrained to take her bed. She had early notice of her departure, and told one of her band, that she should not recover. She had express’d great earnestness to see me, but I could not visit her ’till the Thursday following. I then found her, to her own sense and feeling, in utter despair. “I am dying, (she cried) without pardon, without a Saviour, without hope.” I prayed in full assurance of faith, and then testified the love of Christ to her, a lost sinner; declaring to her, that he would fulfil in her the work of faith with power. “My soul for your’s (I told her) if you depart hence, before your eyes have seen his salvation. Yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry. The word of our God shall stand for ever. Every one that seeketh findeth. Fear not; behold, he comes quickly; and one moment of his presence will make you abundant amends for all the pain of absence.”

When I was gone, her sufferings rather increased, and Satan raged the more. The lyon tore her as it were to pieces: she was in a mighty conflict, and said, “None knows what I have gone thro’ in this sickness; my enemy triumphs over me; it is the hour of darkness, it is more than I am able to bear.”

*_The captive exile hasteneth that she may be loosed, and that she should not die in the pit, nor that her bread should fail._ This trial was the severest of all. “The devil (she said) besets me sorely, I shall never hold out; I shall perish at last; but if I am lost I am content: tho’ I go down to hell, let but Christ be with me, and I will go without fear.” Here she seemed to be strengthened to endure a greater agony. She drank of the cup which her Lord drank of, and had fellowship in those sufferings, which made him cry out, _My_ God _my_ God, _why hast thou forsaken me_! To compleat her distress, the angel of death came! She was struck and changed on a sudden (so that one came and told me she was just a dying.) Then as man would judge, she let go her hold of God: And _the spirit failed before him, and the soul which he had made_.

*In this dreadful moment, this last extremity, this deepest distress the human soul is capable of――the Comforter came. The Lord, her Saviour, came suddenly to his temple, _as lightening shineth from one end of the heaven unto the other, so was the coming of the Son of man_. He took away the veil from her heart, and revealed himself in her, in a manner the world knoweth not of. She broke out, “Now I know that Christ died for me. He has washed me from all my sins in his precious blood. I have eternal life abiding in me.”

Soon after she had found redemption, I called, and saw her in full triumph of faith. O how unlike what she was at my last visit! _If any man is in Christ he is a new creature._ This is the work which despisers _will not believe, tho’ a man declare it unto them_. Her soul was passed from death unto life, an hidden, everlasting life in God. After we had prayed she witnessed a good confession. “I believe in Jesus Christ; I feel the truth of these words of his, _I am the resurrection and the life_. I have no fear, no doubt, no trouble. Your words were true: he has fulfilled his promise.”

*Never did I behold a soul so filled. Some of her words were, “Now indeed he has made me amends for my waiting. Blessed be God, all my pain is nothing; I have suffered nothing. I smell the sweet odour of the name of Jesus. His smell is as the smell of _Lebanon_. Who is so sweet as my Beloved? My Beloved is mine, and I am his. I love Jesus Christ with all my heart. I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ. But his will be done. I have no will of my own.” While I was saying, “Doubt not, but be persuaded that neither life nor death, nor things present nor things――” She interrupted me with “No, no, I cannot doubt, altho’ I did doubt. I cannot fear now; perfect love hath cast out fear. I have full redemption in the blood of Jesus.”

*To her sisters she had said before I came, “Heaven is open! I see Jesus Christ with all his angels and saints in white. And I am joined to them. I shall never be parted more. I see what I cannot utter or express! Cannot you see Jesus Christ? There, there he stands, ready to receive you all. O do not doubt of the love of Jesus: look on me! If he has taken me into his bosom, who needs despair? Fear not, fear not. He is loving unto every man: _I believe Christ died for all_.”

Her first words, after I left her, were, “Liberty liberty! This is the glorious liberty of the sons of God! I know it, I see it, I feel it. Believe, believe there is such a liberty! And he will give it you. _I am sanctified wholly, spirit, soul and body._”

She had spent the time, while I was absent, in fervent prayer; and at my third visit told me, “I have whatsoever I ask. I have asked life for my mother and sisters, and have obtained it.” I took the opportunity, and put her upon praying for the peace of _Jerusalem_, for union, and for the preachers of reprobation, that God might open their eyes; for my brother, and for the lambs of this fold, that they might not be turned out of the way.

The fourth time I came to see her, they told me she had been in a great conflict; oftentimes repeating, “I will wrestle with thee for a blessing, I will not let thee go unless thou bless him. Bless that soul! Give him the thing I ask.” At last, she said, “Now I am more than conqueror. I have the petitions I ask. Not one is unanswered.”

