LIBRA^RY 
 
 Theological Seminary, 
 
 BV 4907 .B44 1845 
 Beith, Alexander, 1799-1891 
 Sorrowing, yet rejoicing, 
 or. Narrative of recent 
 
 Book,,, 
 
 
SORROWING, YET REJOICING: 
 
 NARRATIVE 
 
 RECENT SUCCESSIVE BEBEAVEMENTS 
 
 MINISTER'S FA3IILY. 
 
 " What sh:\l! I say t lie hath both spoken unto 
 me, aiid Himself liatli doiii' it: I shall go aoftJy 
 all my ytars in the bitterness of my soul." — 
 Isaiah, xxxviii, 15. 
 
 SIXTH EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 EORERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET. 
 PITTSBURG :— THOMAS CARTER. 
 
 1845. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The domestic afBlction described in tbe following 
 pages, excited the sympatiiy of many, even stran- 
 gers to the sufferers, who at the time heard of it. 
 Circumstances connected with this season of trial, 
 in which God was pleased to show the riches and 
 power of his grace, have suggested the publication 
 of the Narrative. Fi lends, whose judgment was 
 worthy to be trusted, were of opinion that the 
 knowledge of those circumstances ought not to 
 be contiiied to tiie narrow circle in which they oc- 
 curred. And a hope, that a short account of them 
 may prove useful, through the Divine blessing, has 
 overcome the reluctance which must ever be felt 
 to disclose to the public eye, either the privacy of 
 the domestic hearth, or the secret feelings of the 
 niiTid, on such an occasion. 
 
 In the sick rooms of our dear children, whilst 
 watcliijig by tlie.in, I found sevi ral little books, 
 which, in the days of health, pious friends had sent 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 them, — rccoids of those who, in chiliibnod nnd 
 early youth, had been cnlled away from the tender 
 affection of earthly parents to dw( 11 in their heav- 
 enly Father's honse, — books which we had oftrn 
 perused t05»efher, and of which we had often con- 
 versed, but whose va(ae 1 Iiati never justly appre- 
 ciated till now. Though unpretending in their ai> 
 pearance, I recognised in them friendly visitors for 
 auch a time as this. By them the good Shepherd 
 spoke to us, saying, — "As many as I love, I re- 
 buke and chasten;" "Fear not:" "When thou 
 passest through the waters, I will be with thee." 
 If the following pages be blessed to accomplish the 
 same end to other sufferers in the hour of domestic 
 affliction, and be made effectual, in any measure, 
 to "turn the heart of the fathers to the children, 
 and the heart of the children to their fathers," 
 the object of the writer will be fully accomplished. 
 
 Mansk of G , Inverness-Shirb. 
 
SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 "Jehovah hear thee in the day 
 VViien trouble he doth send." 
 
 About a year ago, only, our family 
 consisted of seven dear children, — the 
 oldest twelve, the youngest approach- 
 ing two years of age, — five being girls, 
 and two boys. They were then in the 
 enjoyment ol perfect health. In the 
 preceding winter they had had mea- 
 sles, but the complaint on running its 
 course, though preceded by influenza, 
 seemed only to have strengthened 
 Ulieir constitutions. No serious ail- 
 ment had ever afflicted any of them, 
 and no breach had ever been made in 
 their number. Residing in a remote 
 
6 SORROWING, YET REJOICINQ. 
 
 and secluded situation, at a distance 
 from relations aad friends, they knew 
 no society but that of each other ; and, 
 happy in this, they had never desired 
 to know more. Like " olive plants," 
 they grew up around our table, and the 
 goodness of the Lord to us in them of- 
 ten filled our hearts. 
 
 At the above mentioned period, 
 hooping-cough appeared in our parish 
 Of a mild type, though we avoided ex- 
 posing the children to infection, when 
 it seized them we felt no alarm ; nor, 
 such being its character, did we regret 
 that it had taken them. A more fa- 
 vourable season could not have been 
 desired, but, strong in hope, we anti- 
 cipated the result which had followed 
 measles, and rejoiced in the prospect of 
 ourdarhngs surpassing both complaints, 
 not in safety only, but with comparative 
 ease. These shoals passed, — the most 
 
CHAPTER I. 7 
 
 dangerous to bodily health which beset 
 the outset of life — we looked forward 
 with confidence to the voyage which lay 
 beyond. We had ever sought for them, 
 from Him who had given them exis- 
 tence, "first the kingdom of God and 
 his righteousness;" but, knowing the 
 value of the promise, we had also often 
 asked that their " days might be long 
 upon the land," — and we expected the 
 blessing for his own name's sake. But 
 perhaps we too much forgot that " God's 
 thoughts are not our thoughts," and that 
 " by terrible things in righteousness," he 
 often, as " the God of salvation," an- 
 swers prayer. 
 
 The season, as all will remember, 
 became extremely rigorous towards the 
 close of the year, and continued so until 
 the summer months. Nothing unusual 
 appeared in the case of the children 
 before the close of January ; but they 
 
8 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 then began to suffer from fever, — al- 
 ways an attendant of hooping-cough. 
 In the commencement, and during a 
 great part of the progress of the disease, 
 they had none ; when it appeared, as 
 we knew it to be a natural symptom, 
 no alarm was produced. For a consid- 
 erable period the severity of the fever 
 did not amount to what caused any 
 alteration in their usual habits, — they 
 were still able to attend the governess, 
 and to proceed with their studies. But 
 towards the end of January and begin- 
 ning of February, Matilda, our eldest, 
 became so much oppressed, that she 
 was withdrawn from the school-room; 
 and, as her mother had been in delicate 
 health, she became her companion 
 during her convalescence. After a 
 little, however, the fever seemed to yield 
 to the usual treatment, and her speedy 
 recovery was expected with confidence. 
 
— ® 
 
 CHAPTER I. y 
 
 The other children also, soon after this, 
 became worse, and were conlined to 
 the sick-roora ; but they soon be:ian to 
 amend, and appeared rapidly recurring 
 to their wonted health. The cough 
 had nearly disappeared, — its severity 
 was quite gone^ and, Avith the antici- 
 pated fine weather of spring, we hoped 
 that all would be well again. 
 
 Whoever has read Mr. Bickersteth's 
 " Domestic Portraiture" of Mr. Rich- 
 mond's family, must have been struck 
 with the truth, as well as beauty, of the 
 remarks occurring there on the difficul- 
 ty of judging of the state of the religi- 
 ous feeling in young persons. Diffidence 
 and backwardness to speak of their 
 spiritual condition, natural to youth, 
 and for the most part so becoming at 
 that period, chiefly operate to produce 
 this. Yet there is nothing more deep- 
 ly exciting to the mind of a parent who 
 
10 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 knows the value of the soul, when dan- 
 gerous sickness has seized the youth- 
 ful group, than to be assured of the state 
 of their hearts in the sight of God, — as 
 holy Mr, Richmond's feelings, describ- 
 ed in the work alluded to, testify. 
 Death, in any circumstances, is in it- 
 self dreadful; but when we know or 
 have good reason to hope, that the " se- 
 cond death" shall have no power over 
 those who are about to be torn from 
 us, the last euerhy is stripped of all his 
 terrors. Parents, therefore, may some- 
 times be relieved of much distress by 
 remembering that children are not to be 
 judged of as those who have come to 
 maturer years. And that discoveries 
 may be made of their spiritual state, 
 calculated to fill the hearts of parents 
 with adoring gratitude, and their 
 mouths with praise, our happy experi- 
 ence, which we desire to record for the 
 
CHAPTER I. 11 
 
 direction and comfort of others, testi- 
 fies. Though " slow to speak," chil- 
 dren may be " swift to hear ;" and, 
 when living in a spiritual atmos|ihere, 
 when the conversation listened to by 
 them, the books read, and the example 
 witnessed tend heavenward, like the 
 unobtrusive plant which, unnoticed, 
 imbibes nourishment from every geni- 
 al breath, tlieir youthful minds may be 
 secretly extracting, from the various in- 
 fluences to which they are subjected, 
 that " hidden wisdom" which, as it is 
 by the Spirit, ultimately produces " fruit 
 unto life eternal." Hence it follows, 
 that parents who endeavour to train 
 their childen " in the nurture and admo- 
 nition of the Lord," — all whose exer- 
 tions in the use of means are accom- 
 panied with persevering earnest prayer, 
 are not entitled to concljJe that He is 
 not dealing savingly with their souls, — 
 
12 SORROWING, YET RKJOICING. 
 
 that no effectual change is being 
 wrought, because the spiritual conver- 
 sation ■which ihey desiderate is awan- 
 ting, or because they still see in their 
 children, the gay vivacity which health 
 and the society of each other naturally 
 produce. Nor when sickness comes, 
 and the conversation then turns on the 
 solemn things of the soul and eternity, 
 are they always to suppose that the 
 feeling in them which promotes this 
 exercise has had its origin in the alter- 
 ed circumstances in which they are 
 then placed. Natural fear operating 
 on an alarmed conscience may some- 
 times account for it ; but affliction, loo, 
 may be the means of quickening the 
 living seed w^hich Avas previously sown 
 in silence, and of forcing to rapid ma- 
 turity those spiritual buddings which, 
 hitherto, they knew not whether to 
 consider tares or wheat ; and to judge 
 
CHAPTER I. 13 
 
 of this as in every other case no more 
 than the production of days of darkness 
 contrasted with those of youthful joy, 
 would argue but little knowledge of 
 human nature, and would be applying 
 to children a rule by which they ought 
 not to be tried. 
 
 From the womb they may be sanc- 
 tified, but the developement of the work 
 of the Spirit, so that it may be seen of 
 men, must await God's time ; and it 
 will ever be in perfect consistency with 
 their circumstances and opportunities ; 
 though Christians, they will still be 
 children. In the case of the sickly 
 who, from this cause, are, in their ear- 
 liest years, separated from those of 
 their own age, and who, as they cannot 
 engage in their childish sports, cease to 
 have a relish for them, and are thus 
 thrown almost entirely into the society 
 of the advanced in life, — when a work 
 
14 SORROWING, YET RFJOICING. 
 
 of grace really exists, the displays of its 
 exercise will be powerfully affected by 
 circumstances of such a nature. In 
 cases of this kind, most remarkable tes- 
 timonies have often been borne to the 
 power of divine grace in children of al- 
 most infantile years, characterised by 
 a depth of reflection, an extent of know- 
 ledge, and a maturity of understanding, 
 incredible to those who have not wit- 
 nessed it. Facts corroborative of this 
 remark are innumerable. But the good 
 seed may be sown in childhood, and 
 remain in the heart where no such ex- 
 ternal influences prevail to urge it to a 
 precocious ripeness. The productive- 
 ness may then differ in degree, but it 
 will accord in nature with the other. 
 The wounded branch, ere it die, may 
 put forth what appears an unnatural 
 energy, and may bend to the earth 
 with its load ; but the scanty fruit 
 
CHAPTER I. 15 
 
 and richer folia^fe of llie healthy, will, 
 lie less certainly, itidicate the charac- 
 ter of the " root" from which they 
 mutually derive their productiveness. 
 A season of affliction, such as passed 
 over us, may come, when the luxuriance 
 of harvest, unlocked for so soon, how- 
 ever desired, may be made most rapidly 
 to appear. But, should such a time be 
 withheld, years may pass, and the 
 events of life appoar to produce their 
 usual efT.'Cts ; the " clods of the val- 
 ley" may seem to triumph, and the la- 
 bours of a pious upbringing to fail ; 
 until at last " the time to favour" ar- 
 rives, and the power that is not " of 
 the will of the flesh nor of the will of 
 man" is exerted, " until the Spirit is 
 poured from on high ;" then " the wil- 
 derness becomes a fruitful field, and 
 the fruitful field is counted for a forest," 
 and the ransomed of the Lord are seen 
 
16 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 to be at once a chosen generation and 
 a pecvliar people. In proof of which 
 remark, witness, once more, the history 
 of Mr. Richmond's family. 
 
 Reflections such as these were often 
 strongly suggested amidst the health 
 and happiness which our youthful 
 group so long enjoyed ; and they con- 
 stituted the source of much consolation 
 when troulilous times at last overtook 
 them. With prayerful expectation we 
 often looked forward to the period when 
 their light should "break fonli as the 
 morning," when personal godliness, 
 with usefulness in their day and gene- 
 ration, should testify to the reality of 
 that spiritual life, indications of the 
 existence of which, we sometimes 
 hoped, we already discovered. But 
 God had provided some better thing 
 for us ; for times and seasons are in 
 his power. 
 
CHAPTER I. 17 
 
 The education which we had en- 
 deavoured to give our children might be 
 truly said to be Scriptural. Whilst 
 secular learning was prosecuted with 
 much success, every exertion was made, 
 in and out of the £chool-room, to store 
 their minds with the Word of God. 
 The great truth was ever kept before 
 them, ''that the wisdom which cometh 
 from above," — the saving knowledge 
 of God, is alone truly important, — that 
 this is the one thing needful, whilst all 
 the rest might be dispensed with. 
 Catechetical instruction was confined 
 to the Mother^s a^d Assembly's Cate- 
 chisms ; and, with these, hymns, tracts, 
 and religious narratives, suited to their 
 capacity, were largely furnished them, 
 and eagerly perused. And, though last 
 in this enumeration, certainly not least 
 m importance, was the proving of Scrip- 
 ture truths from the inspired Word. 
 2 
 
18 SORRO\\aNG, VET REJOICING. 
 
 Under this discipline, we were frequent- 
 ly amazed at the clear comprehension 
 of Christian doctrine, in all its bear- 
 ings, manifested by them. We knew, 
 indeed, but too truly, that mere human 
 acquirement may be mistaken for spir- 
 itual life, — the illumination of the un- 
 derstanding for a change of heart ; but 
 we also knew that God can dwell in 
 the soul of a child, that he can quicken, 
 as well as gi^^e light; and, conscious 
 as we were of imperfection and short- 
 coming in all that we did our secret 
 thoughts at times suggested, that " flesh 
 and blood" had not* revealed to them 
 what they knew. 
 
 On one occasion, when the exercises 
 of the evening of the Sabbath were 
 past, and the other children had retired, 
 Matilda being alone with her mother, 
 she said to her, — " How concerned ara 
 I, Matilda, that you should yeeZ, as well 
 
CHAPTER I. 19 
 
 as know the truth." After some hesi- 
 tation, and as if ashamed to confess it, 
 she answered, " Mamma, I do feel, and 
 I have been nights that I have not 
 slept under anxiety about my soul." 
 In her illness, we ascertained that she 
 had been much awakened during the 
 prevalence of cholera in the country, 
 though the pestilence had never visited 
 our neighborhood, and that then, though 
 little more than six years of age, she 
 had often retired for secret prayer on 
 other occasions besides her stated sea- 
 sons. Sermons heard had also some- 
 times aroused her. She spoke of one 
 particularly from Psalms xxv. 11, 
 preached by Mr. M'Donald, Urquhart, 
 on the occasion of the baptism of a 
 little sister, and repeated its divisions 
 and particulars. All these things, we 
 are now fully persuaded, were the gra- 
 cious strivings of that mighty, though 
 
20 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 unseen power, which, unperceived in 
 its operations, can reveal to babes the 
 hidden mysteries of true godliness, 
 when they are concealed from the wise 
 and prudent. 
 
 Though saving impressions may be 
 borne down, they are not of necessity 
 uprooted, by the hilarity and playfulness 
 of healthy childhood. The impetuosity 
 of the current may bend, so as to cover 
 and conceal the plants of heavenly 
 growth which have sprung in the heart; 
 but when occasions arrive which cause 
 this current to subside, they raise their 
 heads again, where they exist, with 
 undiminished vigour. Dispensations 
 which bring eternity near to the youthful 
 mind, constitute such occasions : for 
 then the word of truth bears most 
 powerfully upon the conscience. A 
 season of this kind was granted our 
 family when measles entered it, — a 
 
CHAPTER I. 21 
 
 year previous to the visitation of hoop- 
 ing-cough. Neither did tlie children nor 
 we at any time apprehend a fatal termi- 
 nation ; but so much of serious and 
 solemn feeling was produced in all, the 
 usual flow of animal spirits was so 
 subdued, as to afford, iu our apprehen- 
 sion, a favourable opportunity to test 
 the tenderness of their hearts with re- 
 ference to divine things. How great, 
 then, was our delight to see them — es- 
 pecially the older ones, — eagerly turn, of 
 their own accord, to the one blessed sub- 
 ject, and desire only the Word of God, 
 with such looks as exhibited its truths, 
 to be read to them ! How cheerfully were 
 their oft-repeated requests to be gratified 
 in this way complied with! And how 
 blessed the reflection then, but especi- 
 ally now, that in such occupation they 
 sought and found their happiness, — 
 their parentsnever appearing so beloved 
 
22 SORKOWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 by them as when conversing on, and re 
 commending the things which belonged 
 to their everlasting peace ! I shall never 
 forget my sensation of sanctified plea- 
 sure on the occasion of their recovery 
 from their ailment, when I invited them 
 into my study, that we might together 
 acknowledge the good providence of 
 God, and give him thanks that they 
 had all been brought in safety through 
 a dangerous disease, — their alacrity to 
 engage in the duty, — their solemnity 
 when engaged, and their deep feeling 
 when it ended. Alas ! little did I then 
 think, that in one short twelvemonth 
 I should be weeping over the grave of 
 those who then were most affected ! 
 But how different should be my tears, 
 had I not such recollections to dwell on, 
 and could I not recall those occasional 
 gleams of heavenly sunshine, which 
 formed the precursors of that glorious 
 
CHAPTER 1. 23 
 
 illumination which it pleased the Lord 
 to shed upon their latter end ! 
 
 Let not parents ■who desire to be 
 faithful, think lightly of the slightest 
 intimations of feehng in their tender 
 offspring. The folly bound up in their 
 hearts may shade the work of the Lord, 
 without extinguishing it. Let them 
 watch and pray over " the good thing" 
 which He may have found there ; in 
 due time they may reap, if they faint 
 not. 
 
 Matters continued with our poor in- 
 valids much as I have already describ- 
 ed them, until about the middle of the 
 month of Maich. I had engaged to as- 
 sist at the Communion in Glasgow, 
 which was to be celebrated in the be- 
 ginning of April, and it now approach- 
 ed the time at which it should be ne- 
 cessary for me to leave home. The 
 medical attendant had recommended 
 
24 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 change of air for them all, and especial- 
 ly for Matilda, who had by this time so 
 far recovered as to make it advisable 
 that she should accompany me. A 
 beloved aunt of hers, who had passed 
 the winter with us, and whose conver- 
 sations on religious topics, Matilda told 
 us afterwards she believed had been 
 blessed to her, was about to be married 
 to another valued relative, acd our 
 dear child was asked to form one of 
 the party on the occasion. As I was 
 to perform the ceremony on my way 
 to Glasgow, it was arranged that she 
 should accompany me so far, and await 
 my return. The little preparations re- 
 quired for the occasion in view, ac- 
 cordingly, claimed some attention for 
 the present ; but although Matilda 
 seemed pleased with the prospect of 
 being my travelling companion, and of 
 the happy meeting of friends to which 
 
CHAPTER I. 25 
 
 we looked forward, she exhibited none 
 of that eagerness or impatience which 
 might have been expected in one of 
 her age. When we recollected her 
 lively expression of warmth of heart on 
 ordinary occasions, her present compo- 
 sure could not but affect us. Alas ! 
 had the veil been lifted off futurity but 
 for a short moment, what a season of 
 sorrow should we have beheld at the 
 very threshold, — contrasting so strong- 
 ly with present anticipations ! 
 
