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FRIENDLY VISITOR.
FRIENDLY

No. CLII.]

MAY, 1831.

[VOL. XIII.

MEMOIR OF A CLERGYMAN'S WIFE.

DEAR SIR, My gracious Master has been pleased to take to himself my beloved wife, and to leave me alone in the world-yet not without hope and abounding consolation. She greatly admired your interesting little work; and gladly encouraged the circulation of it in this parish. If you would be kind enough to receive a small tribute of affection into one of the numbers of the Friendly. Visitor, it would be a valuable memorial to those who knew her, and not perhaps uninteresting to the rest of your readers.

I shall detail but few particulars of the history of her life. We were married July 16th, 1829. We had a circle of affectionate friends, a comfortable home; in a word, "all-sufficiency in all things:" so that, with mutual affection, we had a fair prospect of an unusual share of worldly happiness. But ah! "how vain are all things here below!" Even then she was suffering from the fatigue of a long confinement in a chamber of sickness. Her skill as a nurse was uncommon, and therefore in frequent demand. Her mother's last illness, eight years ago, was of eighteen months' continuance; and made such inroads upon her constitution, as she never after entirely recovered. Frequent demands of the same kind in a large family circle only tended to increase the mischief--the deadly nature of which, however, still lurked unobserved by others, and unnoticed by herself. She therefore neglected her own health, and only sought the benefit of others. Her manners and information attracted the esteem of the rich; her kindness the affection of the poor. the Sunday School she was laborious and valuable. No voice was so effectual as her's to command attentive silence; no one's appearance so certain to still at once any momentary confusion. To the families around her, she exemplified a striking proverb of Solomon's (xxi. 26.) "the righteous giveth and spareth not." She not only gave,

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but she was a cheerful and a bountiful giver; she spared not. Only a short time before her illness I had purchased Mr. Bridges' valuable work on "the Christian ministry," and had read to her that chapter in it on the minister's wife.' She was so much impressed with it, that the very week before she was confined to the house by her last illness, she had called at one house for the purpose of making arrangements to establish the cottage readings which Bridges recommends.

Never however in any character was boasting more excluded.' To notice only her own views of her liberality to the poor, Mrs. F. would frequently say, that there was no more merit in her doing so, than in another person enjoying whatever pleasure was suited to their taste: she had been brought up to habits of kindness-they were naturally a gratification to her, and she dared not say. they were the result of divine grace. There was however some degree of reserve in talking to the generality of her friends on the great matters of religion; and she could not be said to enjoy that assurance of her personal interest in Christ which some believers experience. Whether there was any assignable cause for this, I will not determine; but I am persuaded that great tenderness of conscience, in a great measure at least, gave rise to it. She often expressed a fear lest her conversion should be but half work,' and was tremblingly afraid of saying more than she felt. Now though I could have no doubt of her ultimate safety, yet I felt extremely anxious that the Redeemer's finished work should appear to be savingly applied to her soul with the demonstration of the Spirit and with power: and that as she was sinking in bodily decay, she might enjoy clear apprehensions, and furnish distinct testimony of her having been "apprehended of Christ Jesus." And God was graciously pleased to hear our united prayers in this behalf. She was taken seriously ill last March; and during the long period of her "pining sickness" there was a manifestly growing resignation to the divine will, and a growing conformity to the divine image: still not that "overcoming faith" which rises superior to every doubt. The bent and tendency of her

mind were, however, more and more heavenward. She longed for higher attainmets. She asked; and, asking, she received. This was a very remarkable stage in her experience; and it is this point in the work of grace upon her soul, which gives its chief character and interest to this little memoir. On the Sunday, generally the only day in the week on which I left her for above an hour together, when I was obliged to be from home most of the day, my place was often kindly supplied either by her brother or his wife. When the former was with her on the last Sunday but one of her life, they had (as they were latterly often used to have) a good deal of religious conversation. On my return home in the evening I observed her countenance evidently marked some strong impression on her mind. She said at once; "what do you think my brother has been saying to me? I was expressing my fears to him, and he asked me, would you be willing to have health, prosperity, and all the enjoyments of the world restored to you, and give up your God? What a test this is! what a solemn, searching question!" The impression was painfully strong. She seemed as if she had become just newly alive to all the momentous results which the enquiry involved. All that eternity presents either exquisite in enjoyment, or tremendous in suffering, then appeared to her to be suspended on the right answer: and it produced an agonizing conflict within her. The whole evening she could think of nothing else but that solemn question.' For two or three days she continued in the deepest seriousness of thought, though the vehemence of her agony gradually subsided. All her expressions during that period shewed the most profound self-abasement, the greatest tenderness of conscience, and the most earnest longing for the manifestation to her soul of the Redeemer's love. She frequently exclaimed, O for a glance from the Saviour! O for one of the Saviour's smiles! I feel as if I must rush to Jesus.' And surely never can I forget the slow tone of deep solemnity with which she uttered these words; 'O! Lord,-have mercy upon me, I humbly beseech thee.'