To me, she said, “I have power with God, and with man, and have prevailed.”

From expounding at the _Malt-room_, I returned the last time, and found her ready for the Bridegroom. Her every word was full of power, and life, and love. It was the Spirit of her Father which spoke in her. She had been wrestling again, and making intercession for the saints, and all mankind; particularly our own church and nation. Some of her words were, “Thy judgments are abroad in the earth; O that the inhabitants of this land may learn righteousness! Grant me, sweet Jesus, that they may repent and live.” She prayed fervently for the society, that they might abide in the word, keep close together, and be all of one heart and mind. There is a curse upon them, (said she) a curse of unthankfulness; but I have prayed my dear Lord to remove it, and he will remove it.”

When one of her sisters came to see her, who was deeply mourning for Christ, she laboured much to comfort her, bad her look at her, so miserable and hopeless an unbeliever lately; and assured her the Comforter should quickly come. At the sight of her sister’s tears, O how sweetly did she lament over her! I never saw such sympathy! The spirit in her mourned like a turtle-dove, and made intercession with groanings that cannot be uttered.

*All the time of her sickness, she never once complained, or shewed the least sensibility of pain, or that she had any body at all. When one asked her if she did not feel her pains, being then in strong convulsions, she answered, “My pain is great, but I do not feel it. It does not trouble me. I chuse it rather than ease; for my Lord chuses it. Pain or ease, life or death, ’tis all one. The Spirit beareth witness with my spirit, that I am a child of God: I have the earnest of mine inheritance in my heart. I have no will. I am made perfect in love.”

I asked, whether that peace which she tasted above a year ago, was the same she now enjoyed? She answered, “It was of the same kind, in the lowest or first degree. It surely was justification.”

After I went, she said, “This day shall I be with him in paradise. Within four and twenty hours I shall be with my Beloved.”

*She continued all night in the labour of love, making powerful supplication for all men. About three on Sunday morning she said, “It is finished.” All suffering even for others ceased from that moment, and she began the new song, which shall never end. Her whole employment now was the same with theirs, to whom she was come, the innumerable company of angels, the church of the first-born. She sang to the harpers harps, without any intermission, till two in the afternoon; even while they were giving her cordials, she sang. Her hope was full of immortality, her looks of heaven, till with smiles of triumph she resigned her spirit into the hands of her dear Redeemer. Death wanted all its pomp and circumstances of horror. She went away without an agony, or sigh, or groan. She only rested; and sweetly fell asleep in the arms of Jesus.

A LETTER to the Rev. Mr. JOHN WESLEY. By a GENTLEWOMAN.

_Laton-Stone_, November 8, 1764.

Reverend and dear Sir,

I HAVE never yet had an opportunity of fully laying before you, the reasons of my coming to reside at this place, and the nature of my employment here, which I will now take the liberty to do.

During my former abode among this people, they were often laid on my mind in prayer, and I was often greatly comforted, by an hope, that they would one day hear and receive the gospel.

Removing from these parts in February, 1761, those thoughts were taken from me, for a season: but after a year and an half, being providentially called to return hither, the same thoughts returned into my mind. Yet I could not easily consent to leave _London_, till I had, with my friend, laid it before the Lord; being fully persuaded, that if it was of God, he would make plain paths for our feet.

Soon after, many outward providences confirmed us, in our belief, that it was God’s appointment. His Spirit also shone clearer upon our souls, and convinced us, it was a cross which he called us to take up. One day in particular, when my friend and I were laying it before him in prayer, he condescended to assure her, that he would _not send us a warfare at our own charges_. I thought, _let not my Lord be angry, and I will ask_ yet one sign more. This was the settling of an affair, which seemed to man impossible. And it was settled within a few days. O God, who can stay thy hand?

But no sooner was my design mentioned to others, than it was vehemently opposed, one in particular charged me not to go, saying, “It was all a scheme of the devil.” Either that night, or the next, I dreamed I was at _Laton-Stone_, and a great number of all sorts of people about me. I was prest in spirit to speak to them; but being pained at the appearance of many gay ones among them, I said, in the anguish of my soul, “Lord, what do I here among this people?” Immediately I thought Jesus came down, and stood just before me. The brightness of his presence so overcame me, that there was no strength left in me. He said, “I will send you to a people, that are not a people; and I will go with you: bring them unto me. I will lay my hand upon them, and heal them: fear not; only believe.” He then disappeared, leaving me quite penetrated with his presence and his words. After having wept some time, I thought I told the people what the Lord had said. About half seemed serious and attentive, and desirous of being separated from the rest. I thought I was to find them a place to meet in: in order to which, I was obliged to walk over a floor no thicker than a wafer: however, I went over, and not a splinter gave way under my feet. Soon after I awoke with these words, “The mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”

Our fears were now removed, and on March 24, 1763, we came to this house, in obedience to what we believed the will of our heavenly Father. We came, trusting in him; and, blessed be God, we have not trusted him in vain.