 To prepare Matilda for the journey 
 which we contemplated, it was thought 
 proper to accustom her to the open air. 
 She was, therefore, on two or three oc- 
 casions, taken out when the weather 
 permitted, and her general health seem- 
 ed to benefit by the exercise. As the 
 time drew nigh for our departure, we 
 ceased to fear any interruption of our 
 project ; and as we were assured that 
 
26 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 change of scene was all,- under Provi- 
 dence, that was required for her per- 
 fect recovery, our hopes were high that 
 her usual health would soon be restor- 
 ed. But, a few days before the time 
 fixed for setting out, she caught a fresh 
 cold, by what means we could nevei 
 ascertain, and a return of the fever en 
 sued. At first, we hoped that the at 
 tack, which appeared by no means for 
 raidable, would speedily pass ; but th« 
 fever lingered beyond all our calcula 
 tions, and it soon became evident that 
 poor Matilda could not, with safety, be 
 exposed to the fatigue and risks of the 
 purposed journey, and that, for a little 
 longer, she must be confined to her 
 room. 
 
 In ordinary circumstances, such a 
 disapointment was calculated to be 
 severely felt by a child of twelve. The 
 mild composure which she exhibited 
 
 9 
 
CHAPTER I. 27 
 
 under it, accordingly, deeply interested 
 and delighted our hearts, while it ex- 
 cited all our sympathy. No mnrraur 
 was heard, no regret expressed ; and 
 though at that time she had not reveal- 
 ed to us the state of her mind, nor had 
 we discovered the holy principle by 
 which she was animated, we now 
 know that her patience was the fruit of 
 that saving grace which renews the 
 the will, and brings it into conformity 
 to the perfect will of God. 
 
 This relapse distressed us much in 
 the circumstances in which it occurred ; 
 but we felt no alarm for her safety. 
 The solemn duty on which I was call- 
 ed from home could alone reconcile us 
 to the temporary absence which it de- 
 manded ; and the few days of separa- 
 tion from my family wmch were re- 
 quired, appeared a trial which no for- 
 mer separation ever had. But as I had 
 
28 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 the private opinion of the medical at- 
 tendant, giving assurance that nothing 
 serious appeared in Matilda's case, and 
 that every symptom indicated a speedy 
 recovery, a sense of duty overcame my 
 feelings of affection ; and, urged both 
 by our dear child and her mother, I 
 left home, in the expectation that, at 
 furthest, in a fortnight, I should rejoin 
 them all in happier circumstances. 
 Alas ! how little do we know what so 
 short a period may bring forth; and 
 how slow of heart are we to believe 
 that we cannot boast of to morrow ! 
 
 " Oh ! what is life ! 'Tia like the bow 
 That glistens in the sky: 
 
 We love to see its colours glow- 
 But while we look thf-y die. 
 
 Life fails as soon : to day 'tis here 
 
 To-morrow it may disappear." 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 " O grave ! where is thy tiiuinph now 1 
 And where, O df-ath! thy sting V 
 
 It was a day or two after I had left 
 home, that Matilda disclosed, for the 
 first time, the whole state of her feel- 
 ings. Occasional expressions had fall- 
 en from her to myself before, which, 
 with her intelligence, and the general 
 tenor of her conduct, had produced in 
 my mind the happiest anticipations ; 
 but the unreserved avowal of her expe- 
 rience had not been made till now. 
 
 Her mother had concluded their usu- 
 al exercise of reading the Scriptures, 
 and had sat down beside her. Matil- 
 da began by saying, that she had for 
 
30 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 some time back been anxious to open 
 her mind to her, but that she could 
 never find resolution to do it. This 
 she deeply regretted ; and particularly, 
 that she had not spoken to me before 
 I left home. She stated, that she had 
 now made up her mind not to defer it, 
 as she considered it sinful to have con- 
 cealed the state of her feelings from 
 her parents so long. She then lament- 
 ed, in bitter lermr^, her being a sinner, 
 and that she could not keep from sin- 
 ning. . 
 
 " When I think," she exclaimed, 
 " that God cannot look upon sin but 
 with horror, is it not dreadful that I 
 cannot keep from sinning ; and when 
 I think of God's love towards me, in 
 not sparing his own Son, it grieves 
 me sorely, and wounds my feelings 
 that I can so sin. — Doesn't it hurt your 
 feelings, mamma?" 
 
CHAPTER U. 31 
 
 " It ought certainly to do so," was 
 her mother's reply, " but I am afraid it 
 does not enough." 
 
 SJie then said, " We are poor, weak, 
 sinful creatures, but Christ will do all 
 for us." 
 
 Her mother remarked, that it was 
 through Christ alone the pardon of sin 
 could be obtained ; to which she replied, 
 " O yes : and I am constantly pray- 
 ing that my sins may be washed away 
 in the fountain of His blood. I have 
 often had convictions before, but they 
 were not permanent, — now, I cannot 
 avoid having before my eyes, day and 
 night, what a sinner I am. I am so 
 ignorant I require a great deal of teach- 
 ing ; and I hope you will every day be 
 speaking to me on these subjects. I 
 will be praying that the Spirit may 
 bless your instructions. I hope you 
 will be praying for me, too ; and I am 
 
32 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 sure my dear papa prays for me where 
 he is." . 
 
 The conversation was here interrupt- 
 ed by some one coming into the room. 
 Though reserve, as to the secret of hei 
 heart, was abandoned in regard to her 
 mother, it still appeared too sacred to 
 be revealed to others ; and in such a 
 matter she shrunk sensitively from 
 display. 
 
 Her humiliation, under a sense of 
 sin, truly bespoke the presence of that 
 influence for which she in secret pray- 
 ed, — the power which alone can pro- 
 duce " godly sorrow, which worketh re- 
 pentance unto salvation." In her view, 
 God's "law was exceeding broad ;" its 
 spirituality and extent such as to cause 
 her to record, against herself, a sentence 
 of condemnation as the chief of sin 
 ners. Yet her sense of mercy in 
 Christ at least equalled her humiliation 
 
CHAPTIiR II. S3 
 
 She beheld him as God's unspeakable 
 gift to sinners, loving her, — able and 
 wiliinj^ to save. Thus she enjoyed the 
 privilege of the adoption of the children 
 of God. 
 
 On the succeeding day, her mother 
 did she engaged in reading, as usual, 
 rhen she again spoke with great feel- 
 cg of the evil of sin ; and deplored her 
 jondition in the s-ight of God. 
 
 " How harrowing to my feelings,' 
 she exclaimed, — the large tears rolling 
 over her face, " that I cannot keep from 
 sinning! When the Lord is pleased to 
 restore me to health, I trust I shall live 
 differently from what I have done 
 hitherto. And when papa comes 
 home I am resolved to conceal none of 
 my feelings from him. I know my 
 great ignorance, and how much I re- 
 quire to be taught. He and you will 
 be teaching me, — and we shall be so 
 3 
 
34 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 happy together, speaking of spiritual 
 things ; for although I know a good 
 deal of the Scriptures, I do not under- 
 stand them as I ought." 
 
 Thus did she breathe the aspirations 
 of her soul after increased knowledge 
 of God, holiness, and spiritual enjoy- 
 ments. Her mother spoke to her of the 
 freeness of the Gospel, and of its glory, 
 — Christ being willing to receive the 
 chief of sinners, when she listened 
 with most marked delight; and seem- 
 ed to derive comfort, in the highest 
 sense, from looking to Jesus as a cruci- 
 fied and exalted Saviour. 
 
 " Have you any doubt, my dear," 
 her mother asked, " of Christ's willing- 
 ness to receive you ?" 
 
 " O no, mamma 1" was the immedi- 
 ate reply ; " think of his own beautiful 
 words, ' Come unto me, all ye that la- 
 bour and are heavy laden, and I will 
 
CHAPTER II. 35 
 
 give you rest ;' and again, ' Ho, every 
 one that thirsteth, come 'ye to the wa- 
 ters, am] he that hath no money, come 
 buy wine and milk, without money and 
 without price.' " 
 
 These passages were quoted by her 
 with such emphasis, and her whole 
 manner and expression so struck her 
 mother, that, for the first time, an idea 
 took possession of her mind that prob- 
 ably the Lord was preparing her for an 
 early removal from the world, and thai, 
 in her youth she might be called away. 
 This solemn reflection produced a 
 pause in the conversation. After a 
 little, her mother said to her^ with cau- 
 tion, that she might not be startled, 
 "Matilda, do you think yourself dy- 
 ing V 
 
 " No," was the reply ; and, with a 
 somewhat alarmed look, she asked, 
 "Do you think me dying, mamma?" 
 
3b SORROWING, YET RbjOlCING. 
 
 Slie immediately continued, without 
 ^Yaiting for the answer, — " but nobody- 
 can say how any sickness may end." 
 
 One of the symptoms of her com- 
 plaint was extreme deafness, which 
 proved a distressing hindrance to free 
 conversation. It often, however, af- 
 forded opportunities of discovering her 
 secret experience ; for, during the night 
 especially, and at other times also, 
 when, from this cause, unconscious of 
 the presence of any human witness, 
 her prayers were uttered aloud, and 
 expressed the most humble dependence 
 on sovereign mercy, with earnest 
 longings for the graces of the Spirit, 
 and meetness for heaven. The cor- 
 rectness of expression, as well as depth 
 of feeling, struck every one, as indicat- 
 ing an understanding wonderfully ma- 
 tured, through grace, as well as a heart 
 sav^ingly changed. Supplications, ut- 
 
CHAPTER 11. 37 
 
 tered in terms like the following, were 
 often listened to by those who watched 
 by her: — 
 
 " O Lord, I am unworthy, but I be- 
 lieve that for the sake of Christ thou 
 wilt hear and answer me. O wash me 
 in the fountain of his blood. Give me 
 a new heart, to love and serve tliee. 
 I would give myself up to thee, spirit, 
 soul, and body ; and I beseech thee, 
 O Lord, to let me rest satisfied with 
 nothing short of thyself. Sanctify un- 
 to me this sickness, and give me pa- 
 tience to bear it. Bless my parents, 
 my brothers and sisters, with all that 
 are dear to me in the whole world. O 
 give me thy blessing, and accept me, 
 for Jesus' sake. Amen." 
 
 On the occasion of the conversation 
 related above, she complained of her 
 deafness ; and stated her distress, that 
 she could no* hear distinctly what waa 
 
38 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 spoken to her. Her mother reminded 
 her that God could make up for that 
 disadvantage a hundred-fold ; and that 
 the teaching of his Spirit was infinitely- 
 better than that of all men. She seem- 
 ed quite comforted, and said, " I will 
 pray, then, to be kept from impatience 
 under my trial." 
 
 On the Sabbath, when her mother 
 came to read to her, and had finished 
 the usual exeicise from the Scriptures, 
 she asked whether she should then go 
 on to read some of the small books 
 which they were so fond of hearing. 
 Her answer was, " O no ; those books 
 are very good, but the Bible is the only 
 book for me now." 
 
 On being asked what part of the 
 Scriptures she preferred, the answer 
 was, " What I may understand." 
 
 The eleventh chapter of the Gospel 
 by John was selected ; and she listened 
 
CHAPTER II. 39 
 
 with close attention and deep interest. 
 When her mother came to the words, 
 " He that beUeveth in me, though he 
 were dead, yet shall he live," — " Stop," 
 she cried, "there is the truth, ' he that 
 believeth, though he were dead, yet 
 shall he live ;' " uttering the words 
 " believeth" and " dead," with all the 
 emphasis she could employ. 
 
 Her mother called her attention to 
 Martha's blessed state, when Jesus 
 asked her if she believed this, and she 
 was able to reply, "Yea, Lord, I be- 
 lieve that thou art the Christ." " O 
 yes," she answered ; and seemed lost 
 for a little in deep thought, responding 
 to her mother's observation, " No one 
 could say that unless taught of God." 
 
 She then spoke of the Psalms, and 
 remarked, that they were her favourite 
 portion of the Scriptures ; as in reading 
 them she always felt, that whatever 
 
40 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 her circumstances, there she found 
 something to suit her. After some ob- 
 servations of this .kind, she requested 
 the ciii., the 11., the Ixxxiv., and the 
 Ixii., to be read to her. 
 
 On this day her mother first became 
 alarmed, and thought her in danger. 
 The medical attendant was still of his 
 original opinion, and expected that she 
 was now at the crisis of what did not 
 at any time appear a formidable relapse 
 of fever from cold. He had, on this 
 morning, administered some strong me- 
 dicines ; and as the exertion of hear- 
 ing, when she Avas addressed, exhaust- 
 ed her much, it was necessary to leave 
 her undisturbed as much as possible. 
 
 On Monday, she spoke often of 
 the vanity of the world, and seemed 
 deeply impressed with the folly of seek- 
 ing or expecting any thing satisfactory 
 m it. The Lord was loosening all her 
 
CHAPTER II, 41 
 
 affections from things seen and tempo- 
 ral, and preparing her to leave them 
 without a sigh. He was teaching her 
 to judge them by the rule of those, 
 who, in everjr age, have confessed, be- 
 cause they were made to feel them- 
 selves pilgrims and strangers ; and 
 who, crucified to the world, have de- 
 sired " a better country, that is an 
 heavenly." 
 
 She spoke much also, on this day, of 
 her own sinfulness, and of the mercy 
 of God in Christ. After enlarging for 
 some time on this topic, she exclaimed, 
 " Well might David say, ' Thou, O 
 Lord, art a God full of compassion, and 
 gracious ; long-suffering, and plenteous 
 in mercy and truth." Psa. Ixxxvi. 
 
 From the commencement of hooping- 
 cough, there had been, in Matilda's 
 case, the peculiarity of great difficulty 
 in recovering breath after the fit. As 
 
42 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 the cough became milder in its charac- 
 ter, and when it began to disappear, she 
 was occasionally much distressed with 
 what we took to be asthmatic spasms. 
 Previous to the relapse, they had, in a 
 measure, ceased ; but in the beginning 
 of this week they returned again, and 
 became more frequent, as well as more 
 painful. 
 
 On Tuesday, she expressed a desire 
 to be removed from the bed on which 
 she was lying, to a small couch, which 
 could be moved at pleasure, and from 
 which she could look out upon the fields, 
 where the operations of spring were 
 going busily forward. While there, 
 she seemed full of gratitude for her 
 comforts and mercies, and spoke much 
 and often of the love of God in bestow- 
 ing them so abundantly on her, " such 
 a sinner, and so unworthy." On one 
 of these occasions, she cried, " Is it not 
 
CHAPTER II. 43 
 
 dreadful, mamma, that I have lived 
 in this world for twelve years in sia ? 
 — but I hope the Lord will enable me, 
 if I am spared, and when I get better, 
 to live differently in time to come." 
 
 She then asked her mother's pocket 
 Bible, as her own was that used in the 
 school-room, and too large to put under 
 her pillow, that she might be perusing 
 it when her strength permitted, and 
 when no one was at hand to read to 
 her. She took it, accordingly, and 
 placed it under her pillow with much 
 apparent satisfaction. 
 
 " Mamma," she asked, " what would 
 a new pocket Bible cost 7" " About five 
 or six shillings," she was told. " Then, 
 I have a little money now, and I shall 
 keep all I get till 1 make up the price." 
 She was reminded that she already 
 had a nice pocket Testament, given 
 her lately by a kind uncle; to which 
 
44 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 she replied, " O yes, but there are so 
 many things in the Old Testament, 
 too, which I like to be reading, that I 
 am anxious for the other." 
 
 In the course of this day she was 
 left alone in the room for a little with 
 the other children. She called them 
 about her, when, taking up some small 
 delicacies which had been provided 
 for herself, and were lying near her, 
 she shared them, saying, " take these 
 among you — I have not much to give 
 away J but I can speak to you of God." 
 She then addressed them seriously on 
 spiritual things, until interrupted by 
 some one entering the apartment. How 
 little did she or they think that, ere an- 
 other sun should sink below the distant 
 mountain which bounded their prospect 
 from the place where they were thus 
 engaged, the tongue which addressed 
 them should be silent in death, and the 
 
CHAPTER II. 45 
 
 spirit whos'e longings it suppressed, be 
 returned to the bosom of its Father ! 
 
 Next day was Wednesday, the 11th 
 April. Her mother rose early, about 
 six o'clock, to relieve the servant, who 
 had watched during the night. When 
 she entered the sick-room, Matilda 
 turned towards her with great anima- 
 tion, and the happiest expression of 
 countenance. 
 
 " Come away, my dear mamma," 
 she exclaimed, " I have slept well, and 
 feel quite refreshed — I am a great deal 
 better. We shall have such a happy 
 day — my hearing is greatly improved, 
 and we shall be all the morning alone. 
 I have just been giving myself up, spirit, 
 soul, and body, to Jesus, and I have 
 been repeating my Psalms and chap- 
 ters ; but I am so glad to see you that 
 you may speak to me, and that I may 
 ask what I want to know." 
 
46 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 Her mother's heart rejoiced ; for, 
 from her appearance, she then, and 
 both she and the doctor, for a great 
 part of the day, were encouraged in 
 the opinion that the crisis was past, 
 and that her recovery, though it should 
 be tedious, might now, under Provi- 
 dence, be hopefully looked for. 
 
 When they were set down together, 
 the conversation turned on the union 
 of Christ with his people — its indisso- 
 luble nature under all circumstances. 
 Her soul seemed to repose on the doc- 
 trine with a peace not to be understood 
 but by those who experience it. The 
 following passage, from the 8th chap- 
 ter of the Epistle to the Romans, as 
 bearing on the subject, was then read : 
 " Who shall separate iis from the 
 love ot Christ ? Shall tribulation, or 
 distress, or persecution, or famine, or 
 nakednessi or peril, or sword ? Nay, ia 
 
CHAPTER II. 47 
 
 all these things we are more than con- 
 querors through him tliat loved us. For 
 I am persuaded that neither death, nor 
 life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor 
 powers, nor things present, nor things 
 to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
 other creature, shall be able to separate 
 us from the love of God, which is in 
 Christ Jesus our Lord." The precious 
 truth seemed as "hidden manna" to 
 her, and she expressed herself comfort- 
 ed and refreshed. How nourishing to 
 the hungry soul is God's word, when 
 he has opened the heart to receive it in 
 faith ; the soul that is in Christ, " seal- 
 ed with that holy spirit of promise 
 which is the earnest of its inheritance !" 
 A pause took place in the conversa- 
 tion, and after a little she appeared dull 
 and cast down. When her mother 
 inquired the reason', she said, " I find 
 all my desires to be comlormed to the 
 
48 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 ■will of God in vain — I cannot do or be 
 what I wish, or keep from doing what 
 I hate." 
 