He who prompted the prayer, was not long before he

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graciously answered it. And from the following Thursday, during the whole of the short remnant of her life, she enjoyed the calm tranquillity of a simple trust in the faithfulness of Jesus. Her short but decisive testimony on that day-"I have peace"-was the more emphatic from her lips, because of the prevailing fear, which I have mentioned above, of saying more than she felt. Indeed she seems from that time to have realized all that Jesus Christ promises of endearing communion with his people. It seemed as if he had done as he says in those Scriptures; we will come to him and make our abode with him." 66 "I will come to him and sup with him, and he with me." In every circumstance there was now a sweet cheerful reference to him, "whom having not seen she loved." One evening, for instance, when some oysters were brought her for supper, feeling a painful want of appetite, she said, how shall I get these down? but what cid they bring my Saviour? vinegar and gall.' The recollection seemed to revive her, and she took her meal with pleasure. On going to bed (for she got up till within three days of her death) she remarked, 'O what comforts I have; while my Saviour had not where to lay his dear head. A member of her family about to write a letter asked, have you any message to send to?' 'Yes,' she replied, give my love to her, and tell her that I have found Jesus the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely.' Her progress in grace appeared in very simple yet striking manifestations. On my leaving her for public duty on the Sunday morning, she would say, 'God go with you;' but lately, with the warmth of childlike affection, my God go with you.' Her desire to depart increased as her departure itself hastened on : and the confidence of her hope, and the fulness of her joy became stronger and stronger as her bodily frame grew weaker and weaker. Oh!" she once said, when very faint, to be with the Lord-and for ever." 6 My sufferings have not been trifling: am I wrong,' she asked, 'in wishing to be released? I am afraid lest I should be wishing merely to escape the sufferings which my Saviour has appointed for me." I answered, surely not, my love: we

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cannot naturally choose to suffer-even our Lord's human nature shrunk from it, as appears from his remarkable prayer. 'Well,' she calmly replied, but I don't want this cup to pass from me, I want to go to Jesus.' On the morning previous to her death, she said, it is sweet to go,' casting a most expressive look at me, which conveyed an evident reference to a beloved sister of mine* who died triumphantly; and with great joy at the contemplation which she so expressed: and her emphasis clearly implied that now she felt the delightful truth of the assertion. A few hours before her death she said; Oh! I am very uneasy.' I enquired, but you still find Jesus near? to which she significantly answered, 'he is drawing near.' For some time her disease pressed heavily upon her. 'If this be death,' she said, 'O it is dreadful. Pray for me,'-and looking around the bed, are you all praying for me? all of you? I am suffering much pain; but though he slay me, yet will I trust him.' Afterwards in greater tranquillity, by a short sentence at a time, she uttered such expressions as these; 'O death, come, come, come-why tarry the wheels of his chariot? Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly-come take thy willing captive home.' After a short interval she said again; I have nothing upon my mind, I have done with all in the world, I bid you all good bye, now you might give me a little laudanum to still my pain :' and she now seemed so nearly exhausted that I did not expect to hear her voice any more. One whom she greatly esteemed, but whom she had not seen for some days, came into the room to see her for the last time. The sight of this person roused for a moment her attention: she opened her eyes, and turning her head towards her, said; "O that's

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-,' (and with a look of delightful affection and joy added,) it is a sweet prospect-I am going to Jesus.' This was about twenty minutes before her end: she closed her eyes, and so gently breathed out her soul, that though my head was almost close to her's, and my finger on her

*See Note at the end of this article.

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