From the first hour we found his presence with us, but did not see, for what end we were come. We therefore _stood still to see_ his _salvation_. Mean time we determined, to live by rule in every thing: and in order to supply the want of the public means, from which we were in great measure cut off, we agreed to spend an hour every evening, part in reading to the family, and part in private prayers. The first book we read was, “The Rebuke to Backsliders, and Spur to Loiterers.” And glory be to God, our meeting has hitherto never been in vain.

In about a week, a poor woman whom I had formerly talked with, coming to ask charity, desired to know, if she might not come when we went to prayers? I told her, she might at seven in the evening. She did so, as did two or three more soon after. We then appointed them to come on Thursday nights. In a little time they were increased to above twenty. We now thought it best, to talk with them, and that as closely as we could. Some were quickly offended and came no more. Some appeared convinced of sin. These we desired to come to us on Tuesday nights; and the second time we met, two of them found peace with God.

A little before this, we judged the time was come to have public preaching here. This was a close trial to _me_, such as few can conceive, unless they have been in the same situation. But I knew, whosoever would not _forsake all_, could not be Christ’s disciple: seeing he had said, _If any man love father or mother more than me, he is not worthy of me_.

We then applied to you, and the next Sunday, May the 25th, Mr. _Murlin_ preached the first sermon. This continued every other Sunday, though not without considerable opposition. In November, Mr. _Morgan_ received twenty-five into the society, and divided them into two classes. Ah Lord! How many of these shall I meet at the resurrection of the just!

But a new scene now opened. The reasons on which I proceeded, I will lay before you as plainly as I can.

From a child I have ever believed, God had appointed me for some work, in which I should be much blest, if I was faithful; but that if I took up with any thing less than I was called to, I should only be saved as by _fire_. Often have I panted after an outward, as well as inward conformity to the will of God; greatly desiring to live as the first Christians did, when _all that believed were of one soul_, and counted not _any of the things they possessed_ their own. But I saw the time was not yet come; yet I could not but believe, in your day something of this kind would be.

When I was about seventeen, the Lord was pleased to shew me, that I was not to build tabernacles here. For none of those ways I had cut out for myself, were such as he had appointed for me. I cannot better describe what I then felt, than by transcribing part of a letter to a friend.

“The Lord has been merciful above all I can ask or think. I found a greater blessing the last time I was in town than ever.”――And within this day or two, I see much more clearly the way in which I ought to walk. The Lord seems to call me to much more activeness, so that I am sometimes ready to cry out, “Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?” Then I considered, Can I do more for the souls or bodies of those about me? But this does not seem to be the thing. *What I am now led to wish for is, to serve those that are in Christ, both with soul and body. And as soon as the Lord has prepared me for his work, and set me at liberty, my firm resolution is, by the grace of God, to be wholly given up to the church. I plainly see, I have no more to do with the world, than to allow myself the bare necessaries of life. And tho’ it has pleased God, I should not have my living to work for, that is no reason my hands should be idle. I would be as those described by St. _Paul_, _to bring up children, to lodge strangers_, to be ready for the meanest offices, to _relieve the afflicted_, to _visit the fatherless and widows, and diligently follow after every good work_.”

_Epping-Forest, May 23, 1757._

I have ever since found the same impressions on my soul; and when we came to this house, I felt a kind of rest I did not before, as if I was where God would have me to be. But one day reflecting, that we had more room than we wanted, and thinking, whom I should take in to fill it, it was strongly imprest upon my mind, _He that believeth shall not make haste_. Not long after the thought of _bringing up children_ returned. But I was afraid of making haste; till it appeared from many reasons to be the will of God, that we should take in one that offered. Soon after we were induced to receive another, and presently two more. I now saw our family would be an increasing one; as we could not bring up even these children properly, without a person whose constant business it should be, to teach them during the school-hours. For it was impossible we should do it long, while we were necessarily employed in so many other things. I knew this, and the other expences which must attend the keeping six or seven children, would require an hundred a year more than I had. But I remembered again, _The Lord liveth, and truly hitherto he hath helped us_.