 She was still within the reach of 
 " sin's suggestions and Satan's temp- 
 tations." Her spirit, which aimed at 
 perfect holiness, and desired ty soar 
 above the polluted atmosphere of a 
 world lying in the wicked one, felt and 
 mourned the load which seemed to 
 render its every effort fruitless. Where, 
 in such circumstances, could it look for 
 direction, but to that " light shining in 
 a dark place," which reveals the expe- 
 rience of all who are taught of God. and 
 tells of such trials in their case, even in 
 the near approach to heaven ? Her 
 mother r,ead to her from the close of 
 the 7lh chapter of the Romans: "For 
 I know that in me (that is in my flesh) 
 dwelleth no good thing: for to will is 
 present with me ; but how to perform 
 
CHAPTEU II. 49 
 
 that which is good I find not. For the 
 good that I would I do not: but the 
 evil which I would not that I do. 
 Now if I do that I would not, i; is no 
 more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth 
 in me. I find then a law that when I 
 would do good, evil is present with 
 me. For I delight in the law of God 
 after the inward man. But I see an- 
 other law in my members warring 
 against the law of my mind, and bring- 
 ing me into captivity to the law of sin 
 which is in my members. O wretch- 
 ed man thai lam, who shall deliverme 
 from the body of this death ? I thank 
 God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 So then with the mind I myself 
 serve the law of God ; but with the 
 Hesh the law of sin." 
 
 " That," she cried, "is exactly as I 
 feel, mamma;" repealing, once and 
 again, with evident comfort, the apos- 
 4 
 
50 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 tie's declaratiorij — "I thank God 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 She was now required to lie still for 
 a time, as some medicine had been ad- 
 ministe't^d. When the conversation 
 was resumed, it turned on the tempta- 
 tions to which we are exposed from 
 Satan and our own evil hearts. 
 
 On this she remarked, — '• Well, 
 mamma, to tell you the truth, Satan 
 tried me very sorely one day of late." 
 
 Her mother immediately asked in 
 what she had been tempted by him. 
 
 " He tried to make me think that it 
 is too soon for me to give myself up to 
 Christ, — that T am too young, — that 
 there is plenty of time for that hereaf- 
 ter; and he succeeded, for one day, to 
 keep me from prayer ; but he has not 
 come near me since." 
 
 The doctor had enjoined quiet and 
 silence ; her mother reminded her of 
 
©- 
 
 CHAPTER II. 51 
 
 this. " O, very well, mamma," she 
 said ; " but if you know the good it does 
 to both my body and soul, when we 
 get talking alone on these subjects !" 
 Her favourite psalms were read to her, 
 and she lay in silence for about two 
 hours. 
 
 When breakfast was sent up, on 
 being raised in the bed that she mJght 
 take it, a sudden spasm almost deprived 
 her of breath. It produced a startling 
 scream; but she instantly recovered, 
 expressing a hope that her mother was 
 not alarmed, adding, that she had her- 
 self been afraid for amoment, but now 
 felt quite well again. After a little, she 
 expressed a desire to be removed to the 
 couch on which she had lain the pre- 
 ceding day ; and when she had partak- 
 en of something to strengthen her for 
 the exertion, her request was complied 
 with. 
 
52 soimovriNG, yet rfjoicing. 
 
 When placed comfonably, as she 
 had wished, she exclaimed, — " O what 
 mercies are granted such an unworthy- 
 creature as I am, were there nothing 
 more than the kind parents God has 
 bestowed on me !" Thus she lay for 
 considerably above an hour, until her 
 mother, conceiving that she would be 
 more at ease in the bed, proposed re- 
 placing her there. She immediately 
 assented, saying, — "I prefer this ; but 
 if you wish to remove me, I am quite 
 willing." She was accordingly placed 
 in bed. 
 
 No sooner was this accomplished, 
 than the spasms and brealhlessness 
 recurred to a degree much greater than 
 they had previou-ly been experienced. 
 The alarm for her state, which had sub- 
 sided in her mother's mind, was, on 
 witnessing this, painfully renewed. 
 The medical attendant, too, who had 
 
CHAPTER II. 53 
 
 resolved on leaving her. in course oi 
 the forenoon, thought it advisable to 
 alter this resol^ion. The state of the 
 weather, in the early part of the day, 
 had prevented his departure, and thus 
 was he, in Providence, detained for the 
 occasion when his kind services were 
 most required. 
 
 Abou't two o'clock, she, for the first 
 time, suddenly complained of pain in 
 the heart, — various means to remove 
 which were employed in vain. A slight 
 alleviation of the suffering was effect- 
 ed, but nothing more, and thus matters 
 continued for some time. 
 
 Her mother now looked for her 
 death, although she did not yet think it 
 near. A day or two before, she feared 
 that the complaint would fall upon the 
 lungs, and that the dear sufferer, after 
 a lingering illness, would become a 
 victim of consumption. She now 
 
54 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 trembled that her frame might sink 
 more speedily before the power of the 
 exhausting ailment ui#er which she 
 laboured. It was evident that she her- 
 self had, as yet, no apprehension that 
 her life was in danger. 
 
 The dear child had, in course of the 
 forenoon, been counting the days until 
 my return. " One — two— three — till 
 Saturday," she said, "and then papa 
 — my dear papa, who used to feed me, 
 — will be come ! — O how happy I shall 
 be !" But it was not the will of our 
 heavenly Father, that we should ever 
 meet again in this world ; and, O ! how 
 little had this entered into our calcula- 
 tions when we parted, so short a time 
 before ! 
 
 Under impressions of the change 
 which now appeared in Matilda's con- 
 dition, her mother was seized with 
 great anxiety. She conceived it to be 
 
CHAPTER II. 55 
 
 her duty to warn her of her true circum- 
 stances, but from this the medical at- 
 tendant strongly dissuaded her in the 
 meantime. She inquired earnestly 
 whether he tliought she could survive 
 my return ; but it was impossible to 
 give any decided opinion. How trying 
 that hour of agony no language can 
 describe ! 
 
 The tender patient's suffering, in the 
 meantime, became very great ; the sight 
 of which so distressed her mother, that, 
 to conceal her emotion, she was com- 
 pelled to quit the room. Matilda, on 
 observing this, sent the doctor to in- 
 quire for her ; expressing her fear, that, 
 in her delicate state, she should do her- 
 self injury by giving way to sorrow. 
 It so evidently increased the dear child's 
 suffering, to witness her mother's dis- 
 tress, that, by a strong effort, she sup- 
 pressed the outward appearance of it, 
 
56 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 and returned to the room. When she 
 came in, Matilda's face was turned 
 away from the front of the bed, so that, 
 ere she perceived her, she had come up 
 close to where she lay, and said that 
 she had now come back. 
 
 " O mamma, I am so glad of that," 
 was the reply. " I am surprised to see 
 you so much distressed — if it were 
 grandmamma ; but I am now much bet- 
 ter, although I have still a little of this 
 breathlessness ; but," she added, "don't 
 you be anxious, sit where you are, for I 
 like to feel your very body touching 
 me." 
 
 " O, my darling Matilda, give yourself 
 up to Christ." 
 
 "Yes," she said, "my dear mamma. 
 I am so oppressed just now — but when 
 I get relief." 
 
 In a Utile she became easier. A few 
 drops of laudanum Avere administered ; 
 
CHAPTER II. 57 
 
 but it had scarcely any effect in allevi- 
 ating the acute pain Avith which she 
 was hopelessly struggling. 
 
 All now retired to take dinner, ex- 
 cepting her mother, who was left alone 
 with her. She requested to be turned 
 with her face to the front of the bed. 
 To aid in effecting this, her mother 
 directed her to put her arms around her 
 neck, by which means she might raise 
 herself easily ; but this she declined, as 
 causing unnecessary trouble, and said 
 that she could turn without any help ; 
 which she accordingly did. 
 
 So soon as a view of her face was 
 obtained, her mother saw that death 
 WHS very near ; the melancholy fact 
 was too truly inscribed on every feature. 
 Just as the doctor, who had been im- 
 mediately recalled, entered the room, 
 she was seized with a dreadful spasm, 
 accompanied with most acute pain at 
 
58 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 heart. With an imploring look she asked 
 for something to relieve her, and offered 
 to take any medicine, hcvevcr bitter. 
 The only reply was the melancholy 
 comraunicatioQ, made with tears, that 
 nothing could relieve her. 
 
 Her mother then declared, aside, to 
 the medical attendant, that she could 
 no longer defer telling her child that 
 her dissolution was near. He had 
 formerly dissuaded from this course, 
 with the humane intention of sparing 
 his patient's feelings ; but the time now 
 was evidently short, and he gave his 
 ready assent. 
 
 " My darling Matilda," her mother 
 then said aloud to her, " Jesus is coming 
 to take you to himself — the hand of 
 death is on you !" 
 
 For a moment she seemed startled 
 and alarmed, but speedily recovered her 
 composure. 
 
©- 
 
 CHAPTER n. 59 
 
 " Does the doctor think me dying !" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Yes, he does," was the heart-rend- 
 ing reply. 
 
 " How long do you think, doctor, I 
 can live !" 
 
 " I cannot say how long, my dear, 
 — the God who gave you life alone 
 knows." 
 
 On this she turned to her mother, 
 and with a look of earnestness and 
 solemnity, the most striking, which 
 awed, and went to the hearts of all 
 present, she said, — 
 
 " Mamma, I have concealed nothing 
 from you — you know the whole state 
 of my mind and all about me — do you 
 think that I am resting on Christ ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear," was the answer, " I 
 do believe that you are. You know 
 that you have often told me that you 
 felt and were assured there is no other 
 
60 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 salvation but to be Avashtd in His 
 blood." 
 
 " O yes, I have !" she said ; and, lift- 
 ing up her hands with great solemnity, 
 added, " well, then, I am not afraid to 
 die; I love Jesus, and I know that he 
 loves me !" 
 
 Another spasm ensued, and she was 
 in great anguish. The other children 
 had been introduced at her request, 
 that she might see them, but they were 
 withdrawn, as the room became over- 
 heated. Her mother's grief, which she 
 laboured to conceal, compelled her to 
 retire for a few minutes. When she 
 again appeared, the sweet child said, 
 — " Come near me, my dear mamma, 
 till I tell you how much I love Jesus. 
 Yes," she said in an under tone, when 
 her mother sal down beside her, "7/e.«, 
 / love Him .'" 
 
 When she had recovered breath par- 
 
CHAPTER II. 61 
 
 tially, she said, " I should like to see 
 the rest — perhaps I could say some- 
 thing to them." 
 
 The children were accordingly 
 brought in. When they were all ar- 
 ranged near her, she said to them, with 
 a tone and manner full of affection and 
 pathos, " Children, I am going to die ; 
 and I am not afraid to die ; for I 
 know that Jesus loves me, and I love 
 him. O! see that you be good child- 
 ren, and love him too," 
 
 The terrors of death had often been 
 the subject of conversation with them, 
 in days of health, when he was con- 
 templated at a great distance; and the 
 power of Christ to take away his sting, 
 so that believers should be kept in safe- 
 ty in the last struggle, they had also 
 often heard of; and in the testimony 
 which she now bore to the faithfulness 
 of the Saviour, and her freedom from 
 
62 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 fear through his grace, she had refer- 
 ence to all that they had once heard up- 
 on the subject, and thus she desired to 
 " set to her seal that God is true." 
 
 The doctor after this expressed a de- 
 sire that the children should be removed. 
 As they were retiring from the room, 
 she called back the youngest of her sis- 
 ters, who had been present, and, as if 
 she feared her first address had not 
 been comprehended, she repeated it, 
 saying,— 
 
 " Maggy, I am going to die — and 
 they will put me in a big black hole — 
 but I am not afraid, for I love Jesus, 
 and see you that you will love him too 
 Remember your Catechism." She 
 had not yet learned to read the Scrip- 
 tures. 
 
 She then said to them all, as they 
 lingered about the door and wept, 
 " Don't cry for me, — farewell." 
 
CHAPTER II. 63 
 
 The servants on this came into the 
 room, when she addressed them much 
 in the same strain, informing them that 
 she was dying ; that she had no fear ; 
 and that her confidence arose from de- 
 pending upon Christ alone. One of 
 them who, she knew, did not under- 
 stand English, she addressed in Gaelic, 
 solemnly warning and entreating her 
 and all of them to go to Christ. 
 
 When they had quitted the room, 
 her mother asked, " What shall I say 
 to your dear papa from you when he 
 comes home ?" 
 
 After a short pause, during which 
 she was much affected, she replied 
 with great tenderness of manner, " You 
 will tell him that I think I am united to 
 Christ ; that I love .Tesus, and know 
 he loves me." 
 
 " Will I give him your love ?" " O 
 yes," was the reply. She then said. 
 
64 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 " Mamma, I am not sorry to leave the 
 world, but I am sorry to leave you 
 all;" on uttering which, her heart 
 seemed bursting. The last, the only 
 tie, which bound her to earth was 
 being broken. The enemy could not 
 destroy her, but this one opportunity 
 more was left to inflict a passing wound 
 ere she entered into endless joy. The 
 wound was given, but it was as quickly 
 cured. Her " Friend" was at hand, 
 and peace could not be distant. 
 
 " You remember, my dear," her 
 mother said, " the chapter I read you 
 lately, about Christ's second coming, 
 and how we shall all meet then ?" 
 
 She was instantly comforted, and 
 her countenance brightened, — " O 
 yes," she answered, "we shall all meet 
 again." 
 
 A dreadful spasm immediately en- 
 sued. " Oh !" she cried, after a short 
 
CHAPTER n. 65 
 
 interval, " I am in great pain — how I 
 desire that He would come and take 
 me to himself!" 
 
 After a few moments' silence she 
 made a sign with her finger, saying, 
 " Doctor I" as if wishing to speak to 
 him. On his approaching she could 
 only add '■'■speech — less;" and with- 
 out a single throe breathed her last; 
 her redeemed soul quitting its frail tab- 
 ernacle, and entering into the joy of 
 its Lord. Her mother laid her hand 
 on her eyes, and they were closed on 
 this world for ever ! 
 
 The foregoing notes of Matilda's 
 conversations are given strictly, as far 
 as possible, in her own words ; but 
 they constitute no more than speci- 
 mens of the topics on which she expa- 
 tiated — of her views of divine truth — 
 and her experience as a follower of the 
 Lamb. They are a mother's imperfect 
 5 
 
66 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 recollections of what passed when 
 death was not thought to be in the 
 cup, associated with anticipations which 
 then prevailed, or were cherished in 
 opposition to secret forebodings, of fu- 
 ture days of sanctified delight in the 
 newly discovered tie, which she felt 
 uniting their hearts, as together " bound 
 up in the bundle of life with the Lord." 
 But however imperfect, they testify in 
 language, sufficiently distinct, to the 
 power of divine grace : " Even so, Fa- 
 ther, for so it seemed good in thy sight." 
 In its simplest view, the saving work 
 of the Spirit consists in convincing of 
 sin, and leading the soul under this ope- 
 ration, to an implicit and exclusive re- 
 liance upon Christ for salvation. There 
 is a clear perception of the evil lament- 
 ed, and also the humiliation which this 
 must ever induce, connected with a 
 most hearty concurrence in God's ap- 
 
CHAPTER II. 67 
 
 pointed way of deliverance — a joyful 
 acceptance of the truth that reveals it 
 — and a stedfast recrarding of the ob- 
 ject of fiiith, Christ, for all the soul re- 
 quires. Be the course of the believer 
 long or shoit, in passing through this 
 wilderness, such is his experience in 
 the beginning and to the end of his 
 pilgrimage, embracing continued dis- 
 coveries of his own unworthiness oa 
 the one hand, and of the mercy of 
 God in Christ on the other, his life 
 beirig a life o^ faith in Hira " who loved •■ 
 him and gave himself for him." And 
 be he young or old, under the influence 
 of this knowledge of himself as a sin- 
 ner, and of God as his Saviour, sin is 
 crucified, and spiritual graces grow and 
 abound ; he lives to Christ and he dies 
 in the Lord. Judging by this rule, we 
 believe our dear child was born of the 
 Spirit, and that she now inherits the 
 
68 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 promises. A sense of sin humbled 
 her in the dust, but a knowledge of 
 Christ produced the lively hope which 
 belongs only to them that are his. She 
 lived, yet not she, but Christ lived in 
 her. 
 
 To what but to the effectual and 
 saving operations of the Eternal Spirit 
 can be ascribed the graces which she 
 exhibited — the peace, patience, love, 
 joy, longings for conformity to the will 
 of God, and for separation from the 
 world in heart and in practice ? The 
 carnal mind, which is enmity against 
 Him, never was adorned with fruit like 
 this. And to what shall we ascribe the 
 victory over death vouchsafed to her ? 
 Never, in any sick-room did his pres- 
 ence cause less dismay, though he 
 came, too, at a time that we thought 
 not of. It was not that his terrors 
 were veiled, for the address to her little 
 
CHAPTER TI. 69 
 
 sister showed that the noisoraeness of 
 the grave was before the eyes of the 
 youthful sufferer — " to corruption," she 
 said, " thou art my father, and to the 
 worm, thou art my mother and my sis- 
 ter." It was not that, by powers of 
 reasoning or philosophic conclusions, 
 she had quelled the tumult of nature, 
 shrinking from the fearful contest — 
 such defensive armour she had none. 
 Neither did the insensibility of delirium 
 conduct her, as in a troubled dream, 
 beyond the precincts of life ; for never 
 was even the victim of a violent end 
 more vividly conscious, until the inflic- 
 tion of the fatal stroke, than she. It 
 was not boldness of character causing 
 her to repel fear, for she was constitu- 
 tionally timid; nor ignorance, to rest 
 as a thick cloud on the world of spir- 
 its, concealing the tribunal at which she 
 was about to appear ; for, versed in the 
 
70 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 letter of the Scriptures, she kaew the 
 " terror of the Lord." Nor, finally, 
 was it consciousness of innocence, or 
 reflections on a well-spent life, opera- 
 ting as a deceitful opiate ; for her con- 
 victions were all of sin. How, then, 
 came death to be despoiled of his ter- 
 rors ? Purely through faith, which is 
 of grace, sovereign and efficacious — 
 faith in Hina who hath taken away the 
 sting of the last enemy for his redeem- 
 ed, and who can give not only protec- 
 tion from his power, but deliverance 
 also from his fear. As a little child she 
 had received the kingdom of God ; and 
 He who carries the lambs in His bo- 
 som, exalted her above the darkness 
 and alarm that have many a time sur- 
 rounded the death-bed of aged Chris- 
 tians, and conveyed her thus, in perfect 
 peace, to those mansions where are the 
 "small and great," and where the song 
 
CHAPTER 11. 71 
 
 of Moses and of the Lamb is for ever 
 sung. 
 
 Had she been spared in the world, 
 she would, doubtless, have been ex- 
 posed to many temptations. She would 
 have heard, and read, and seen what 
 might bewilder, perplex, or mislead. 
 Her musical talent, remarkable in one 
 of her age, might have proved a snare. 
 Under evil influences she might again 
 and again have been turned aside, and 
 painful experiences, even falls with 
 bruises and wounds, might have been 
 connected with restorations to the sim- 
 plicity of faith, and joy in the Lord. 
 Preserved by Him who had called her, 
 the journey Avould have been safe, how- 
 ever beset with trials and sorrows, and 
 all must have been well at last ; but 
 who can say th^t her life would have 
 so testified to the sovereignty as well 
 as the power of divine grace, or that 
 
72 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 her departure would have beea so tri- 
 umphant ! It pleased the Lord to 
 bring her by a near path across the 
 barren desert, and to carry her, as upon 
 eagles' wings, over the swellings of 
 Jordan — " for his is the kingdom, and 
 the power, and the glory." 
 
 During my short absence I had re- 
 ceived regular intimations of Matilda's 
 state of health. The accounts were 
 all favourable, but not such as to dispel 
 anxiety. Earnestly longing to be re- 
 stored to my place by her sick-bed, I 
 left Glasgow, on my way home, late on 
 the Monday evening, after the services 
 of the thanksgiving day. My route was 
 circuitous, as I intended to pass a single 
 day with a dear brother, who had been 
 recently visited by the heaviest of all 
 domestic afflictions. This accomplish- 
 ed, I proceeded on my journey. Within 
 two days' travel of home, viz., on the 
 
CHAPTER 11. 73 
 
 Friday, I received a letter which had 
 ^een written there on Monday. It 
 was not so favourable as former ones ; 
 but had not my mind already begun to 
 be filled with evil forebodings, it could 
 not have excited great alarm. 
 
 Whoever is acquainted with the 
 tumult of a Highland steam-boat, during 
 a dark and boisterous night, will be 
 able to judge how ill suited to my state 
 of mind were the circumstances by 
 which I was surrounded ; but even in 
 such as those, the soul may have com- 
 munion with Him whose presence can 
 give peace, and " keep the heart and 
 mind." I looked eagerly for the morn- 
 ing ; for I expected, soon after its arrival, 
 to be landed at a point little more than 
 forty miles from home, and calculated 
 that, by the good hand of God upon me, 
 I should, ere the day terminated, find 
 myself again in the midst of my family. 
 
74 SOKROWINGj YET REJOICING. 
 
 My anticipations of the tidings which 
 the conveyance, by which I was to tra- 
 vel, might bring me were various ; but 
 once only did a fear pass across my 
 mind that I should not find Matilda 
 alive, and the suggestion was banished 
 as an unwarranted intrusion. Long 
 before we reached the shore, my eye 
 had sought the conveyance which I ex- 
 pected to be in waiting ; and at last I 
 discovered it in charge of a pious school- 
 master from our parish. His presence 
 startled me, but I exf^lained the circum- 
 stance to myself, by recollecting that 
 our servant must have been busily 
 occupied with the spring labour; yet 
 the explanation was not satisfactory. I 
 leapt ashore, and ran up to him. " How 
 is all at home ?" was my anxious 
 inquiry. " Well," was the answer, and 
 I was presented with a letter superscrib- 
 ed by my dear wife. It was sealed 
 
CHAPTER n. 75 
 
 with black, but so were all the others 
 I had received from her since my de- 
 parture, lor we were in mourning for 
 my brother's wife. " How is Matilda ?" 
 There was hesitation, and a look which 
 did not relieve me — still I expected to 
 hear no more than that she was beyond 
 hope of recovery ; but the answer came 
 at last,—" She is dead !" 
 
 Why should I obtrude on the reader 
 the anguish of that moment, and the 
 heavy grief of that tedious day. After 
 more than thirteen years of uninterrup- 
 ted domestic prosperity, death had at 
 length entered our dwelling, and I was 
 now returning to a sorrowing family, to 
 whom I had never before returned but 
 joyful to them rejoicing. But I was 
 in some measure made to hear the voice, 
 — " Be still, and know that I am God," 
 and enabled to respond, — " What! shall 
 we receive good at the hand of God, 
 
76 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 and shall we not receive evill" ll 
 was late when I arrived at the manse ; 
 and I entered my wife's apartment ere 
 she knew I had come. Friends who 
 were present retired, and we were left 
 alone to mingle our tears in all the 
 consciousness of "bitterness for a first- 
 born." The grace vouchsafed my be- 
 loved partner had been wonderful ; and 
 she had partaken plentifully of the 
 mercy and faithfulness of our cove- 
 nanted God. She had been permitted 
 the high privilege of ministering to botli 
 the soul and body of our departed child 
 in her latter end, and of witnessing the 
 triumphant close of that solemn scene. 
 To me this was denied ; and many 
 painful thoughts filled my mind, in 
 connection with this appointment ol 
 the Sovereign Disposer of all events. 
 But if separated from the death-bed of 
 one I loved so tenderly, it was in the 
 
CHAPTER II. 77 
 
 path of duty ; and though the trial was 
 felt, I was, in a measure, enabled to say 
 — " It is well." We were not yet out 
 of the furnace : many such duties as I 
 lamented not being permitted to perform 
 for dear Matilda, awaited me ; and had 
 the occasions been then foreseen which 
 were about to call for those, how altered 
 in character, or how subdued, must have 
 been our present grief! It is well to 
 remember, that " inconsolable sorrow 
 in such cases" as ours, " however ad- 
 mired by the world, is rebellion against 
 the appointment of God, and the off- 
 spring of unbelief; that grief should no 
 more be indulged and cherished^ than 
 our anger and other passions."* But 
 how gracious is the Lord ! The rod 
 was in his hand ; yet he afflicted not 
 willingly. The array of coming chas- 
 tisements was concealed from us, and 
 * Scott. 
 
78 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 each stripe, as it fell, was preceded by 
 no terrors. Verily, we may sing ot 
 "mercy" with ''judgment." 
 
 Matilda's mortal remains were laid in 
 the "narrow house appointed for all 
 living" on Tuesday, the 17th April, in 
 the blessed hope of a glorious resur- 
 rection. Death had made little change 
 in her appearance. For her years she 
 was naturally tall, and during her ill- 
 ness she had grown much. As I hung 
 over her, on the evening of ray arrival 
 at home, and the light which I held in 
 my hand fell upon her features, she 
 seemed as in a peaceful sleep. Her 
 lips, though shrivelled, retained the 
 redness of life, and were not so com- 
 pressed as to conceal her teeth, which 
 appeared between. Her dark eye-lash- 
 es and pencilled eye-brows, contrasted 
 strongly with the marble whiteness of 
 her forehead ; and I felt, amidst the 
 
CHAPTER II. 79 
 
 Stillness of the chamber, as if she were 
 about to awaken from her slumber, and 
 to turn on me the full black eye, beam- 
 ing with intelligence, which I had so 
 often looked on. Alas ! the iUusion 
 soon vanished. " Dust thou art, and 
 unto dust shall thou return," was in- 
 scribed throughout on the motionless 
 frame which lay before me ; and when 
 I reflected on her early youth and ad- 
 vanced attainments, — the health, — th? 
 sprightly vivacity, — the happy disposi- 
 tion for which she had been distin- 
 guished, I could only exclaim — "What, 
 hath sin wrought !" " Thanks be unto 
 God who giveth us the victory through 
 lesus Christ our Lord !" 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 " And Thou my fiiiiitiiig soul with strength 
 Didst strengthen inwardly." 
 
 The state of the other children excit- 
 ed no apprehension in our minds. The 
 older ones appeared almost recovered 
 from the effects of the epidemic ; and as 
 we looked for the speedy approach of 
 warm weather, which would enable us 
 to remove them for the benefit of change 
 of air, no alarm possessed us on their 
 account. They were confined to the 
 house, indeed, the severity of the sea- 
 son being remarkable ; but this was their 
 only restriction. Our youngest, Jessie, 
 just two years old, was evidently the 
 most weakly j but she was not con- 
 
CHAPTER HI. 81 
 
 fined to bed. Her case appeared in 
 some points to resemble Matilda's ; yet, 
 as she had none of the spasmodic affec- 
 tion which we associated with the fa- 
 tal termination of her sister's ailment, 
 and little of her weakness, — moreover, 
 as she every day was carried about in 
 the nurse's arms,- and often displayed 
 the cheerfulness of health, no one con- 
 ceived her to be in danger. The med- 
 ical attendant, too, had ceased his vis- 
 its, being equally at ease with ourselves. 
 That her convalescence was less ad- 
 vanced than the others, we ascribed to 
 her aversion to medicine, and her re- 
 sistance, only occasionally overcome, 
 to the necessary remedies for the re- 
 moval of the fever which still hung 
 about her. 
 
 On Friday of the week on which we 
 had committed Matilda to kindred dust, 
 Jessie appeared greatly improved. 
 
82 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 We were encouraged in our cheerful 
 anticipations, and our minds were at 
 rest, so far as they coukl be, under our 
 recent wound. We still had si's sweet 
 chUdren ; and though we mourned her 
 departure who had been so bright a pat- 
 tern to them that remained, we knew 
 that God had taken her : — she had gone 
 to Christ, which was " far better" than 
 to be with us. 
 
 On Saturday morning it was thought 
 that an unfavourable change was per- 
 ceptible in our little darling, not so 
 marked, however, as much to increase 
 our anxiety for her. It Avas natural 
 that we should now be easily alarmed, 
 and our fears, in so far as they existed, 
 were ascribed to this. Such means, 
 however, as were thought advisable un- 
 der circumstances were employed, and 
 we hoped that towards evening their 
 good effects would be evident. 
 
CHAPTER III. 83 
 
 During the forenooa I was busily- 
 employed ia my study. Soon after 
 mid-day, my wife came to me and said, 
 that Jessie did not seem to improve. 
 She was anxious, but did not fear dan- 
 ger, and I encouraged her as I best 
 could. About two o'clock, I was call- 
 ed to the nursery to see our sweet pa- 
 tient, for she seemed to get worse. 
 Then, indeed, I perceived an alteration 
 which justified, as I feared, more than 
 the anxiety I had endeavoured to allay. 
 She was in the nurse's arms as usual, 
 but appeared much oppressed, and evi- 
 dently was in great pain. I did not 
 think that any of those about her had 
 perceived her danger ; but the suffering 
 they had seen Matilda endure, and I 
 had not, diminished their alarm under 
 the attack. We soon began to dread 
 that the powers of life were sinking : 
 a warm bath was instantly prepared. 
 
84 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 Her illness increased rapidly — a little 
 wine and water was administered ; but 
 we soon too clearly saw that the hand 
 of death was on our tender iniant. 
 We were not prepared for this shock ; 
 but " the Hope of Israel, — the Saviour 
 thereof in the day of trouble," did not 
 forsake us. To Him she had been de- 
 voted by us ever since He gave her 
 being; and we now kneeled down, and 
 together called on His holy name in 
 her behalf. Soul and body were com- 
 mended to Him in the everlasting cov- 
 enant, and Christ with all his benefits 
 accepted by us, as her parents, for her. 
 The moment was one of deep emotion 
 and awful solemnity. We felt the 
 presence, and in this providence heard 
 the voice, of Him who " openeth and 
 no man shutteth," and in whose hands 
 alone are " the keys of hell and of 
 death." How striking his sovereignty, 
 
CHAPTER III. 85 
 
 and vaio as well as sinful, were oppo- 
 sition to his will; " for He giveth not 
 account of any of his matters." We 
 arose from our knees, and in a few mo- 
 ments, after a brief struggle with the 
 last enemy, the spirit of this gentle 
 child had returned to God who gave it. 
 This new blow, so unexpectedly and 
 at so short an interval succeeding our 
 other bereavement, was felt as a sore 
 affliction : " The clouds had returned 
 after the rain." We had watched for 
 the morning, and believed its dawu had 
 broke ; but the shades of night had 
 come again, and they seemed to brood 
 on us more deeply than ever. Yet, 
 amidst the darkness, the word of God 
 shone like the pillar of fire in sight of 
 the camp of Israel, How precious the 
 experience of His people in every age, 
 recorded there, and presented to the eye 
 of faith ! How suited to us the history 
 
86 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 of patient Job, — the repeated infliction 
 of evil in such rapid succession, — the 
 answer made to every unbelieving sug- 
 gestion, whether from within or from 
 without, — the manifestation of human 
 weakness on the one hand, with that 
 of divine grace, forbearance, and power, 
 on the other; and the "end of the 
 Lord" in all the providence ! Hard 
 thoughts were suppressed and silenced ; 
 and amidst our sorrow we were soothed 
 and invigorated by the consideration, 
 that the same mercy which upheld him 
 now sustained us, and that in our great 
 weakness the strength of the Lord 
 should be more signally perfected. 
 
 The cheering circumstances of Ma- 
 tilda's end were wanting in that of our 
 youngest child ; but believing her to 
 be in the covenant, as the offspring of 
 parents who professed to have accepted 
 Christ for themselves and their child- 
 
CHAPTER III. 87 
 
 ren, we looked upon her as taken away 
 from the evil to come, and as called 
 thus speedily to join her glorified sister 
 in the realms of bliss ! Did we wish 
 them back again? Ah, no! Ave could 
 not; but we entered into David's expe- 
 rience, when " he arose from the earth, 
 and washed and anointed himself, and 
 changed his apparel, and came into 
 the house of the Lord, and worship- 
 ped," saying of his departed child, " I 
 shall go to him, but he shall not return 
 to me." 
 
 Our recollections of the gentle infant 
 thus removed from us, were all sooth- 
 ing and pleasant. She had just begun, 
 with her artless prattle, to delight her 
 mother's heart, and she was the object 
 of the constant caresses of her brothers 
 and sisters. It was grateful to our 
 feelings to recall her stillness and so- 
 lemnity of manner at worship, and the 
 
88 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 regularity wiih which she, evening and 
 morning, kneeled down to lisp her in- 
 fant prayers. Her natural timidity and 
 tenderness of feeling seemed to us now 
 to have foretold, that she was not for 
 the storms of the world, and we could 
 not mourn when we thought that she 
 would never encounter them. Matil- 
 da's death seemed to open up a train of 
 thought, if we may so speak of one of 
 such tender age, to which she had be- 
 fore been a stranger. If she had heard 
 of death, certainly no idea had been 
 associated with the terra ; no suspicion 
 existed in her mind of the evil which 
 it expressed. She and her younger 
 brother seemed amazed at the sorrow 
 that pervaded the family, but they 
 could not partake of it. It seemed to 
 surprise her especially, that Matilda 
 was not now attended as she used to 
 be ; and she constantly urged the nurse 
 
CHAPTER HI. 89 
 
 to carry her to the room where she lay, 
 and there never tired to look in the 
 face of the dead. We were much af- 
 fected with this in all the children. 
 They seldom remained long away from 
 the chamber of death ; they would 
 themselves remove the cloth from their 
 sister's face, and gaze in solemn atti- 
 tude, recalUng ihe words she had spo- 
 ken to them, and all their happy inter- 
 course together. '' Poor Tildy !" Jes- 
 sie used to say, "poor Tildy — not well 
 — Tildy sleep — soon well — Poor Til- 
 dy !" Her only impression seemed to 
 be, that death was a long sleep, and 
 she every day expected, as we thought, 
 that Matilda was to awake, and be to 
 her what she had wont to be. And is 
 not death a blessed sleep to the child 
 of God, and will not such as " sleep in 
 Jesus" have a glorious awakening? 
 " Sin reigned" in this sweet infant 
 
90 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 "unto death ;" but were we not war- 
 ranted to believe that " grace also 
 reigned" in her " through rishteousness, 
 unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our 
 Lord 1" Or, did we err in following 
 her too, with the eye of faith, into His 
 presence, who had seemed to say to 
 us, " Suffer these little children to come 
 unto me, and forbid them not ?" 
 
 On Saturday, the 21st April, Jessie 
 died. Next day I preached from Rev. 
 vii. 13 — 15, " What are these which 
 are arrayed in white robes ? and 
 whence came they 1 And I said unto 
 him. Sir, thou knowest. And he said 
 unto me. These are they which came 
 out of great tribulation, and have wash- 
 ed their robes, and made them white 
 in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore 
 are they before the throne of God, and 
 serve him day and night in his tem- 
 ple." On the preceding Sabbath I had 
 
CHAPTER III. 91 
 
 not preached,— a valued friend supplied 
 my place, and I now endeavoured to 
 improve the affliclive dispensations in 
 our family to a sympathising and deep- 
 ly affected congregalioo. 
 
 On the 25lh, she was interred, being 
 laid on Matilda's left hand, the coffins 
 touching each other, both being man- 
 tled by the same turf! 
 
 But our trial was not yet past. The 
 Lord still sat as a refiner, and the fur- 
 nace had not hitherto been heated as it 
 was His sovereign and gracious will it 
 should be. We had already lost our 
 youngest as well as our oldest, and 
 again we were about to be called upon 
 to part with a youngest, also in the 
 tender years of infancy. 
 
 Christian parents have consolations of 
 a peculiar kind, in the death of their 
 infant offspring. They are in the cov- 
 enant with themselves, and have, in 
 
92 SORROWING, VET REJOICING. 
 
 secret, and before men, been solemnly 
 dedicated to their Father in heaven. 
 Christ is thus iheir Head and Saviour. 
 " Of such," he declared, " is the king- 
 dom of heaven." Commenting on 
 this passage, Mr. Scott remarks, " The 
 expression may also intimate, that the 
 kingdom of heavenly glory is greatly 
 constituted of such as die in their in- 
 fancy. Infants are as capable of regen- 
 eration as grown persons; and there is 
 ground to conclude, that all those who 
 have not lived to commit actual trans- 
 gressions, though they have shared in 
 the effects of the first Adam's offence, 
 will also share in the blessings of the 
 second Adam's gracious covenant, — 
 without their personal faith and obedi- 
 ence, but not without the regenerating 
 influence of the Spirit of Christ, 
 Whilst we teach our children, as they 
 become capable of learning, how ready 
 
CHAPTER III, 93 
 
 the condescending Son of God is to an- 
 swer their lisping petitions, and to ac- 
 cept of them as his disciples ; we may 
 be well satisfied that he has taken to 
 his heavenly kingdom such of them as 
 have died in infancy ; for, doubtless, 
 the covenant is made with the believer 
 for the good of this part of his off- 
 spring in an especial manner. If, 
 then, Christian parents have their be- 
 loved branches cropt in the bud, they 
 cannot, surely, have cause to complain ; 
 or to think much of their pain, care, or 
 trouble, when they are made the instru- 
 ments of God in raising up children to 
 him, who may inherit his everlasting 
 kingdom." 
 
 The ordinance of baptism, of which 
 such children have been partakerg, 
 speaks comfort. Previous to its ad- 
 ministration, indeed, they are included, 
 by virtue o( their parents' faith, in the 
 
94 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 visible Church of Christ, as being ia 
 covenant with him ; but baptism, 
 which publicly declares that they are so, 
 and which is then the sign of" promis- 
 ed blessings, is, in the hour of death, 
 contemplated as the seal, or assurance 
 on God's part, that he will accomplish, 
 in their experience, all he has promised. 
 Their safety is not left as a doubtful 
 thing. The great covenant is, in this 
 solemn ordinance, unfolded; it is open- 
 ed up more fully than many kings and 
 wise men saw it, for the reception of a 
 Christian's child. That child, though 
 an infant of days, is baptized with the 
 same solemn formula as an apostle ; 
 and the Triune God of salvation re- 
 veals himself in his glory to build the 
 •vyalls of Zion, — to inset the little stones 
 as well as the great ; a solemn attestation 
 to the value of the child, and an assur- 
 ance that its safety is fully provided for. 
 
CHAPTER III. 95 
 
 May not Christian parents come 
 short in privilege, by failing to plead 
 with sufficient earnestness the benefits 
 of this ordinance in behalf of their 
 children, whilst they are spared to 
 them; and may they not come short in 
 duty, by failing to appeal to it when 
 they address them on spiritual and 
 eternal things 1 What an appeal had 
 those parents who brought their tender 
 little ones to Christ, to that event, in 
 after years, in dealing with them ! 
 How forcibly might they relate to them 
 the solemn circumstances of that affect- 
 ing occasion; their rejection by the 
 disciples, and Christ's displeasure on 
 this account ; his condescension and 
 tender kindness ; his taking them up 
 in his arms, putting his hands upon 
 them, and blessing them! How mi^ht 
 they speak of the assurance thus afford- 
 ed that He would redeem the pledge ot 
 
96 SORROWING, YET KEJOICING. 
 
 favour given thf-ra. — of the encourage- 
 ment to pray to him, to rely on his 
 grace, to trust his providence, lo wait 
 his coming ! If He regarded them with 
 such tenderness on earth, must not His 
 intercessions on their behalf be sure in 
 heaven, — in health, under the pressure 
 of affliction, and amidst the agonies of 
 death ! And how irresistible the claim 
 on tho>e favoured children, to fear the 
 name, to love the law, and seek the 
 glory of that gracious and divine Sa- 
 viour, — that holy, that good man, who 
 had bestowed so precious a benedic- 
 tion when they knew it not! If they 
 had been distinguished by such a privi- 
 lege, — if they had been in His arms 
 who now was " made higher than the 
 heavens," being the object o'" adoration 
 to the glorious ho>ts which surround 
 the throne, did not this constitute an 
 obligation not to be resisted, constrain- 
 
CHAPTER III. 07 
 
 lag them to be disilinguished by every 
 holy qualification, and every heavenly 
 grace ! But have not Christian parents 
 now, a similar appeal to baptism, in 
 dealing with tlieir oil'ipring, who, in 
 that solemn ordinance, have been sur- 
 rendered to the same gracious Redeem- 
 er, whose Word still testifies to all his 
 people, " The promise is unto you and 
 unto your children." Let this sacra- 
 ment, then, be duly exalted ; not only 
 as a source of comfort when disease 
 wastes, and death snatches their jewels 
 away from them, but as a means of ex- 
 hortation, instruction, and encourage- 
 ment, while they are left under their 
 charge. They were brought to Christ 
 to be blessed, in the way ordained by 
 himself, and they have been blessed. 
 The thrice iioly name of God has been 
 named on them, — the sign of his giace 
 administered by hi^ accredited servant ; 
 7 
 
9S SORROWING, YCT REJOICING. 
 
 why, then, should they be aliens orene 
 mies ; why serve any strange goJ, or 
 why seek joy elsewhere than in the 
 wells of salv^ation ? 
 
 Our youngest boy, Alexander, had 
 just passed his fourth birth-day. For 
 his years, he was a child of uncommon 
 strength and vigour. His appearance 
 was highly prepossessing; and his 
 generous disposition and vivacity made 
 him a universal favourite. Strangers 
 will naturally be jealous of a parent's 
 description ; but such as knew him 
 will not deny that he was a lovely and 
 an engaging child. His robust consti- 
 tution had resisted the effects of hoop- 
 ing-cough, so that he suffered little 
 from it. The subsequent fever lay 
 long upon him ; for his natural liveli- 
 ness made restiaint of any kind so in- 
 tolerable, that he could with great diffi- 
 culty be induced to submit to the ne- 
 
CHAPTER III. 99 
 
 cessarj'^ conKnemcnt. He had, how- 
 ever, but Tor weakness, nearly recov- 
 ered his usual health. 
 
 On the day on which Matilda's cof- 
 fin was brought to the manse, when I 
 went to the door to meet the trades- 
 man, I found Alick standing there. 
 The weather was piercingly cold, with 
 sleet and high wind. He had escaped 
 unobserved from the nursery, and, with 
 childish curiosity, was gazing on an 
 object which to him was new. The 
 consequence dreaded ensued, — he had 
 caught a slight cold, and next day suf- 
 fered a relapse of the fever. He was 
 confined to bed. and we hoped that, un- 
 der the simple remedies employed, this 
 new indisposition would soon disap- 
 pear. 
 
 When poor Jessie expired, he was 
 a deeply interested witness of all that 
 passed on that affecting occasion. Our 
 
100 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 attention was so exclusively and in 
 tensely occupied with her case, that we 
 wholly overlooked the circumstance of 
 poor Alick's presence. When my eye 
 caught him, after all was over, he was 
 resting on his -elbow, having raised 
 himself in bed to observe more dis- 
 tinctly what was going forward. Never 
 shall I forget the expression of his intel- 
 ligent countenance, when his eye caught 
 mine. It was as if he wished me to 
 be comforted, and to comfort him, by 
 giving assurance that no evil had oc- 
 curred, and that no new sorrow had 
 come upon us. Alas I dear boy, little 
 did we think that his own days had 
 drawn to so narrow a span, and that he 
 should so soon follow his darling sister, 
 the. sharer of his joys, and often his 
 comforter in many a little sorrow ! 
 
 On observing our mistake, to have 
 permitted him to witness Jessie's de- 
 
CHAPTER HI. 101 
 
 cease, we had him wrapped in blankets, 
 and carried to a warm and well season- 
 'ed room in another part of the house. 
 For a day or two no apprehension was 
 entertained for him ; but then, as he 
 did not decidedly improve, medical ad- 
 vice was called to our aid. The opin- 
 ion of both the gentlemen who visited 
 him was favourable, — they thought the 
 ailment slight ; and so should we, in 
 ordinary circumstances, have done ; 
 but our past sad experience utterly for- 
 bade our being at ease in witnessing 
 the symptoms manifested. These 
 were such as to produce a fear of wa- 
 ter VI the head ; and we trembled to 
 think of the sufferings, to him and to 
 us, which must ensue. Although the 
 medical gentlemen did not willingly 
 admit their fears of this dreadful com- 
 plaint, we thought we could perceive it 
 was from compassion to us. Their 
 
102 SORROWING, YET BEJOICING. 
 
 prescriptions, when we afterwards re 
 fleeted on their character, showed their 
 apprehensions; but, at the tlxtie, we 
 were too anxious to listen to any opin- 
 ion which contradicted our impressions, 
 and afforded, if not rest, at least tem- 
 porary respite, to our aching hearts. 
 
 At no period of our trial were we 
 more impressed than now with the 
 truth, that the Lord's compassion is 
 that of a father for his children. A new 
 affliction was to come — our good, his 
 glory, required it ; but it came not so 
 as to overwhelm. Step by step we 
 were let down to the depths of this sor- 
 row; and although, in course of the ten 
 days during which we watched and 
 prayed by our dying boy, the furnace 
 appeared as if seven times heated, yet 
 then, more than at any other period of 
 our suffering, did we feel most sensibly 
 His presence and faithfulness who has 
 
CHAPTER in. 103 
 
 said, " When thou walkest through the 
 fire thou shalt not be burnt; neither 
 shall thfi flame kindle upon thee," — 
 the interpositions of Ilis providence, 
 the supplies of his srace, and the con- 
 solations of His Spirit. " Let Israel 
 hope in the Lord, for with the Lord 
 there is mercy." 
 
 The remarks which I have ventured 
 to introduce in the beginning of this 
 Narrative were now, as at other sea- 
 sons ot our affliction, strongly suggest- 
 ed, viz., the possibility that true religion 
 may exist in the soul of a child, whilst 
 his natural vivacity and very childish- 
 ness conceal it from the view of human 
 eye, until disease comes, and the flow 
 of animal spirits subsiding under its in- 
 fluence, gives opportunity to the latent 
 grace to appear. Poor Alick had not 
 yet learned to read ; but, from the very 
 dawn of intellect, he would listen with 
 
104 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 earnest and attentive ear to those parts 
 of Scripture which he could understand 
 when read to him ; and a " pretty story 
 from the Bible" had always charms for 
 which play and every thing else would 
 at any time be abandoned. It was a 
 bribe which secured quiet on all occa- 
 sions, and the attraction which drew 
 him particularly to his elder brother 
 and knit his heart to his. 
 
 More than a year before the period of 
 Alick's illness, a little incifient occurred 
 in the nursery, which,, as it produced 
 a strong sensation there, and deeply 
 affected hira, may be related. It was 
 soon after the recovery from measles, 
 already alluded to. One night a sister, 
 about double his age then, was observ- 
 ed to be pensive and much dejected. 
 She was asked wliat was wrong. Hei 
 answer was. " Can you tell me what a 
 soul is ?" Her oldest brother began to 
 
CHAPTER irr. 105 
 
 explain that it is not the body, although 
 residing in it, — that when the body 
 dies the soul continues to live, — and 
 that the souls of good people go to 
 heaven, but those of the wicked to 
 hell. She became much agitated, and 
 1 cried, " Oh what shall I do, what shall 
 I do ? I told a lie, and my soul must 
 go to hell !" As she was in real dis- 
 tress of mind ajid wept bitterly, the at- 
 tention of all the children was attracted 
 to her, and to the subject under discus- 
 sion. The offence to which she alluded 
 had. occurred more than a year before. 
 She had by accident burned her pina- 
 fore, and on being charged with it, 
 denied the fact. When the truth was 
 discovered she was brought tome, and 
 m 'warning her of the nature of her 
 offence, I quoted some of the passages 
 of Scripture which speak of the doom 
 of "hars." Her brother endeavoured 
 
106 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 to appeasn her by telling of pardon by 
 the blood of Christ, and assuring her, 
 that if she asked she ".vould obtain for- 
 giveness. Next HiOfijiQg the incident 
 was related to raacirna ; and as the 
 child's distress continued, she spoke to 
 her on the suoject. She confirmed 
 what her brother had stated ; but added, 
 that the pardon was not all that was 
 required. She must ask and receive 
 a new lieart and right spirit, which 
 Christ was as willing to give as the 
 pardon of sin. " But, mamma, I do 
 not know how to pray for it, — will 
 you teach me ?" She fell on her 
 knees, and having gone through her 
 usual prayer, raised her eyes earnestly 
 to her mother, saying, " Tell me now, 
 mamma." This was accoringlv done 
 in a few plain words ; and both during 
 the continuance of this impression, 
 which lasted long, and since, they have 
 
CHAPTER III. 107 
 
 been in constant use. The other chil- 
 dren were solemnly afTected, and none 
 more than dear Alick. Never there- 
 after did he lay his head on his pillow, 
 or arise from sleep, without lisping, 
 " O Lord, create a clean heart, and re- 
 new a right spirit within me ; taire 
 away this hard and stony heart, and 
 give me a heart to love and serve thee, 
 for Christ's sake;" preceded by the 
 simple lines, 
 
 "This night I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take." 
 
 OR, 
 
 "Tlie Lord hath kfpt me throu!,'h the night, 
 And brought me to j,lie morjiin;; light ; 
 O may He keep me all this day, 
 And many me walk in his good way." 
 
 Subsequently to Jessie's death, a very 
 marked change was apparent in his 
 
108 SOKROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 Avhole manner and conduct. He had 
 formerly disliked to be spoken to of 
 death. '• Alick not going to die. Al- 
 ick soon Avell," he used to say, when 
 his liability to death and the necessity 
 of preparation were set before his mind. 
 He now seemed much occupied with 
 the subject, and no such aversion was 
 manifested when it was introduced. 
 Every medical prescription was cheer^ 
 fully submitted to, and the most nause- 
 ous draughts were swallowed without 
 a murmur. Whilst it was gratifying 
 to mark this change in his disposition, 
 we were cheered by the hope, that the 
 final result might yet be favorable. His 
 natural liveliness, which continued, 
 contributed likewise to deceive us ; and 
 although none o-f the alarming symp- 
 toms gave way, we ceased not to ex- 
 pect the natural benefit of the full em- 
 ployments of the suitable means. We 
 
CHAPTER III. 109 
 
 were ready to accept as a token foi 
 good, his willing submission to medi- 
 cal prescriptions, and we looked hope- 
 fully for the blessing which could make 
 them efffctual. 
 
 In the beginning of his illness, the 
 aching of his head, which, however, 
 was but occasional, seemed the chief 
 suffering. " Sore, sore," he would say, 
 laying his little hand on his burning 
 brow. This, by and by, seemed to 
 cease, and then, when asked what 
 pained him, " Oh ! me so tired, papa, 
 so vely tired," was the answer which 
 always rung our hearts; unable as we 
 were to minister any relief, until at 
 length he became unconscious, as we 
 hoped and believed, of all the pain 
 and misery wherewith he was afflicted. 
 
 The coma or stupor, symptomatic of 
 this direful complaint, did not make its 
 decided appearance until the last week 
 
110 SOKROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 of his life ; but for eight days before he 
 expired, he had not above one, or at 
 most two, short intervals of conscious- 
 ness. Previous to these days, he often 
 asked his mother to read "pretty story 
 from the Bible," and would listen with 
 a pleased and happy temper to all that 
 was said to him on spiritual matters. 
 Again and again did he request to hear 
 about the "little boy who had sore 
 bead," as he expressed it, — the Shuna- 
 mite's son, the mercy shown to whom 
 seemed to fill his mind and to delight 
 his heart. He dwelt on the thought 
 that "God had made him well ;" and 
 in his own afflistion, we believe he 
 looked to the same source, — his hope 
 and expectation, — as a child might do. 
 It is difficult to say how small a por- 
 tion of the living seed sown in a child's 
 soul the Eternal Spirit may render ef- 
 fectual, and to what degree. He may 
 
CHAPTER lit. Ill 
 
 sanctify such afflictions as our dear boy 
 experienced. To us it was, indeed, 
 consolatory to see his eye turned to- 
 wards "the light shinirg in a dark 
 place ;" to the Word of God ; to all the 
 truths extracted therefrom, which, in 
 various shapes, he had committed to 
 memory, and to perceive also the peace 
 and patience vouchsafed whilst the 
 heavy hand of approaching dissolu- 
 tion was laid upon him. In the heart 
 of a child so young, there could, in 
 such circumstances, be no guile ; and 
 if sincerity reigned in his feeble ef- 
 forts to embrace the Saviour, — that Sa- 
 viour who rebuked his disciples when 
 they forbade such to be brought to Hira, 
 — may we not believe it was heaven- 
 born and accepted? 
 
 " If babes so many years ago, 
 His tender pity drew, 
 He will not surely let me go 
 Witliout a blessing too." 
 
112 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 The first indication of approaching le- 
 thargy appeared on Tuesday, the first of 
 May ; and although from this day forth 
 it gained upon the gentle sufferer, all 
 communication with his mind did not 
 cease until the beginning of the succeed- 
 ing week. Even then, though it was the 
 last of his short earthly career, once 
 or twice he revived, so as to address 
 us in words of intelligence and comfort. 
 We needed comfort ; for the recollec- 
 tion of our past bereavements began to 
 fade before the anticipation of another 
 clad in terrors which they had not had. 
 It is difficult for those who enjoy the 
 constant and ready benefit of medical 
 aid, to judge of the distraction of mind 
 which the want of this privilege, in 
 such ca^es as ours, produces. Material 
 injury may be the result of acting or of 
 refraining from action, and in either 
 case the reproach of mind thereafter is 
 
CHAPTER HI. 113 
 
 painful beyond description. That in a 
 parish of at least twenty miles square, 
 there should not be even one resident 
 practitioner, may surprise some not ac- 
 quainted with such a state of things ; 
 yet, in the Highlands, it is no uncom- 
 mon occurrence. Daily visits, therefore, 
 are out of the question ; and in a wide 
 country where many calls arise for the 
 services of those useful functionaries, 
 thinly scattered over its surface as they 
 are, days may pass, when they are 
 sent for, ere their presence can be ob- 
 tained. On more than one occasion, 
 during our dear boy's i llness, we were 
 deeply affected by the providential cir- 
 cumstances which placed within our 
 easy reach, in the hour of greatest need, 
 the gentleman who had charge of his 
 case. We were made to feel that 
 " God, who coraforteth those who are 
 cast down," had sent him, if not to cure 
 
114 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 our child, at least to soothe for a time 
 our disturbed spirits. Because we re- 
 cognised in those occurences His doing, 
 they were at once wonderful and pre- 
 cious in our eyes. 
 
 We could enter fully into the "noble- 
 man's" experience, when, with thrill- 
 ing importunity, he said, " Sir, come 
 down ere my child die!" These words 
 became common in our lip?, addressed 
 to the great Physician, who, when they 
 were first spoken, heard and answered. 
 And did He not hear and regard the 
 same appeal now ? Yes. What he 
 said to the " nobleman," he said to us. 
 "Except ye see signs and wonders, ye 
 will not believe." We were made to 
 remember, that " signs and wonders" 
 ought not to be necessary to the exer- 
 cise of faith ; — " Blessed are they who 
 have not seen and yet have believed," 
 — and though our child should be taken 
 
CHAPTER III. 115 
 
 from us, a humble assurance was 
 wrought ia our minds that our prayer 
 was not " put away," and that the pre- 
 sence of the Son of God, " mighty to 
 save." was vouchsafed us in the furnace. 
 
 There are but few additional parti- 
 culars in the story of this dear infant ; 
 for the disease made painful progress, 
 and the prostration of strength was 
 rapid and overwhelming. 
 
 " Where Jessie, mamma, — where 
 Matilda?" he said, on one occasion, 
 soon after the stupor had commenced 
 to exert its influence, as he opened his 
 eyes and looked at us sitting by him. 
 
 ''They are with Christ in heaven," 
 was the answer. 
 
 "Heaven vely pretty place, mam- 
 ma'?" 
 
 " Yes. Would you like, Alick, to be 
 with Jessie and Matilda in that pretty 
 place 1" 
 
116 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 " Ye^, me like vely much ; but," see- 
 ing our tears he added, "me rather stay- 
 here, and me be good boy and always 
 say nne prayers." 
 
 He then asked his mother to read to 
 him, and while she was engaged in 
 this, the sleep from which he had just 
 awakened regained possession of him. 
 
 Once more only did he, after this, so 
 far recover as to converse distinctly 
 with us, and it was but for a little mo- 
 ment. He awoke from the stupor, and 
 looking at us, we were about to give 
 him something, said, with a sweet 
 smile, as if some vision had just been 
 passing before his eyes, 
 
 " Me know place where two pretty 
 lasses, — pretty, pretty place." 
 
 " Christ has taken them there," we 
 said, " and he is coming to take Alick 
 to be with them." 
 
 He looked at us, as if he understood 
 
CHAPTER III. 117 
 
 what we meant; his eyes grew heavy, 
 and in a little he was lost in sleep, 
 which nothing could break. 
 
 Before the lethargy had exerted its 
 full influence over him, and when he 
 had become so feeble that he could no 
 longer place himself upon his knees, 
 evening and morning, he was heard 
 whispering his infant supplications as 
 he lay in helpless exhaustion on his 
 uneasy bed. At last, when his mind 
 became enshrouded in increased dark- 
 ness, he seemed incapable of retaining 
 the ideas, and forgot even the words so 
 often used by him, and in this painful 
 state he would say to us, with a melan- 
 choly tone, "Tell me ine prayers, — 
 not know what say," and would repeat 
 after us as we directed him. 
 
 During the last week, as already 
 stated, he was lost to us. More than 
 once he seemed just about to sink under 
 
118 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 his heavy load of suffering, and we 
 besought the Lord for him, as one at 
 the point of death. The recoveries on 
 tliese occasions appeared very singular. 
 After his features became fixed, and the 
 pulse ceased to be perceptible, except at 
 intervals, when even sinapisms applied 
 to the soles of his feet failed to stimulate 
 the circulation, the indefatigable' exer- 
 tions of hismedicalattendant, in the use 
 of various cordials would be blessed, and 
 the darling patient would levive so as 
 to breathe freely, and appear in a com- 
 posed slumber. Thus the taper of 
 life, ere it went out, threw up its fitful 
 gleams : and thus the Hearer of Prayer 
 animated and encouraged our perse- 
 vering supplications, whilst He gave 
 opportunity to continue in them. How 
 earnestly did we plead that He, with 
 whom nothing is impossible, might 
 prolong his days, and spare, us the pang 
 
CHAPTER III. 119 
 
 of a third separatioa after so short an 
 interval ; but with what equal earnest- 
 ness did we ask that our child might 
 be numbered with the redeemed, — 
 those who are washed in the blood of 
 the Lamb, and in whom his Spirit 
 dwells ! And did we err in believing 
 the secret support vouchsafed in our 
 trying hour to be the earnest of God's 
 accepting our prayers, and of his will- 
 ingness to exceed abundantly all our 
 desires and thoughts ? 
 
 His sufferings towards the close be- 
 came dreadful. On Saturday the 13th, 
 we more than once conceived that he 
 was expiring, and we kneeled by his 
 bed under this impression, — accepting 
 Christ for him, devoting him to the 
 Lord, pleading that, in the furnace 
 into which he was cast, the dross of 
 sin might be purged away, and his re- 
 deemed soul prepared for the heavenly 
 
120 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 inheritance, and humbly imfjloring, loo, 
 that his sufferings might be diminished. 
 In the night he appeared much reliev- 
 ed, and on Sabbath he still survived, 
 though it was evident the hand of 
 death pressed heavily on him. To- 
 wards afternoon, symptoms of convul- 
 sions appeared. They increased. O 
 what a sight is the approach of the 
 '•last enemy," thus exerting his power ! 
 and what consolation to be able to 
 think that our helpless child, lhou5h the 
 victim of that power, was unconscious 
 of it ! The struggle was lonsr, — all 
 that human art and ceaseless attention 
 could do to alleviate the aiony of this 
 dark hour was done. It ceased at last, 
 and a little past midnight our lovely . 
 boy, heaving three deep sighs, yielded 
 up his spirit into the hands of its faith- 
 ful Creator ! 
 
 How dear this child was to us, our 
 
CHAPTER III. 121 
 
 heavenly Father knows, and how deep, 
 therefore, the wound inflicted by his 
 untimely end. Yet we enjoyed a sooth- 
 ing persuasion, that his disembodied 
 soul had joined his beloved sisters, be- 
 fore the throne, where the pang of 
 no separation will ever overtake them. 
 We reflected on his infantile age, — on 
 the humbling and apparently gracious 
 effects, through the power of God, 
 which the affliction he had witnessed 
 produced, — on the evident employment 
 of instruction, imparted in days of 
 h alth, for separating his affections 
 from the world, and raising his thoughts 
 to heaven. Above all, we reflected, 
 with gratitude and humble confidence, 
 on the spirit of supplication which we 
 so remarkably felt poured on ourselves 
 during all the term of his illness, pro- 
 tracted as it was beyond our expecta- 
 tions; and wnich we knew to be pour- 
 
122 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 ed not on us alone, but on others also 
 iu his behalf. As each of our dear 
 children had been called away, wepub- 
 lished the event, saying, " Perhaps 
 some Christian friend may be induced 
 to pray for us." And during the clos- 
 ing scene of Alick's life, when sympa- 
 thy was strongly awakened, our hope 
 in this was strikingly realized. Pious 
 friends, near and at a distance, as sev- 
 eral have since informed me, were 
 moved to pray for us, and especially for 
 our dying boy. We reflecieJ, that if 
 the Lord gave this spirit of supplica- 
 tion at such a time, — if he enabled our- 
 selves to take hold on his strength, and 
 raised up others to plead for us, it was 
 that when thus " inquired of," he might 
 do the thing we asked. For " this is 
 the confidence that we have in him, 
 that, if we ask any thing according to 
 his will, he heareth us : And if we 
 
CHAPTER III. 123 
 
 know that he hear us, whatsoever we 
 ask, we know that we have the pe- 
 titions that we desired of him." 
 
 On the 17th of May, exactly one 
 month from the date of dear Matilda's 
 funeral, the mortal remains of our be- 
 loved Alexander were laid in the grave. 
 lie was placed on her right hand, his 
 coffin touching her's on that side as 
 Jessie's did on the left. 
 
 " The voice said, Cry. And he 
 said, what shall I cry ? All flesh is grass, 
 and all the goodliness thereof is as 
 the flower of the field. The grass 
 withereth, the flower fadeth; because 
 the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: 
 surely the people is grass." 
 
 4 
 
— m 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Those that are broken in their heart, 
 And grieved in their minds, 
 He healeth, and ttieir painful wounds. 
 He tenderly upbinds." 
 
 But the story of our sufferings ends 
 not here ; for our cup of sorrow was 
 not yet full. And when I trace these 
 words and look back, I feel amazed how 
 nature supported the accumulated load 
 of affliction wherewith it pleased God 
 to visit us. Nature, did I say ? Alas ! 
 long ere this it had been overwhelmed, 
 but for that grace which was vouchsaf- 
 ed, and to the power of which v/e were 
 such striking witnesses. " Bless the 
 Lord, O our souls and forget not all 
 his benefits." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 125 
 
 " Trials must and will befall ; 
 But with huuible faitli to see 
 Lovp inscribed upon them all, 
 This is happiness to me." 
 
 Our second daughter, Ann, had just 
 passed her ninth birth-day. She was 
 one of those rare and happy beings 
 who make friends of all who know 
 them. Her natural temper and dispo- 
 sition were particularly amiable ; and, 
 pleased and contented with everything 
 herself, she never harboured a suspi- 
 cion of a contrary feeling in the mind 
 of others. Like her sister, she had 
 been apt to learn ; and, besides hav- 
 ing her mind stored with the truths 
 of Scripture, and many psalms and 
 hymns, she, too, had made considerable 
 progress in secular education. 
 
 She had suffered little from hooping- 
 cough and the subsequent fever, and 
 until near the close of Alick's illness. 
 
126 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 was considered quite recovered. Some 
 days before his death she complained of 
 pain in her side, but a sinapism and 
 some simple medicine removed it, and 
 she was again quite well. The fluctu- 
 ation of feeling, of hope and fear, which 
 agitated us with regard to Alick, was 
 not communicated to the other child- 
 ren ; for it was evident, that they all 
 began to tremble as if they were set 
 apart to death ; and to feel as if one af- 
 ter the other was to be smitten down. 
 We sought to cheer them, and to sup- 
 port their minds, as we best could, by 
 referring to His garce and mercy, in 
 whose hands their life was ; but at 
 length it became impossible for us to 
 conceal our own dejection and uneasi- 
 ness about their dear brother. 
 
 On one of the days towards the end 
 of Alick's last week, Ann came to her 
 mother and said, " How is poor Alick to- 
 
CHAPTER IV. 127 
 
 day ?" She was tenderly attached to him, 
 and from the beginning of his attack, 
 evinced the deepest interest in his fate. 
 Her mother's answer was not encour- 
 aging ; on which she added with an ex- 
 pression of the deepest anxiety, " Sure- 
 ly Alick is not going to die, mamma?" 
 Her mother's look told but too truly her 
 fears ; and though she said much to 
 soothe her under her evident distress, 
 the shock to her feehngs was a severe 
 one. Immediately thereafter, as she 
 told us subsequently, she felt a sudden 
 pain dart through her head, which 
 never forsook her. 
 
 That evening, it was thought ad- 
 visable to apply leeches to her fore- 
 head. Next day, though she got out of 
 bed and manifested her usual cheer- 
 ful equanimity, the leeching was repeat- 
 ed, and other means employed with ap- 
 parently good effect ; but on Sunday it 
 
128 SORROWING, YET REJOICING 
 
 was necessary to confine her to bed, and 
 blistering on tlie back of tlje head was 
 added to the other treatment. Nothing 
 ot'all this would, probably, have been 
 resorted to, but for our past experience, 
 which quickened our apprehensions, 
 and induced our medical friend to anti- 
 cipate danger by decided measures. It 
 is gratifying now to think, that we 
 were thus directed in Providence, and 
 that what man could do was done for 
 our beloved child. 
 
 On Sabbath afternoon, our oldest boy 
 was sent to sit with poor Ann in her 
 room, whilst the family partook of a 
 hasty meal. When dinner was past 
 and all had retired, or returned to their 
 duty by the sick-beds, he came in and 
 sat down by me, with an expressoin of 
 face which told that he had something to 
 communicate. I asked him whether he 
 had had any conversation with his sister 
 
CHAPTER IV. 129 
 
 on sorious matters. He answered that 
 he h.iJ beeij conversing virith her, and 
 that she was under great concern for her 
 soul. She had been desircu? to unbur- 
 den her mind to her mother when read- 
 ing the Scriptures to her in the morn- 
 ing, hut had been prevented from seve- 
 ral causes, and she now feU great anx- 
 iety that we should both come to her 
 a))artment, and give her an opportunity 
 of speaking to us. Alick still surviv- 
 ed, though life was ebbing fast, — he 
 filled our thoughts, and Ann's case had 
 not yet excited any alarm. This mes- 
 sage, however, brought us quickly to 
 her bed-side. 
 
 We besought her to open her mind 
 freely and fully, and encouraged her 
 to speak and conceal nothing. On this 
 she began in a manner, and with an 
 expression the most touching, to confess 
 her exceeding sinfulness. She said 
 
 
130 SORROWING, YET REJOICmG. 
 
 that she had been long thoughtless and 
 fndifferent about her soul, although 
 she had often felt convictions ; and her 
 mind seemed deeply distressed with 
 the recoUectioa, that even on the day 
 of Matilda's funeral, she had been so 
 light-hearted as to be amusing herself 
 with toys. She lamented in strong 
 terms that she had never been doing 
 good in the world, nor glorifying God, 
 — the chief end for which she had been 
 created. Her humiliation \yas very 
 striking; every look and expression 
 showed it, so that after listening long 
 to her declarations of self-abasement, 
 and in various ways searching her 
 views and feelings, I felt within myself 
 a blessed assurance that the law had 
 come home to her soul with divine 
 power. 
 
 During the whole of this day, and 
 for two days previous, she had been, as 
 
CHAPTER IV. 131 
 
 was thought, in a nervous state, ^e 
 appeared unwilling to be left alone, and 
 grasped convulsively the hand of any 
 one whose charge it was to be with her. 
 I was surprisecJ to be informed of this ; 
 for all the children were trained to be 
 alone in the dark, or otherwise, as cir- 
 cumstances required, and they knew 
 no superstitious fears. It was con- 
 science that had awaked, and under 
 saving conviction of sin, she had not 
 yet attained to the liberty and love 
 which deliver from bondage and cast 
 out fear. We were much affected with 
 the tenderness manifested by one little 
 trait. She had, it would appear, a long 
 time before, informed against poor 
 Alick in some slight offence of which 
 he had been guilty. As they were 
 warmly attached, he had felt acutely 
 the accusation coming from her, and 
 had wept bitterly under the trial. The 
 
132 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 ind^dent now recurred to her mind, 
 and, sincerely grieved by tlie recollec- 
 tion, she asked me, wilh tears in her 
 eyes, if I thought Alick remembered it ? 
 He was dying, and her heart was rack- 
 ed with the thought, thai she had ever 
 produced one uneasy feeling in his 
 mind. Both tables of the law were 
 condemning her, — she had transgressed 
 against God, and she had not loved her 
 brother as she should have done. She 
 now ended the disclosure of her experi- 
 ence by saying, with a tune and expres- 
 sion of countenance which melted my 
 heart, " Oh, papa, do you think Christ 
 will save me ?" 
 
 Surely here was an orporlunity, of no 
 ordinary kind, lo proclaim the glad tid- 
 ings of salvation, — and with what feel- 
 ings was it embraced ! The large tears 
 were rolling over her face, and her 
 altitude was that of deep attention. I 
 
 m- 
 
CHAPTER IV. 133 
 
 assured her, on the authority of one 
 commissioned to do so, tiiat the Gospel 
 was for her, and for all like her, con- 
 vinced of sin. Texts with which she 
 was familiar were quoted. The will- 
 ingness of God to receive her into his 
 spiritual family was set before her from 
 them, — the love of Christ for sinners, — 
 his faithfulness — he had never refused, 
 never failed any penitent applicant — his 
 being far more anxious to save her than 
 she wa- to be saved by him — the infinite 
 merit of his great atonement — his all pre- 
 vailing intercession, and the certainty 
 that none who came to him should be lo3t. 
 She seemed, like Lydia, to have her 
 heart opened, and immediately to re- 
 ceive the Gospel with the simplicity and 
 confidence with which a little child, or 
 those made like unto them, only can. 
 The Spirit who had convinced her of sin, 
 appeared to convince her, with equal 
 
134 SORROWING, YET REJOICING 
 
 power, of mercy in Christ ; and from 
 that moment forth she had peace in be- 
 lieving. It was remarkable, that the 
 feeling which had been ascribed to 
 nervousness never more returned, — she 
 was delivered from the deep pit and 
 miry clay, — her mind was thoroughly 
 relieved, — its load was gone, — the dark- 
 ness had passed,— and whilst her con- 
 versation indicated increasing spiritual- 
 ity, there was no recurrence of the 
 bondage of fear. 
 
 No new information was communi- 
 cated to our beloved child in what had 
 been spoken. With the peculiar truths 
 of the Gospel she was previously well 
 acquainted ; for at our Sabbath evening 
 exercises of proving doctrines from 
 Scripture, the "proofs" adduced by 
 Ann were always nearly equal to those 
 of her elder sister and brother. The 
 calm which succeeded her previous 
 
CHAPTER IV. 135 
 
 agitation, arose not, then, from new- 
 knowledge comnaunicated to her mind, 
 but it was grace causing her to receive 
 the glorious truths of "the Word," as 
 addressed to herself; it was faith, 
 wrought by the Spirit in her soul, ap- 
 propriating Christ and his salvation, 
 thereby making her to pass from death 
 to life. How truly, then, does the 
 Lord, in the experience, and out of 
 the mouths of babes and sucklings, 
 perfect praise ! The great exercise, 
 and difficult work of faith, is to see 
 sin and Christ at the same time, — 
 to be penetrated with a lively sense 
 of our demerit, and absolute freedom 
 from condemnation. The more we 
 know of both, the nearer approach we 
 make to heaven ; and here we behold, 
 in a measure, this free gift of God 
 bestowed, in sovereign grace, upon a 
 little child. 
 
136 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 " Papa," she said, after a short in- 
 terval, " I know that I shall never 
 rise from this bed. I have no desire 
 to return to the world, to be exposed to 
 its sins and temptations ; indeed I am 
 not sorry to leave it." 
 
 No one then thought her to be in 
 danger. I replied; accordingly, that I 
 hoped she would soon recover, and be 
 spared long ; adding, that by usefulness 
 in the world, and by advancing the 
 cause of Christ, she might glorify God, 
 and be happy. She assented to this; 
 but said, that now her sorrow to part 
 with us was the only thing which could 
 make her desire to live. 
 
 " What is the world !" she exclaim- 
 ed. '■ See the changes that have taken 
 place among ourselves, — and who 
 would desire to live in it !" 
 
 She then expressed strong desire for 
 holiness, and deliverance from sin ; 
 
CHAPTER IV. 137 
 
 entreated us to be praying for her ; said 
 she knew we had been doing so, and 
 seemed filled with gratitude that she 
 had parents who could minister to her 
 in spiritual things. Great anxiety was 
 manifested by her that the other chil- 
 dren should be concerned for their 
 souls; and she seemed to tremble that 
 any of them should be careless, as she 
 was once. 
 
 It is impossible to describe what we 
 felt ; we wept — but they were tears of 
 joy. I had not been permitted to see 
 Matilda on her death-bed ; but 1 was 
 fully persuaded now of what had been 
 told me — that no relation of particulars 
 could convey a correct impression of 
 the holy influence which pervaded the 
 place where she lay. I experienced it 
 now. I felt that I stood upon holy 
 ground, — where the Lord was doing 
 wonders amongst us ; in wrath remem- 
 
13S SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 bering mercy, and in midst of the tem- 
 pest saying, " Be of good cheer ; it is 
 1, be not afraid." In the next room 
 our sweet boy was passing away. In 
 his case we would have had " signs and 
 wonders," — an infant to speak as one 
 advanced in knowledge, that our long- 
 ing desires for his soul might be sen- 
 sibly satisfied. Though this had been 
 denied, grace was given to believe the 
 goodness of the Lord to him ; but if a 
 shade of darkaess still lingered around 
 his bed, it now was dispelled. Here 
 there was light which extended thither, 
 and was reflected back on our down- 
 cast spirits. We felt that the Lord haa 
 heard our importunate supplication, and 
 that to us, as to the nobleman, in faith- 
 fulness he saiJ, " Go thy way, thy son 
 liveth." A sweet persuasion of his 
 sovereign loving-kindness filled our 
 souls ; and it needed not the request ot 
 
CHAPTER IV. 139 
 
 poor Ann, gently made, to cause us to 
 kneel together before Him, and pour 
 out our hearts in grateful acknowledge- 
 ments and earnest petitions for our 
 dying children. 
 
 The last hymn which Ann had com- 
 mitted to memory, Avas that marked 
 44th in our Church collection of Para- 
 phrases. With the view of calling my 
 attention to its beauties, — for it seemed 
 to have made a deep impression on her 
 own mind, — she began to repeat it : 
 
 " Behold the Savinur on the cross, 
 
 A spectacle of woe ! 
 See from his agonizing wounds 
 
 The blood incessant flow." 
 
 She stopped, and proposed some 
 striking questions, with reference to 
 the rejection of our Lord by the Jews 
 The heinousness of their sins, in being 
 guilty of this, appeared to awe her soul ; 
 and she wept when speaking of his 
 
140 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 sufferings at their hands. But the 
 point on which she principally dwelt, 
 was God's long-suffering towards those 
 who had so greatly provoked him. Of 
 this she had lately been leading, and 
 her soul was now fed by the truth, that 
 he has not cast off Israel. 
 
 "Think, papa, of His infinitemercy," 
 she said, " Avhen, although they have 
 brought such judgments on themselves 
 by their sins. He still preserves them, 
 will yet be their God, and restore them 
 to their own land." 
 
 During all the evening, she poured 
 out the feelings of her heart in a strain 
 of highly spiritual conversation. Like 
 Elihu, she was "full of matter; the 
 Spirit within constrained her, and she 
 spoke that she might be refreshed." 
 She reminded rae of many things I had 
 said in sermons preached long before, 
 which, she stated, had never left her 
 
CHAPTER 17. 141 
 
 mind. She spoke of what had affect- 
 ed her in readiug the Scriptures, and 
 pious books. She dwelt, with great 
 interest and feeling, on the providence 
 which had detained them ail from 
 church for the wiater and spring 
 months; and how much that loss had 
 been made up by her mother's exerci- 
 ses with them, 
 
 " O papa, if you had been with us, 
 and seen how happy we were ; but ali 
 that," she added with a sigh, '" is past 
 now." 
 
 T remarked, that their absence from 
 public ordinances was of God's ap{)oint- 
 ment, not of their own choice, and that 
 I believed he had blessed this dispensa- 
 tion to them, by the effectual teaching 
 of his Spirit; " O yes," she said, "I 
 think so." 
 
 When I listened to the child, whom 
 I had always seen so gay, and appar- 
 
 © 
 
142 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 ently so thoughtless, whose artless, sim 
 plicity I had often fancied incompati- 
 ble with clear understanding, or serious 
 feeling, in religious matters, thus mani- 
 fest a mind well informed, and a heart 
 tenderly aftected, how did God seem 
 to say, " My thoughts are not youi 
 thoughts, neither are my ways your 
 ways:" and what a commentary had 
 we given us on the words of the bless- 
 ed Saviour, " I thank thee, O Father, 
 Lord of heaven and earth, because 
 thou hast hid these things from the 
 wise and prudent, and hast revealed 
 them unto babes." We were also 
 deeply impressed with the small share 
 which human instrumentality has in 
 the great work, and how truly " the ex- 
 cellency of the power is of God." 
 This we perceived, instead of being an 
 inducement to negligence in training 
 our children, is a powerful motive to 
 
CHAPTER IV. 143 
 
 persevere in even the most inefficient 
 means. How far short we came of 
 other parents, of whom we had read, 1 
 often was humbled to think cf ; and 
 now that the blessin? was truly bestow- 
 ed, we felt that to His name alone be- 
 longed the glory. 
 
 Then, let those who tremble under a 
 sense of their shortcomings, and who 
 have no confidence in mstructions com- 
 municated by them, but whose prayers 
 and diligence may, to themselves, even, 
 be an evidence how sincerely they "tra- 
 vaii in birth again, until Christ be form- 
 ed" in their children, be encouraged. 
 Let them hope in God, — they may yet 
 praise him ; and while they do hope, 
 let them not slacken their imperfect 
 services. In the morning sow thy 
 seed, and in the evening withhold not 
 thine hand : for thou knowest not 
 whether shaU prosper either this oi 
 
144 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 that, or whether they both shall be 
 alike good." 
 
 ' If Ihoo wouldst reap in love, 
 First sow in li«ily fear ; 
 So life a winter's innrn may prove 
 To a bright endless year." 
 
 The first week of Ann's illness was 
 one of comparative ease. We encour- 
 aged ourselves tobelieve that the deci- 
 ded mi^asures taken to prevent the pro- 
 gress of any complaint in the head, had 
 been blessed to produce this result ; and 
 as her strength was little affected by pre- 
 vious disease, we hoped, against secret 
 misgivings which began to intrude, that 
 she was not lo be taken frona us. Her 
 own impression was quite the reA'crse. 
 Her natural cheerfulness had returned, 
 indeed, but it was chastened by a full 
 cunsciousncs'j that she lay on her death- 
 bed. It was not the light-heartedness 
 we bad been wout to see, but the com- 
 
CHAVT ilR IV. 145 
 
 posure of one who had been made to 
 feel that she stood upon a Rock which 
 no ware could shake. She was in the 
 region of the shadow of death, but the 
 ra^s of the Sun of Righteousness Avere 
 penetrating the gloom, and opening to 
 her view a happy prospect, far beyond 
 the confines of the valley upon which 
 she had entered. Like Israel of old, 
 she knew that the destroying angel 
 was abroad, hut she rested under the 
 security of the blood which he would 
 regard. Christ, her passover, had been 
 slain ; she was not only sprinkled with 
 his blood, but she partook of his flesh, 
 — he kept her, therefore, in perfect 
 peace, " because she trusted in him." 
 
 The composed view Avhich she took 
 of her approaching dissolution, showed 
 the secret but all-sufficient influence by 
 which she was sustained. It is difficult 
 to say whether she conceived her end 
 10 
 
146 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 to be near, — she might probably think it 
 further off a little than it really was, — 
 but she always seemed hurt when any 
 attempt was made to persuade her that 
 her sickness was not imto death. On 
 one of the days of this week, she com- 
 plained to her mother that a servant 
 who had come into the room to see her, 
 had said that she should soon be well. 
 " It was wroncr, mamma," she remark- 
 ed, " to say such a thing, as none but 
 God can know whether I shall get 
 well." Her mother a>ked if she wish- 
 ed to live ; she hesitated as if unwilling 
 to say any thing that might distress 
 her, and then replied, " It is not my 
 will, mamma, that must be, but God's." 
 The Scriptures were constantly read 
 to her, at her own request ; and we en- 
 gaged regularly in prayer by her bed. 
 She was herself unremittingly engaged 
 in this duty. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 147 
 
 "I hope, my dear Ann, you are ena- 
 bled to Icok to Christ and trust in him ?" 
 her mother said to her on one occasion. 
 
 " O yes, mamma," was the answer ; 
 "and I wish the whole world would 
 come to him." 
 
 On another occasion, when asked if 
 she had been praying, " O yes," she 
 said, " I have been praying for a new 
 heart : I have been asking to be made 
 righteous ; and that all of us should be 
 made righteous ; and that my heart 
 may be raised entirely off this world." 
 
 On a third occasion, when I put the 
 same question to her, the answer was, 
 "I have been praying all day, papa, 
 and have been asking to be made rich 
 in faith. I have prayed that mamma, and 
 you, and all of us, may be made rich in 
 faith. There are many who are rich 
 in money, poor jn faith ; and many 
 who are poor in money, that are rich 
 
148 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 in faith. Oh, if we were rich in faith !" 
 Dear child, He who had taught you to 
 pray was bestowing greater riches than 
 the treasures of Egypt ! 
 
 How beautiful do the fruits of the 
 Spirit appear, in one of so tender an 
 age ! In the course of this week, she 
 was often leeched on the forehead and 
 temples ; she was bled twice at the 
 arm ; the sore produced by the blister 
 on the back of her neck was kept open, 
 and powerful means employed to pro- 
 mote a plenteous discharge therefrom ; 
 tartaric ointment was rubbed behind 
 her ears, to produce irritation there, to 
 direct the humours from the head ; si- 
 napisms were applied to the soles of 
 her feet; the most nauseous medicines 
 were swallowed; — all without the 
 slightest murmur or complaint, nay, 
 with a perpetual smile upon her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 149 
 
 Her resignation was very affecting. 
 " It is not my will, but God's now," 
 was a common expression with her, 
 indicating the principle of spiritual life 
 within, which produced this "beauty 
 of holiness" without. Her trust in the 
 Lord was not less affecting. " Arc you 
 afraid to be bled, Ann ?" her mother 
 asked, on the first occasion oa which 
 this operation was to be performed; 
 for I do not like to see it done, and I 
 would leave the room if you are not 
 alarmed, — you know it is your own 
 papa who is to do it." "Mamma, I 
 am afraid," she said, then added, with 
 an expression that told the whole feel- 
 ing of her soul, " but I know to whom 
 to look." 
 
 To wards the end of the first week, not- 
 withstanding all the precautions which 
 had been employed, the pain in the 
 head was not permanently removed ; 
 
150 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 and, besides the unfavourable symp- 
 tom of its continuance, she began to 
 tell us that she did not see distinctly, 
 that objects appeared double to her ; 
 and complained of a tingling pain in 
 one side of her tongue, extending to 
 the fingers of the hand on the same 
 side. On Sabbath the stupor became 
 so manifest, and her articulation so in- 
 dicative of paralysis, that we could no 
 longer presume to conceal from our- 
 selves the character of the dreadful 
 disease to which she also was about to 
 fall a victim. Indeed, all her symp- 
 toms too truly identified her case with 
 that of her little brother; and we had 
 once more before us the prospect of 
 witnessing the departure of another of 
 our beloved babes, und^^r the most dis- 
 tressing complaint to which children 
 are subject. In a day or two, the deep 
 sleep, which at first appears so like the 
 
CHAPTER IV. 151 
 
 sleep of health, but which soon betrays 
 its own nature, by startings, grindings 
 of the teeth, and pitiable screamings, 
 began to prevail. Every exertion was 
 made, by an increased application of 
 the means already in use, to alleviate 
 or remove the alarming symptoms ; but 
 all that was effected, was an occasional 
 dispersion of the coma, by which gra- 
 cious opportunities were, in mercy, 
 granted us of knowing that in the dark 
 valley she was preserved and guided 
 by the Shepherd of Israel. The cloud 
 in which her mind was enveloped, 
 while the Eternal Spiiit perfected his 
 work in preparing her soul for glory, 
 was occasionally opened, that we might 
 be permitted to know, that God's 
 thoughts towards her were thoughts of 
 peace, not of evil, and that His faith- 
 fulness did not fail. 
 
 It had been an object of much inter- 
 
9~ 
 
 152 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 est with us, in course of the season, to 
 have our dear children removed from 
 home for the benefit of change of air. 
 Our anxiety on this head grew every- 
 day, and with their rapii^ decrease in 
 number, we felt as if this alone could 
 be the means of preserving any of 
 them to us. Unfavourable appearances, 
 we imagined, began to show them- 
 selves in our youngest surviving child ; 
 and. although the weather still contin- 
 ued unusually cold, we resolved, under 
 Providence, with whatever hazard, to 
 adopt the measure referred to. The 
 kindness of a gentleman in a neighbor- 
 ing parish, whose Christian benevo- 
 lence is so well known, and who lives 
 but '• to do good, and to communicate," 
 afforded a facihty of much importance 
 for carrying this into effect. He placed 
 his yacht at our disposal, which, as it 
 was fitted up with every comfort, se- 
 
CHAPTER IV. 153 
 
 cured to our poor invalids all the ad- 
 vantages which could be expected dur- 
 ing a sea-voyage. A clerical friend 
 kindly agreed to accompany tliem, as I 
 could not myself leave our dear Ann, 
 and we only waited a favourable hour 
 for embarking them. This measure 
 had been so long delayed, by so many 
 intervening causes, that we every mo- 
 ment feared something would occur in 
 the state of their health to forbid it al- 
 together. But He to whom belong the 
 issues from death was favourable to 
 us : " He stayeth his rough wind in the 
 day of the east wind." " For," saith 
 He, " I will not contend for ever, neither 
 will I be always wroth ; for the spirit 
 should fail before me, and the souls 
 which I have made." 
 
 On the Tuesday of the second week 
 of Ann's illness, the yacht unfurled her 
 sails in our bay, and we prepared to 
 
154 SOKROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 part — only for a time as we trusted, — 
 with the three who now remained con- 
 valescent, of our once numerous and 
 healthy family. It cannot be wondered 
 at, that on such an occasion we should 
 feel deeply; but the measure so strongly 
 recommended itself to our minds, as 
 holding out the happy prospect of their 
 recovery, that we were encouraged and 
 comforted under the dispensation. God, 
 we believed, would bless it for the re-es- 
 tablishment of the health of thosewhom 
 he had yet spared us ; and even should 
 he see meet to deny this, it was so 
 plainly a duty that we could not hesitate. 
 Our dear Ann, under the excitement 
 of the occasion of their departure, was 
 roused from the lethargy of her com- 
 plaint. Some one had said to her, 
 " Ann, would you not like to be going 
 
 with the rest ?" A visit to had 
 
 always been an object of their happiest 
 
-n 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 155 
 
 anticipations, and not to be the compan- 
 ion of her brother ai d sisters, when 
 about to go there, miglit well be expect- 
 ed to prove a sore disappointment. Ten 
 days before, she was the gayest in 
 the prospect of the journey, and was 
 preparing herself for it ; now she was 
 left behind — to die ! Her answer to the 
 question showed a heart truly crucified 
 to the world, — for what is the world 
 to a child but that from which it 
 promises itself happiness, — and that 
 she no longer looked to any thing in it 
 as her portion. " No," she said, after 
 thinking for a moment, " I do not wish 
 to go. Christ can mi.ke me as happy 
 lying here as they can be there." Her 
 manner fully evinced that this was the 
 conviction of her heart, and that she 
 felt as she spoke. 
 
 When equipped in their travelling 
 dresses, and just before leaving the 
 
156 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 manse, the children came into her room 
 to bid her farewell. The scene which 
 ensued was touching in the extreme. 
 The tie which had so long united them 
 was about to be broken, and they were 
 to see each other no more. Recollec- 
 tions of other days — days never to re- 
 turn, — seemed to rush into their minds ; 
 and, young in years, they sished under 
 the pressure of sorrows which age even 
 has not always known. Ann's heart 
 was tenderly affected. She took them, 
 one after the other, by the hand, hold- 
 ing them firmly in her own. To her 
 brother she said, " Remember ycu are 
 now the oldest, — you are the head of 
 the rest ; O, be diligent in prayer for 
 yourself and them, and be sure the 
 Lord will preserve you !" She then ad- 
 dressed her sister next to herself in age, 
 — " Remember your Bible and Cate- 
 chism," she said ; "and, O, be praying 
 
CHAPTER IV. 157 
 
 for rae !" To her youngest sister she 
 said, — " Remember your prayers, and 
 be obedient to papa and mamma!" 
 She then addressed them all, — " You 
 have been very kind to me — O, fare- 
 well ! The Lord will regard you for it !" 
 
 The friend who was to accompany 
 them in the yacht being present, she 
 said to him, — '• It is so kind of you, Mr. 
 
 , to go with them lo . I thank 
 
 you for it, and for a 1 the kindness you 
 ever showed us. Kver since you knew 
 us, you were kind to us, — ihe Lord will 
 regard you for it ; for to all who are mer- 
 ciful and kind. He is merciful. All his 
 own people are so, a d none but they are 
 tiu y so." " Farewell !" she said again, 
 with a deep sigh, and kissed llie children. 
 
 Our h'^arts bled ; no one present could 
 refrain from tears. But with the dear 
 suflerer the lucid interval had paU ; the 
 insidious disease with which she was 
 
 ^- 
 
158 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 Struggling agaia enshrouded her intel- 
 lect — she relapsed into unconscious- 
 ness ; and when, in the evening, she 
 revived a little, and I attempted to re- 
 call the scene, no tiace of it had been 
 left on her mind. 
 
 The lethargy was evidently on the 
 increase ; and all we could now do was 
 to watch her, persevering in the use of 
 the various prescriptions, with the pros- 
 pect, if not of cure, yet of the allevia- 
 tion of the more distressing symptoms. 
 How deeply afflicting, how exhausting 
 to nature those unavailing efforts, they 
 only know who have been circumstan- 
 ced as we were, — disease in so many 
 instances, holding its onward course, 
 and baffling every human effort to stay 
 its progress, — hope deferred day by day, 
 and expiring at last, as each object of 
 our tender solicitude was taken away ! 
 Had the Word of God been unknown 
 
CHAPTER IV.» 159 
 
 to US at such a time, or had unbelief 
 been permitted to forbid our resting on 
 its truths as the very revelation of Him 
 who gave being to us and our children, 
 what had become of us ! But, indeed, 
 " as silver tried in a furnace of earth, 
 purified seven times," that Word in 
 our day of darkness, was to us,— spark- 
 ling with light and perfection, like 
 the high priest's breastplate, — " rejoic- 
 ing the heart, — enlightening the eyes," 
 —appearing " more to be desired than 
 gold, yea much fine gold ; sweeter also 
 than honey and the honey-comb." The 
 way to the throne of grace was open 
 too ; and though " our flesh and heart 
 did fail, God was the strength of our 
 heart and our portion." 
 
 Now, as during the illness of poor 
 Alick, some token for good was shown 
 us each successive day. and the Lord 
 was proving himself a very present 
 
160 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 help in time of trouble. Even amidst 
 the agitating circumstances of our trial, 
 we were often affected to tears by the 
 perception of this ; but when the storm 
 had passed, and leisure was granted to 
 look back upon all the way by which 
 the Lord had led us, our hearts were 
 penetrated with the liveliest sense of 
 his enduring faithfulness and tender 
 mercy. 
 
 " Judge not tlie Lord by feeble sense, 
 
 But trust him for his grace ; 
 Behind a frowning providence 
 
 He liides a smiling face. 
 His purposes will ripen fast, 
 
 Unfolding every hour ; 
 The bud may have a bitter taste, 
 
 But sweet will be the flower." 
 
 On the morning after the yacht sail' 
 ed, the nurse, who had been the faith- 
 ful attendant of all the children from 
 their birth, was sitting in the room 
 alone with Ann. Dimly perceiving the 
 
CHAPTER IV. 161 
 
 girl, she called her lo approach. 
 "Come near me, Nanny," she said, 
 and when she did so, she moved her 
 hand over her face, to assure herself of 
 her presence. The more easily to grat- 
 ify her in this, the nurse liad knelt by 
 the side of the bed, "Nanny," she 
 said again, rather hurriedly, " you are 
 kneeling ; don't kneel to me." — " To 
 whom should I kneel ?" " Kneel to 
 God only !" she answered in a very so- 
 lemn tone, and then requested her to 
 read to her. While she did so, and 
 very soon after she had begun, the 
 sleep returned, and notwithstanding 
 every effort to resist it, resumed its pow- 
 er, and she was again lost to conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 During the night, intervals of this . 
 
 kind occasionally occurred, when, even 
 
 amidst the heart-rending and helpless 
 
 screamings . so symptomatic of water 
 
 11 
 
162 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 in the head, her earnest prayers ad- 
 dressed to the Saviour for patience, — 
 for all spiritual and eternal blessings, — 
 could be heard. 
 
 We had made it a rule, when at any 
 time she showed symptoms of return- 
 ing consciousness, to repeat some text 
 of Scripture close to her ear. In this 
 way her mind was assisted in its feeble 
 exertions, and her soul, we hoped, 
 might be fed with the bread of life. 
 Two days before her death, on an oc- 
 casion of this kind, her mother, suppos- 
 ing that she perceived some faint traces 
 of consciousness, approached, and re- 
 peated these words : 
 
 "Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, 
 Yet will I fear none ill ;'" — 
 
 No sooner were they uttered, than 
 they seemed, with talismanic power, to 
 dissolve her slumber. She immediate- 
 
CHAPTER IV. 163 
 
 ly opened her eyes, and, with great 
 feeling, added : 
 
 " For thou art vvitli mo, and Thy rod 
 And stair nie comfort still." 
 
 She then continued, — "O, mamma, 
 what would I do without Christ now ! 
 what a poor miserable creature should 
 I be without him !" 
 
 " Do you feel Him strengthening and 
 supporting you, Ann?" her mother ask- 
 ed. 
 
 " O yes, I feel," she said, hesitating, 
 as if she could not select a suitable 
 word to express her experience ; " I 
 feel as if He were pressing me," using 
 her hands so as to describe support or 
 upholding. 
 
 I then reminded her that Christ could 
 have a fellow-feeling for her ia her, 
 sore affliction ; for he had been a little 
 child of her own age, and had gone 
 through all the agonies preceding a 
 
164 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 painful death. I reminded her also of 
 his compassion as a merciful and faith- 
 ful High Priest, so that in all the afflic- 
 tions of his own children he is afflict- 
 ed, suffering nothing to come on them 
 but what is necessary, and what he 
 will give them strength to bear. Her 
 soul seemed nourished and comforted. 
 " O yes !" she said, with great empha- 
 sis; " that is very true !" 1 then asked, 
 if I should at that time pray wiih her? 
 " O yes ; I'll be very, very glad ; and, 
 dear papa, be always praying /or me." 
 We then kneeled around her bed, and 
 poured out earnest prayers on her be- 
 half. She remained conscious, and 
 closely attentive for a little ; but the 
 cloud returned, and, long before our 
 short exercise had concluded, the deep 
 sleep out of which she had awaked, re- 
 asserted its irresistible influence over 
 her exhausted frame. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 165 
 
 In this state she remained for nearly 
 four and twenty hours, excepting tliat 
 often, especially during the night, she 
 uttered the most plaintive cries, and 
 seemed in great bodily pain. We at- 
 tempted to comfort ourselves, power- 
 less as we were to relieve her, by think- 
 ing that the suffering was all ours who 
 witnessed her condition, and that she 
 herself was not sensible of the affliction 
 under which she groaned. We had 
 now given up every hope that she 
 should again so far recover as to be 
 able to speak to us ; and our prayer to 
 the God of all grace on her behalf was, 
 that he would speedily perfect His 
 work in her soul, and receive it, thus 
 purified in his furnace, to his own im- 
 mediate presence, where there " shall 
 be no more death, neither sorrow, nor 
 crying, neither shall there be anymore 
 pain : for the former things are passed 
 
166 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 away." He, however, had yet mercy 
 ill store for our wounded spirits, and 
 was pleased to permit us to hold com- 
 munion with our beloved child once 
 more, ere she winged her way to the 
 mansions of eternal rest. 
 
 Late in the evening of the day before 
 she died, as her mother and the faithful 
 governess, who had been with the 
 children ever since they entered school, 
 were keeping watch by her, she groan- 
 ed heavily once or twice, and appeared 
 sensible of pain or some uneasiness. 
 Her mother accordingly requested 
 Miss C to offer some drink and to speak 
 to her. During all the time from the 
 previous evening, she had made no 
 reply to any question. To their great 
 joy, when novvasked if she would have 
 a drink, she answered, " Yes." When 
 she had swallowed a little, on being 
 asked again if it was good, — "Yes, 
 
CHAPTER IV 167 
 
 very good," she said ; " wnat is it 
 made of?" Her mother saw that a 
 new opportunity had been granted of 
 addressing her mind, and began to re- 
 peat, " Suffer little children tocomeun- 
 to me," — the dear child at once took up 
 the words ; " and forbid them not," she 
 continued, "for of such is the kingdom 
 of God." Three times she repeated 
 the passage, and seemed afraid she 
 should be prevented or interrupted in 
 doing so. 
 
 I was sent for, being in an adjoining 
 room. She had requested her mother 
 to come near her, for her sight was 
 evidently almost or entirely gone ; and 
 she had thrown her arm around her 
 neck, clinging fondly to her, as she 
 continued to repeat the words. On 
 hearing my voice, she unloosed her 
 arm, and stretched out both to me. 
 She took hold of me, and seemed to 
 
168 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 delight in bein^ conscious thai she held 
 me, and that I was with her. 
 
 "You know, my dear Ann," I said, 
 "who spoke those sweet words you 
 have repeated, and how faithful they 
 must be ?" " Yes, I know, papa," she 
 said ; " and what would I be if Christ 
 were not with me ! I would he in hell. 
 O what would I be if Christ were not 
 with me !" Then, after a little pau^e, 
 atlemptiniT to raise her sightless eyes, 
 she added, '' Darling Matilda, you are 
 in heaven, and I shall soon be there loo !'' 
 
 These were the last intelligent words 
 we heard from her. Fearing the rapid 
 return of stupor, we kneeled down that 
 she might once more unite with us, on 
 earth, in the Avor-hip of our God and 
 Saviour. For a litiie moment she was 
 permitted to do this ; but iheclood came 
 again, and never till the end did she 
 emerge from it. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 169 
 
 As her bodily strength was, compar- 
 atively, little wasted, and as, from the 
 shortness of her illness, she was but 
 slightly reduced, we dreaded that, in the 
 closing scene, she would suffer greatly 
 from convulsions. We had the case of 
 her dear brother before our eyes, and 
 torn as our hearts were under the recol- 
 lection of what we had witnessed in 
 him, we trembled that now our trial 
 should be greallv aggravated. In this 
 agonising anticipation, we besought the 
 Lord, if it might be, to be spared the 
 affliction, and he heard us. 
 
 Her complaint made most rapid pro- 
 gress. The plaintive moans and scream- 
 ings resounded throughout the house 
 during the ni^ht. By the morning they 
 had subsided. During the forenoon she 
 lay breathing freely, her features light- 
 ed up, and their expression composed 
 and perfectly peaceful. The rapid cir- 
 
170 SORROUING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 culalion in the large veins of the neck 
 and throat, seen distinctly as her head 
 lay stretched back upon the pillow, told 
 how quickly life was ebbing away. 
 Soon after raid day occasional twitches 
 of the face and contraction of the fin- 
 ger?, indicated that convulsions had 
 commenced. We sought to be prepared 
 for the Lord's will ; and good is his 
 will. They went no farther, and in an 
 hour they ceased altogether. A short 
 interval succeeded, in which no symp- 
 tom of convulsion or distress of any 
 kind appeared ; and, at three o'clock 
 exactly, without a sigh or struggle, she 
 ceased to breathe. Time to her was 
 at an end ; her sanctified spirit had 
 fled its frail tabernacle— a body of sin 
 and death, to enter on the inheritance 
 which Christ, whose presence she so 
 sensibly felt in the dark valley, has pur- 
 chased, and which, in sovereign grace 
 
CHAPTER IV. 171 
 
 be bestows on them to whom it is giv- 
 en to believe iu his name ! 
 
 Our beloved Ann died on Saturday 
 the 26th May. On Wednesday the 
 30th, her mortal remains were laid in 
 the silent grave. She was placed on 
 Jessie's left hand, the coffins touching 
 each other. And thus, in the space of 
 six short weeks, with no previous anti- 
 cipation of such a trial, were we called 
 upon to part with/ozjr of our seven dar- 
 lings, the delight of our eyes and of our 
 heart, and to see them laid side by side 
 in the same grave. There they rest — 
 how precious to us the spot ! — await- 
 ing a glorious resurrection ; placed as, 
 very probably, they would have arrang- 
 ed themselves if going out to walk — Al- 
 exander at Matilda's right hand, and 
 little Jessie between her two elder sis- 
 ters. Thev are not, for God has taken 
 them. 
 
172 SORROWING. YET REJOICING. 
 
 " Whate'er we fondly call our own 
 
 Belongs to heaven's gnat Lord ; 
 The blessings lent us for a day 
 
 Are soon to be restored. 
 'TIs God that lifts our comforts hijh 
 
 Or sinks them them in the grave : 
 He gives ; and when he takes away 
 
 He takes but what he gave.' 
 
 ' Perhaps we loved them too well — 
 perhaps valued them too little; in the 
 meantime, one thin^ we know — it is 
 well, for God did it." 
 
 His purposes in such dispensations 
 as that by which we have been bereav- 
 ed are mysterious to us ; in them we 
 are made to "drink of the wine of as- 
 tonishment." But if He makes them 
 occasions for the display of the power 
 and riches of His grace, ought we not 
 to be contented 1 If He causes us to 
 rejoice over brands "plucked out of the 
 burning;" over "babes and sucklings," 
 out of whose mouths He perfects 
 
CHAPTER IV. 173 
 
 praise; and if amidst the sufferings of 
 our offspring, sustaining grace adequate 
 to the affliction be vouchsafed, ought 
 not our mourning to be turned into joy ? 
 But for the cloud the rainbow could 
 not appear, and according to its dark- 
 ness is the brightness of the token of 
 God's immutable covenant. Abraham, 
 no doubt, received Isaac with great joy, 
 and circumcised him according to the 
 commandment. But God re-demand- 
 ed Isaac ; yet mark the end of the Lord ! 
 It was not to grieve and bereave the pa- 
 rent, but to try, and purify and increase 
 his faith ; to give him back Isaac, and 
 load him with farther blessings. 
 Christian parents must be the children 
 of Abraham — they must follow his faith 
 — submit to its trials — and, at last, " in 
 the mount of the Lord it shall be seen," — 
 in the great day, they shall receive bank 
 their Isaacs, and many blessings besides. 
 
174 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 Christ has promised, " I will not 
 leave you comfortless ; in the world ye 
 shall have tribulation ; but be of good 
 cheer." Seasons of great trial are 
 those in which He especially proves to 
 his children his faithfulness, according 
 to his word. The people of the world 
 may then refuse to be comforted ; they 
 may fail to comprehend, nay, they may 
 misunderstand the source of consola- 
 tion from which the believer is sup- 
 plied, when every stream of human 
 consolation is dried up ; but to him, 
 God indeed "turns his countenance," 
 — " makes darkness light before him, 
 and crooked things straight. These 
 things He does, and He will not for- 
 sake him." 
 
 By the foregoing Narrative, we de- 
 sire to set our seal that God is true, 
 and to encourage his Israel to hope in 
 him ; for with him is mercy and plen- 
 
1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 175 
 
 teous redemption. To obtrude our sor- 
 rows on olhers, merely to relieve our owa 
 hearts, were neither justifiable in it- 
 self, nor likely to attaia the jjurposed 
 end ; but to declare to them that fear 
 God what he hath done for us, either 
 in our own persons, or those of our be- 
 loved offspring; to add our testimony 
 to the eviden e of iiis grace already re- 
 corded, or, from day to day being given, 
 may minister encouragement to some 
 of the '' little flock," whose case of af- 
 fliction, when their hour of darkness 
 arrives, ours may approximate ; and it 
 ffives glory to Him to whom alone all 
 honour and praise are due. 
 
 In the greatest depths, amidst the 
 most trying agitations of sorrow, he 
 who lives by faith, and who has aban- 
 doned every legal hope, may be made 
 to adopt the language of the Psalmist, 
 and say, — " la the multitude of my 
 
176 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 thoughts within me, thy comforts de- 
 light my soul." There is such an ex- 
 perience, — not a vain imagination, nor 
 the ofls|)ring ot a delusive enthusiasm. 
 This consolation is the work of God, 
 and its elements are rich and abundant. 
 It is mjoyed when the believer is ena- 
 bled, through grace, to justify Him in 
 his severest dealings ; sincerely to ac- 
 knowledge, because he truly feels, that 
 he receives less than his sins deserve, 
 and not one stripe more than the safely 
 of his soul requires j when, in the chas- 
 tisements inflicted, be is made to dis- 
 cern mercy, inasmuch as others, far 
 more trying, might have been substitu- 
 ted in their room ; when a blessed as- 
 surance is borne in upon his mind, that 
 not the sword of justice inflicts the 
 wounds for which he mourns, but the 
 rod of parental discipline j when he 
 perceives, in his corrections, the token 
 
CHAPTER IV. 177 
 
 ofsonship, and his spirit revives under 
 the conviction that, all beinj; partakers 
 of them, where he exempted h^ should 
 be a bastard and not a son ; when a 
 holy assurance is wrought in him, that 
 when judged he is chastened of the 
 Lord, that he should not be condemned 
 with the world ; when, under the vig- 
 orous actings of faith, every jot and tit- 
 tle of the Scriptures is to his eye stamp- 
 ed with the living certainty of truth, as 
 if written with light, as " spirit and 
 life ;" threatenings vivid as the hand- 
 writing on the wall ; promises shining 
 with as steady and enduring a flame as 
 tlie lamp which never went out on 
 the altar of the Lord ; and precepts 
 become sweet, and to be desired, as 
 the droppings of the honey-comb ; 
 when the world and all that it con- 
 tains, weighed in the balance of the 
 sanctuary, or tried by the high stand- 
 12 
 
178 SOKROWINGj YET REJOICING. 
 
 ard which measures the things of 
 eternity, is felt to be a " lying vanity ;" 
 when the nearness of Christ to the 
 soul, in all the ordinances by which 
 we may approach him, and in which 
 he visits us, is sensibly perceived, and 
 though the veil which "this mortal" 
 interposes, is not, as in Stephen's case, 
 removed to reveal him to sense, standing 
 at God's right hand, yet faith experi- 
 ences his presence and compassion ; — 
 then the " peace which passeth all 
 understanding," and which, over and 
 far beyond every wave of trouble, points 
 to the happy land of promise, " keeps 
 the heart and mind through Christ Jesus 
 the Lord." " Who is among you that 
 feareth the Lord, thatobeyeth the voice 
 of his servant, that walketh in darkness 
 and hath no light ? let him trust in the 
 name of the Lord, and stay upon his 
 God." " Truly God is good to Israel" 
 
# 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 179 
 
 The world is prone to judge by 
 sense of tl-.e condition of the people of 
 God under his dealings with them, in 
 which case there is no wonder that they 
 esteem them of all men the most misera- 
 ble. These will not drink of the foun- 
 tains from which a polluted and destruc- 
 tive relief is drawn by sinners who have 
 never known any other, and who have 
 heard in vain of the '• river which makes 
 glad the city of God." " The troubles 
 which afflict the just," moreover, are 
 many, while they who fear not God 
 often, for a time, "have no changes." 
 Yet it is infinitely better, even with 
 reference to the world that now is, to 
 suffer affliction with the one, than to 
 enjoy the pleasure of sin with the other. 
 The secret of the Lord is with them 
 that fear him, and a stranger doth not 
 intermeddle with their joy. Is not the 
 case of David, in all his afflictions, with 
 
ISO SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 that of Daniel and his companions, 
 recorded ; and has not the experience 
 of holv niarlyrs, in every age. corres- 
 ponded wiih, and confirmed the truth 
 attested hy those, that God keeps his 
 ])Coph^ as the apple of his eye, and hide# 
 thom under the shadow of his wings? 
 True, He himself is their Saviuur, and 
 worldlv comforts are not the portion 
 ■\vilh which He feeds them ; but is that 
 jiortion tlie less real that it is spiritual? 
 li;iy, IS it not this which renders it suit- 
 able, substantial, and enduring? "'The 
 thing? wliicb are seen are temporal, 
 those which are unseen eternal." Id 
 tlie dayul'ijreat trouble, when ihv I.,ord 
 smiles there is a largeness of confession, 
 a vigour of faiih, a closeness of com- 
 mune, n, a liberty of inieicour^e, an 
 earnesiness of interct ssijii, a lervturol 
 devotion, a sense of farour,and a dead- 
 n ~ss to ilie world, at other times either 
 
 &- 
 
CHAPTER rV. 181 
 
 not granted, or but languidly enjoyed ; 
 and the body, ever affected by the 
 state of the spirit, is often, in such 
 circumstances, so strengthened and 
 upheld, that " songs of deliverance " 
 encompass the afflicted, even amidst 
 the " sorrows of death." 
 
 None are entitled to wish for trials ; 
 in themselves they are not pleasant 
 but grievous ; yet they who live by 
 faith, whilst they anticipate days of 
 darkness, ought not to be dismayed. 
 They must pass through the cloud, but 
 Christ will be there. Of the cup which 
 He drank they must partake, though 
 not as He did, and with his baptism be 
 baptized, but his strength will uphold 
 and his grace preserve them. His faith- 
 fulness is their buckler, and no emer- 
 gency can arise for which full provision 
 has not been made in that covenant, 
 of which He is head and surety. The 
 
®- 
 
 182 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 last enemy is as feeble before him, whe- 
 ther encountered by an infant or a patri- 
 arch, as all the rest with whom through 
 life his people are called to contend. Has 
 sin ceased to reign in your mortal body 
 — has the devil been successfully resis. 
 ted — has the world, in any measure, 
 been overcome ? Then death, too, will 
 be destroyed through him who " deliv- 
 ered you out of the paw of the lion and 
 the bear j" and the song of triumph 
 will be sung, " O death, where is thy 
 sting ? O grave where is thy victory ?" 
 But let none think that there is no 
 suflfering in the Christian's afflictions. 
 If this were so, why should they be 
 sent ? Their lamentation and tears in 
 the sight of God tell truly how painful 
 they feel them to be. Their language 
 often is, " Behold, and see if there be 
 any sorrow like unto my sorrow !" How 
 often was this our complaint under the 
 
CHAPTER IV. 183 
 
 pressure of the accumulated affliction 
 laid upon us ! Never till then did we 
 comprehend that extremity of grief 
 which affects the bodily powers, so as 
 to induce a torpidity of action, which 
 finds its relief in sleep. The disciples 
 endured it ; for it is recorded that they 
 " slept for sorrow," in the dark hour of 
 their Master's agouy. Again and again 
 did He come to them, after He had 
 charged them to watch, — as if He could 
 have enjoyed some secret comfort, from 
 a knowledge that they did so, — and 
 found them thus overwhelmed. There 
 is such an extremity, the exclusive 
 product of genuine sorrow. It may 
 come upon those who are dear to 
 Christ ; they may be exposed to it, but 
 they will be preserved in it. Though 
 they sink He neither slumbers nor 
 sleeps. The iron may enter their soul, 
 but its wound is not deadly. Here is 
 
m- 
 
 184 SORROWING, YET REJOICING. 
 
 their privilege — though " chastened 
 sore, they are not given over to death," 
 — " the blessings of goodness prevent 
 them." 
 
 Yet even in its worst character, 
 theirs is not the " sorrow of the world j' 
 not that of those who " cry not unto 
 him with their heart, though they howl 
 upon their beds." The seventy of the 
 stripes with which they are scourged 
 is not so much that which wounds their 
 spirit and weighs them down, as the 
 conviction that their sins have rendered 
 such discipline necessary. O ! the an- 
 guish with v/hich they are penetrated 
 from this cause ; and O ! the precious- 
 ness of that blood, by which they are 
 washed from their sins and re-establish- 
 ed in a sense of the favour and friend- 
 ship of God ! How sweet too, thereafter, 
 a closer and more faithful walk wiih 
 Christ ; a greater deadness to the world 
 
 -^ 
 
CHAPTER 17. 185 
 
 and sin ; a deeper and more genuine 
 humility ; single hearted devotedness to 
 God and his cause, in simple and exclu- 
 sive dependence upon that grace which 
 IS sufficient, and by which we can do 
 and endure all things ! 
 
 It may be gratifying to some to know 
 that the three children who for a time 
 were separated from their home, have, in 
 the mercy of God. been restored to their 
 usual health. " Behold we count them 
 happy that endure. Ye have heard of 
 the patience of Job, and have seen the 
 end of the Lord ; that the Lord is very 
 pitiful and of tender mercy." 
 
 THE END. 
 
DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 HIGHSMITH #45115 
 
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